No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: Prologue to the Wife of Bath’s Tale Page 11

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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.	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.
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.	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.

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.	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.
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.	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.