No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: Prologue to the Wife of Bath’s Tale Page 15

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Original Text	Modern Text
Thanne wolde I seye, ‘gode lief, tak keep How mekely loketh Wilkin oure sheep; Com neer, my spouse, lat me ba thy cheke! Ye sholde been al pacient and meke, And han a swete spyced conscience, Sith ye so preche of Iobes pacience. Suffreth alwey, sin ye so wel can preche; And but ye do, certain we shal yow teche That it is fair to have a wyf in pees. Oon of us two moste bowen, doutelees; And sith a man is more resonable Than womman is, ye moste been suffrable. What eyleth yow to grucche thus and grone? Is it for ye wolde have my queynte allone? Why taak it al, lo, have it every-deel; Peter! I shrewe yow but ye love it weel! For if I wolde selle my bele chose, I coude walke as fresh as is a rose; But I wol kepe it for your owene tooth. Ye be to blame, by God, I sey yow sooth.’	Thanne wolde I seye, ‘gode lief, tak keep How mekely loketh Wilkin oure sheep; Com neer, my spouse, lat me ba thy cheke! Ye sholde been al pacient and meke, And han a swete spyced conscience, Sith ye so preche of Iobes pacience. Suffreth alwey, sin ye so wel can preche; And but ye do, certain we shal yow teche That it is fair to have a wyf in pees. Oon of us two moste bowen, doutelees; And sith a man is more resonable Than womman is, ye moste been suffrable. What eyleth yow to grucche thus and grone? Is it for ye wolde have my queynte allone? Why taak it al, lo, have it every-deel; Peter! I shrewe yow but ye love it weel! For if I wolde selle my bele chose, I coude walke as fresh as is a rose; But I wol kepe it for your owene tooth. Ye be to blame, by God, I sey yow sooth.’
Swiche maner wordes hadde we on honde. Now wol I speken of my fourthe housbonde.	Swiche maner wordes hadde we on honde. Now wol I speken of my fourthe housbonde.
My fourthe housbonde was a revelour, This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour; And I was yong and ful of ragerye, Stiborn and strong, and Ioly as a pye. Wel coude I daunce to an harpe smale, And singe, y-wis, as any nightingale, Whan I had dronke a draughte of swete wyn. Metellius, the foule cherl, the swyn, That with a staf birafte his wyf hir lyf, For she drank wyn, thogh I hadde been his wyf, He sholde nat han daunted me fro drinke; And, after wyn, on Venus moste I thinke: For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl, A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl. In womman vinolent is no defence, This knowen lechours by experience.	My fourthe housbonde was a revelour, This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour; And I was yong and ful of ragerye, Stiborn and strong, and Ioly as a pye. Wel coude I daunce to an harpe smale, And singe, y-wis, as any nightingale, Whan I had dronke a draughte of swete wyn. Metellius, the foule cherl, the swyn, That with a staf birafte his wyf hir lyf, For she drank wyn, thogh I hadde been his wyf, He sholde nat han daunted me fro drinke; And, after wyn, on Venus moste I thinke: For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl, A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl. In womman vinolent is no defence, This knowen lechours by experience.

Original Text	Modern Text
Thanne wolde I seye, ‘gode lief, tak keep How mekely loketh Wilkin oure sheep; Com neer, my spouse, lat me ba thy cheke! Ye sholde been al pacient and meke, And han a swete spyced conscience, Sith ye so preche of Iobes pacience. Suffreth alwey, sin ye so wel can preche; And but ye do, certain we shal yow teche That it is fair to have a wyf in pees. Oon of us two moste bowen, doutelees; And sith a man is more resonable Than womman is, ye moste been suffrable. What eyleth yow to grucche thus and grone? Is it for ye wolde have my queynte allone? Why taak it al, lo, have it every-deel; Peter! I shrewe yow but ye love it weel! For if I wolde selle my bele chose, I coude walke as fresh as is a rose; But I wol kepe it for your owene tooth. Ye be to blame, by God, I sey yow sooth.’	Thanne wolde I seye, ‘gode lief, tak keep How mekely loketh Wilkin oure sheep; Com neer, my spouse, lat me ba thy cheke! Ye sholde been al pacient and meke, And han a swete spyced conscience, Sith ye so preche of Iobes pacience. Suffreth alwey, sin ye so wel can preche; And but ye do, certain we shal yow teche That it is fair to have a wyf in pees. Oon of us two moste bowen, doutelees; And sith a man is more resonable Than womman is, ye moste been suffrable. What eyleth yow to grucche thus and grone? Is it for ye wolde have my queynte allone? Why taak it al, lo, have it every-deel; Peter! I shrewe yow but ye love it weel! For if I wolde selle my bele chose, I coude walke as fresh as is a rose; But I wol kepe it for your owene tooth. Ye be to blame, by God, I sey yow sooth.’
Swiche maner wordes hadde we on honde. Now wol I speken of my fourthe housbonde.	Swiche maner wordes hadde we on honde. Now wol I speken of my fourthe housbonde.
My fourthe housbonde was a revelour, This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour; And I was yong and ful of ragerye, Stiborn and strong, and Ioly as a pye. Wel coude I daunce to an harpe smale, And singe, y-wis, as any nightingale, Whan I had dronke a draughte of swete wyn. Metellius, the foule cherl, the swyn, That with a staf birafte his wyf hir lyf, For she drank wyn, thogh I hadde been his wyf, He sholde nat han daunted me fro drinke; And, after wyn, on Venus moste I thinke: For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl, A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl. In womman vinolent is no defence, This knowen lechours by experience.	My fourthe housbonde was a revelour, This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour; And I was yong and ful of ragerye, Stiborn and strong, and Ioly as a pye. Wel coude I daunce to an harpe smale, And singe, y-wis, as any nightingale, Whan I had dronke a draughte of swete wyn. Metellius, the foule cherl, the swyn, That with a staf birafte his wyf hir lyf, For she drank wyn, thogh I hadde been his wyf, He sholde nat han daunted me fro drinke; And, after wyn, on Venus moste I thinke: For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl, A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl. In womman vinolent is no defence, This knowen lechours by experience.