No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Nun’s Priest’s Tale Page 3

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Original Text	Modern Text
And so bifel, that in a daweninge, As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle Sat on his perche, that was in the halle, And next him sat this faire Pertelote, This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte, As man that in his dreem is drecched sore. And whan that Pertelote thus herde him rore, She was agast, and seyde, ‘O herte dere, What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere? Ye been a verray sleper, fy for shame!’	lWle oen iornmng at nwad, as celaentCirh asw tiisgtn on shi pcehr in shi alhl hwit rletetPeo and his toher weivs ecehrdp txen to mih, nahiltcereC nbaeg nnraggoi as if he wree igvhna a egrihntma. erWdiro, trPeoltee sakde, “haWt’s nrgwo, my rdae? yWh rae oyu gnoanirg leki ttah? ouY’re sayuull chus a udnso eprseel!”
And he answerde and seyde thus, ‘madame, I pray yow, that ye take it nat a-grief: By God, me mette I was in swich meschief Right now, that yet myn herte is sore afright. Now God,’ quod he, ‘my swevene recche aright, And keep my body out of foul prisoun! Me mette, how that I romed up and doun Withinne our yerde, wher-as I saugh a beste, Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad areste Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed. His colour was bitwixe yelwe and reed; And tipped was his tail, and bothe his eres, With blak, unlyk the remenant of his heres; His snowte smal, with glowinge eyen tweye. Yet of his look for fere almost I deye; This caused me my groning, doutelees.’	“nthioNg, ngonith’s rgonw.” lcihnreteCa dwnarsee. “I tjus ahd a ioebrhlr itrgehman. It swa so auwfl ahtt my retah’s tlisl cirang twhi rfae. doG, leph me ifgeur tuo waht isth armde anmes, nda peke me saef fmor igtgten edclok up! I adrmet htat I wsa klwngia nruoda in teh dray enhw I wsa an enoumors gikelod ebast taht dantwe to ahcct me dna likl me. shTi easbt asw a drsdehi-lelywo coorl, ubt klcba on hte ipts of ist leat and ersa. It dha a mlsla enos and otw glgiwon eyes. It’s illts rgscani me to hated utsj kgnnitih tuoab it, hihcw is aolbybpr wtha asdceu my gagronni.”

Original Text	Modern Text
And so bifel, that in a daweninge, As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle Sat on his perche, that was in the halle, And next him sat this faire Pertelote, This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte, As man that in his dreem is drecched sore. And whan that Pertelote thus herde him rore, She was agast, and seyde, ‘O herte dere, What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere? Ye been a verray sleper, fy for shame!’	lWle oen iornmng at nwad, as celaentCirh asw tiisgtn on shi pcehr in shi alhl hwit rletetPeo and his toher weivs ecehrdp txen to mih, nahiltcereC nbaeg nnraggoi as if he wree igvhna a egrihntma. erWdiro, trPeoltee sakde, “haWt’s nrgwo, my rdae? yWh rae oyu gnoanirg leki ttah? ouY’re sayuull chus a udnso eprseel!”
And he answerde and seyde thus, ‘madame, I pray yow, that ye take it nat a-grief: By God, me mette I was in swich meschief Right now, that yet myn herte is sore afright. Now God,’ quod he, ‘my swevene recche aright, And keep my body out of foul prisoun! Me mette, how that I romed up and doun Withinne our yerde, wher-as I saugh a beste, Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad areste Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed. His colour was bitwixe yelwe and reed; And tipped was his tail, and bothe his eres, With blak, unlyk the remenant of his heres; His snowte smal, with glowinge eyen tweye. Yet of his look for fere almost I deye; This caused me my groning, doutelees.’	“nthioNg, ngonith’s rgonw.” lcihnreteCa dwnarsee. “I tjus ahd a ioebrhlr itrgehman. It swa so auwfl ahtt my retah’s tlisl cirang twhi rfae. doG, leph me ifgeur tuo waht isth armde anmes, nda peke me saef fmor igtgten edclok up! I adrmet htat I wsa klwngia nruoda in teh dray enhw I wsa an enoumors gikelod ebast taht dantwe to ahcct me dna likl me. shTi easbt asw a drsdehi-lelywo coorl, ubt klcba on hte ipts of ist leat and ersa. It dha a mlsla enos and otw glgiwon eyes. It’s illts rgscani me to hated utsj kgnnitih tuoab it, hihcw is aolbybpr wtha asdceu my gagronni.”