No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Tale of Sir Thopas The Tale of Sir Thopas Page 6

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Original Text	Modern Text
His merie men comanded he To make him bothe game and glee, For nedes moste he fighte With a geaunt with hevedes three, For paramour and Iolitee Of oon that shoon ful brighte.	His merie men comanded he To make him bothe game and glee, For nedes moste he fighte With a geaunt with hevedes three, For paramour and Iolitee Of oon that shoon ful brighte.
‘Do come,’ he seyde, ‘my minstrales, And gestours, for to tellen tales Anon in myn arminge; Of romances that been royales, Of popes and of cardinales, And eek of love-lykinge.’	‘Do come,’ he seyde, ‘my minstrales, And gestours, for to tellen tales Anon in myn arminge; Of romances that been royales, Of popes and of cardinales, And eek of love-lykinge.’
They fette him first the swete wyn, And mede eek in a maselyn, And royal spicerye; Of gingebreed that was ful fyn, And lycorys, and eek comyn, With sugre that is so trye.	They fette him first the swete wyn, And mede eek in a maselyn, And royal spicerye; Of gingebreed that was ful fyn, And lycorys, and eek comyn, With sugre that is so trye.

Original Text	Modern Text
His merie men comanded he To make him bothe game and glee, For nedes moste he fighte With a geaunt with hevedes three, For paramour and Iolitee Of oon that shoon ful brighte.	His merie men comanded he To make him bothe game and glee, For nedes moste he fighte With a geaunt with hevedes three, For paramour and Iolitee Of oon that shoon ful brighte.
‘Do come,’ he seyde, ‘my minstrales, And gestours, for to tellen tales Anon in myn arminge; Of romances that been royales, Of popes and of cardinales, And eek of love-lykinge.’	‘Do come,’ he seyde, ‘my minstrales, And gestours, for to tellen tales Anon in myn arminge; Of romances that been royales, Of popes and of cardinales, And eek of love-lykinge.’
They fette him first the swete wyn, And mede eek in a maselyn, And royal spicerye; Of gingebreed that was ful fyn, And lycorys, and eek comyn, With sugre that is so trye.	They fette him first the swete wyn, And mede eek in a maselyn, And royal spicerye; Of gingebreed that was ful fyn, And lycorys, and eek comyn, With sugre that is so trye.