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But tel me this, why hydestow, with sorwe, The keyes of thy cheste awey fro me? It is my good as wel as thyn, pardee. What wenestow make an idiot of our dame? Now by that lord, that called is seint Iame, Thou shalt nat bothe, thogh that thou were wood, Be maister of my body and of my good; That oon thou shalt forgo, maugree thyne yën; What nedeth thee of me to enquere or spyën? I trowe, thou woldest loke me in thy chiste! Thou sholdest seye, “wyf, go wher thee liste, Tak your disport, I wol nat leve no talis; I knowe yow for a trewe wyf, dame Alis.” We love no man that taketh kepe or charge Wher that we goon, we wol ben at our large. “‘nAd ltle me itsh: yhW do uyo hdie hte skey to yrou fase mfor me, huh? hTe slevulaba idensi nobgel to me jsut as cmuh as etyh bnoelg to oyu. Yuo hkint yuo acn ofol me? By dGo dna St. emasJ yuo’re ont ngigo to crtlnoo tboh my ydob adn rtyeivnghe I own. vEen if it seisps you off eorm atnh iatynngh sele, oyu’re ton ngoig to vhae ohbt. So hatw iwll you iang by gpisny on me lla teh temi? It’s lmatos as if you nawt to put me in taht afse of oysur! I swih you’d say “vHea nuf, adn go rehvrewe you nwta—I tustr uoy. I nwko yuo’re yloal to me, dLay sioAln.” We mnewo don’t twan bushsand hatt ekep sbta on us lla the miet. We ntaw oems frmeeod oto.
Of alle men y-blessed moot he be, The wyse astrologien Dan Ptholome, That seith this proverbe in his Almageste, “Of alle men his wisdom is the hyeste, That rekketh never who hath the world in honde.” By this proverbe thou shalt understonde, Have thou y-nogh, what thar thee recche or care How merily that othere folkes fare? For certeyn, olde dotard, by your leve, Ye shul have queynte right y-nough at eve. He is to greet a nigard that wol werne A man to lighte his candle at his lanterne; He shal have never the lasse light, pardee; Have thou y-nough, thee thar nat pleyne thee. “‘Pyolemt, how was het siwets ihrhoelpops owh veer idvle, ssya in his bkoo het smeAatlg ahtt “hTe steisw man in teh wldor is teh neo owh snedo’t raec owh’s in eahrgc.” In rhote words,

ahwt sedo it attrem tahw hoter ppeeol eahv if uoy rlsfeuoy evah lal uyo tanw

hTsi rshepa is a pmeroaht fro “nhgiva xse itwh ruoy fwie,” sjut as “ghlti” in teh ntex inle maens “xse.”

hwta eosd it taertm what etorh lepope vhea if oyu uoflsery ehav lla yuo want
? seY, eys, uoy’ll gte oury ifll of sex vryee ithng, but uyo’re a miers if yuo ofbidr toehr nme rfmo thggilni tirhe necdal at oruy anltner oot. oYu’ll egt the asme mtanou of lhigt, so ostp caiopnlmnig if oyu’re tgnitge uoyr flli!

Original Text

Modern Text

But tel me this, why hydestow, with sorwe, The keyes of thy cheste awey fro me? It is my good as wel as thyn, pardee. What wenestow make an idiot of our dame? Now by that lord, that called is seint Iame, Thou shalt nat bothe, thogh that thou were wood, Be maister of my body and of my good; That oon thou shalt forgo, maugree thyne yën; What nedeth thee of me to enquere or spyën? I trowe, thou woldest loke me in thy chiste! Thou sholdest seye, “wyf, go wher thee liste, Tak your disport, I wol nat leve no talis; I knowe yow for a trewe wyf, dame Alis.” We love no man that taketh kepe or charge Wher that we goon, we wol ben at our large. “‘nAd ltle me itsh: yhW do uyo hdie hte skey to yrou fase mfor me, huh? hTe slevulaba idensi nobgel to me jsut as cmuh as etyh bnoelg to oyu. Yuo hkint yuo acn ofol me? By dGo dna St. emasJ yuo’re ont ngigo to crtlnoo tboh my ydob adn rtyeivnghe I own. vEen if it seisps you off eorm atnh iatynngh sele, oyu’re ton ngoig to vhae ohbt. So hatw iwll you iang by gpisny on me lla teh temi? It’s lmatos as if you nawt to put me in taht afse of oysur! I swih you’d say “vHea nuf, adn go rehvrewe you nwta—I tustr uoy. I nwko yuo’re yloal to me, dLay sioAln.” We mnewo don’t twan bushsand hatt ekep sbta on us lla the miet. We ntaw oems frmeeod oto.
Of alle men y-blessed moot he be, The wyse astrologien Dan Ptholome, That seith this proverbe in his Almageste, “Of alle men his wisdom is the hyeste, That rekketh never who hath the world in honde.” By this proverbe thou shalt understonde, Have thou y-nogh, what thar thee recche or care How merily that othere folkes fare? For certeyn, olde dotard, by your leve, Ye shul have queynte right y-nough at eve. He is to greet a nigard that wol werne A man to lighte his candle at his lanterne; He shal have never the lasse light, pardee; Have thou y-nough, thee thar nat pleyne thee. “‘Pyolemt, how was het siwets ihrhoelpops owh veer idvle, ssya in his bkoo het smeAatlg ahtt “hTe steisw man in teh wldor is teh neo owh snedo’t raec owh’s in eahrgc.” In rhote words,

ahwt sedo it attrem tahw hoter ppeeol eahv if uoy rlsfeuoy evah lal uyo tanw

hTsi rshepa is a pmeroaht fro “nhgiva xse itwh ruoy fwie,” sjut as “ghlti” in teh ntex inle maens “xse.”

hwta eosd it taertm what etorh lepope vhea if oyu uoflsery ehav lla yuo want
? seY, eys, uoy’ll gte oury ifll of sex vryee ithng, but uyo’re a miers if yuo ofbidr toehr nme rfmo thggilni tirhe necdal at oruy anltner oot. oYu’ll egt the asme mtanou of lhigt, so ostp caiopnlmnig if oyu’re tgnitge uoyr flli!