No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Tale of Sir Thopas The Tale of Sir Thopas Page 5

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Original Text	Modern Text
The child seyde, ‘al-so mote I thee, Tomorwe wol I mete thee Whan I have myn armoure; And yet I hope, par ma fay, That thou shalt with this launcegay Abyen it ful soure; Thy mawe Shal I percen, if I may, Er it be fully pryme of day, For heer thou shalt be slawe.’	The child seyde, ‘al-so mote I thee, Tomorwe wol I mete thee Whan I have myn armoure; And yet I hope, par ma fay, That thou shalt with this launcegay Abyen it ful soure; Thy mawe Shal I percen, if I may, Er it be fully pryme of day, For heer thou shalt be slawe.’
Sir Thopas drow abak ful faste; This geaunt at him stones caste Out of a fel staf-slinge; But faire escapeth child Thopas, And al it was thurgh Goddes gras, And thurgh his fair beringe.	Sir Thopas drow abak ful faste; This geaunt at him stones caste Out of a fel staf-slinge; But faire escapeth child Thopas, And al it was thurgh Goddes gras, And thurgh his fair beringe.
Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale Merier than the nightingale, For now I wol yow roune How sir Thopas with sydes smale, Priking over hil and dale, Is come agayn to toune.	Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale Merier than the nightingale, For now I wol yow roune How sir Thopas with sydes smale, Priking over hil and dale, Is come agayn to toune.

Original Text	Modern Text
The child seyde, ‘al-so mote I thee, Tomorwe wol I mete thee Whan I have myn armoure; And yet I hope, par ma fay, That thou shalt with this launcegay Abyen it ful soure; Thy mawe Shal I percen, if I may, Er it be fully pryme of day, For heer thou shalt be slawe.’	The child seyde, ‘al-so mote I thee, Tomorwe wol I mete thee Whan I have myn armoure; And yet I hope, par ma fay, That thou shalt with this launcegay Abyen it ful soure; Thy mawe Shal I percen, if I may, Er it be fully pryme of day, For heer thou shalt be slawe.’
Sir Thopas drow abak ful faste; This geaunt at him stones caste Out of a fel staf-slinge; But faire escapeth child Thopas, And al it was thurgh Goddes gras, And thurgh his fair beringe.	Sir Thopas drow abak ful faste; This geaunt at him stones caste Out of a fel staf-slinge; But faire escapeth child Thopas, And al it was thurgh Goddes gras, And thurgh his fair beringe.
Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale Merier than the nightingale, For now I wol yow roune How sir Thopas with sydes smale, Priking over hil and dale, Is come agayn to toune.	Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale Merier than the nightingale, For now I wol yow roune How sir Thopas with sydes smale, Priking over hil and dale, Is come agayn to toune.