No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: Prologue to the Wife of Bath’s Tale Page 25

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Original Text	Modern Text
And whan I saugh he wolde never fyne To reden on this cursed book al night, Al sodeynly three leves have I plight Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke, I with my fist so took him on the cheke, That in our fyr he fil bakward adoun. And he up-stirte as dooth a wood leoun, And with his fist he smoot me on the heed, That in the floor I lay as I were deed. And when he saugh how stille that I lay, He was agast, and wolde han fled his way, Til atte laste out of my swogh I breyde: “O! hastow slayn me, false theef?” I seyde, “And for my land thus hastow mordred me? Er I be deed, yet wol I kisse thee.”	And whan I saugh he wolde never fyne To reden on this cursed book al night, Al sodeynly three leves have I plight Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke, I with my fist so took him on the cheke, That in our fyr he fil bakward adoun. And he up-stirte as dooth a wood leoun, And with his fist he smoot me on the heed, That in the floor I lay as I were deed. And when he saugh how stille that I lay, He was agast, and wolde han fled his way, Til atte laste out of my swogh I breyde: “O! hastow slayn me, false theef?” I seyde, “And for my land thus hastow mordred me? Er I be deed, yet wol I kisse thee.”
And neer he cam, and kneled faire adoun, And seyde, “dere suster Alisoun, As help me God, I shal thee never smyte; That I have doon, it is thy-self to wyte. Foryeve it me, and that I thee biseke”— And yet eft-sones I hitte him on the cheke, And seyde, “theef, thus muchel am I wreke; Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke.” But atte laste, with muchel care and wo, We fille acorded, by us selven two. He yaf me al the brydel in myn hond To han the governance of hous and lond, And of his tonge and of his hond also, And made him brenne his book anon right tho. And whan that I hadde geten unto me, By maistrie, al the soveraynetee, And that he seyde, “myn owene trewe wyf, Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf, Keep thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat”— After that day we hadden never debaat. God help me so, I was to him as kinde As any wyf from Denmark unto Inde, And also trewe, and so was he to me. I prey to God that sit in magestee, So blesse his soule, for his mercy dere! Now wol I seye my tale, if ye wol here.’	And neer he cam, and kneled faire adoun, And seyde, “dere suster Alisoun, As help me God, I shal thee never smyte; That I have doon, it is thy-self to wyte. Foryeve it me, and that I thee biseke”— And yet eft-sones I hitte him on the cheke, And seyde, “theef, thus muchel am I wreke; Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke.” But atte laste, with muchel care and wo, We fille acorded, by us selven two. He yaf me al the brydel in myn hond To han the governance of hous and lond, And of his tonge and of his hond also, And made him brenne his book anon right tho. And whan that I hadde geten unto me, By maistrie, al the soveraynetee, And that he seyde, “myn owene trewe wyf, Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf, Keep thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat”— After that day we hadden never debaat. God help me so, I was to him as kinde As any wyf from Denmark unto Inde, And also trewe, and so was he to me. I prey to God that sit in magestee, So blesse his soule, for his mercy dere! Now wol I seye my tale, if ye wol here.’

Original Text	Modern Text
And whan I saugh he wolde never fyne To reden on this cursed book al night, Al sodeynly three leves have I plight Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke, I with my fist so took him on the cheke, That in our fyr he fil bakward adoun. And he up-stirte as dooth a wood leoun, And with his fist he smoot me on the heed, That in the floor I lay as I were deed. And when he saugh how stille that I lay, He was agast, and wolde han fled his way, Til atte laste out of my swogh I breyde: “O! hastow slayn me, false theef?” I seyde, “And for my land thus hastow mordred me? Er I be deed, yet wol I kisse thee.”	And whan I saugh he wolde never fyne To reden on this cursed book al night, Al sodeynly three leves have I plight Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke, I with my fist so took him on the cheke, That in our fyr he fil bakward adoun. And he up-stirte as dooth a wood leoun, And with his fist he smoot me on the heed, That in the floor I lay as I were deed. And when he saugh how stille that I lay, He was agast, and wolde han fled his way, Til atte laste out of my swogh I breyde: “O! hastow slayn me, false theef?” I seyde, “And for my land thus hastow mordred me? Er I be deed, yet wol I kisse thee.”
And neer he cam, and kneled faire adoun, And seyde, “dere suster Alisoun, As help me God, I shal thee never smyte; That I have doon, it is thy-self to wyte. Foryeve it me, and that I thee biseke”— And yet eft-sones I hitte him on the cheke, And seyde, “theef, thus muchel am I wreke; Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke.” But atte laste, with muchel care and wo, We fille acorded, by us selven two. He yaf me al the brydel in myn hond To han the governance of hous and lond, And of his tonge and of his hond also, And made him brenne his book anon right tho. And whan that I hadde geten unto me, By maistrie, al the soveraynetee, And that he seyde, “myn owene trewe wyf, Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf, Keep thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat”— After that day we hadden never debaat. God help me so, I was to him as kinde As any wyf from Denmark unto Inde, And also trewe, and so was he to me. I prey to God that sit in magestee, So blesse his soule, for his mercy dere! Now wol I seye my tale, if ye wol here.’	And neer he cam, and kneled faire adoun, And seyde, “dere suster Alisoun, As help me God, I shal thee never smyte; That I have doon, it is thy-self to wyte. Foryeve it me, and that I thee biseke”— And yet eft-sones I hitte him on the cheke, And seyde, “theef, thus muchel am I wreke; Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke.” But atte laste, with muchel care and wo, We fille acorded, by us selven two. He yaf me al the brydel in myn hond To han the governance of hous and lond, And of his tonge and of his hond also, And made him brenne his book anon right tho. And whan that I hadde geten unto me, By maistrie, al the soveraynetee, And that he seyde, “myn owene trewe wyf, Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf, Keep thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat”— After that day we hadden never debaat. God help me so, I was to him as kinde As any wyf from Denmark unto Inde, And also trewe, and so was he to me. I prey to God that sit in magestee, So blesse his soule, for his mercy dere! Now wol I seye my tale, if ye wol here.’