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‘Nay than,’ quod she, ‘I shrewe us bothe two! For thogh that I be foul, and old, and pore, I nolde for al the metal, ne for ore, That under erthe is grave, or lyth above, But-if thy wyf I were, and eek thy love.’ ‘Nay than,’ quod she, ‘I shrewe us bothe two! For thogh that I be foul, and old, and pore, I nolde for al the metal, ne for ore, That under erthe is grave, or lyth above, But-if thy wyf I were, and eek thy love.’
‘My love?’ quod he; ‘nay, my dampnacioun! Allas! that any of my nacioun Sholde ever so foule disparaged be!’ But al for noght, the ende is this, that he Constreyned was, he nedes moste hir wedde; And taketh his olde wyf, and gooth to bedde. ‘My love?’ quod he; ‘nay, my dampnacioun! Allas! that any of my nacioun Sholde ever so foule disparaged be!’ But al for noght, the ende is this, that he Constreyned was, he nedes moste hir wedde; And taketh his olde wyf, and gooth to bedde.
Now wolden som men seye, paraventure, That, for my necligence, I do no cure To tellen yow the Ioye and al tharray That at the feste was that ilke day. To whiche thing shortly answere I shal; I seye, ther nas no Ioye ne feste at al, Ther nas but hevinesse and muche sorwe; For prively he wedded hir on a morwe, And al day after hidde him as an oule; So wo was him, his wyf looked so foule. Now wolden som men seye, paraventure, That, for my necligence, I do no cure To tellen yow the Ioye and al tharray That at the feste was that ilke day. To whiche thing shortly answere I shal; I seye, ther nas no Ioye ne feste at al, Ther nas but hevinesse and muche sorwe; For prively he wedded hir on a morwe, And al day after hidde him as an oule; So wo was him, his wyf looked so foule.
Greet was the wo the knight hadde in his thoght, Whan he was with his wyf a-bedde y-broght; He walweth, and he turneth to and fro. His olde wyf lay smylinge evermo, And seyde, ‘o dere housbond, benedicite! Fareth every knight thus with his wyf as ye? Is this the lawe of king Arthures hous? Is every knight of his so dangerous? I am your owene love and eek your wyf; I am she, which that saved hath your lyf; And certes, yet dide I yow never unright; Why fare ye thus with me this firste night? Ye faren lyk a man had lost his wit; What is my gilt? for Goddes love, tel me it, And it shal been amended, if I may.’ Greet was the wo the knight hadde in his thoght, Whan he was with his wyf a-bedde y-broght; He walweth, and he turneth to and fro. His olde wyf lay smylinge evermo, And seyde, ‘o dere housbond, benedicite! Fareth every knight thus with his wyf as ye? Is this the lawe of king Arthures hous? Is every knight of his so dangerous? I am your owene love and eek your wyf; I am she, which that saved hath your lyf; And certes, yet dide I yow never unright; Why fare ye thus with me this firste night? Ye faren lyk a man had lost his wit; What is my gilt? for Goddes love, tel me it, And it shal been amended, if I may.’

Original Text

Modern Text

‘Nay than,’ quod she, ‘I shrewe us bothe two! For thogh that I be foul, and old, and pore, I nolde for al the metal, ne for ore, That under erthe is grave, or lyth above, But-if thy wyf I were, and eek thy love.’ ‘Nay than,’ quod she, ‘I shrewe us bothe two! For thogh that I be foul, and old, and pore, I nolde for al the metal, ne for ore, That under erthe is grave, or lyth above, But-if thy wyf I were, and eek thy love.’
‘My love?’ quod he; ‘nay, my dampnacioun! Allas! that any of my nacioun Sholde ever so foule disparaged be!’ But al for noght, the ende is this, that he Constreyned was, he nedes moste hir wedde; And taketh his olde wyf, and gooth to bedde. ‘My love?’ quod he; ‘nay, my dampnacioun! Allas! that any of my nacioun Sholde ever so foule disparaged be!’ But al for noght, the ende is this, that he Constreyned was, he nedes moste hir wedde; And taketh his olde wyf, and gooth to bedde.
Now wolden som men seye, paraventure, That, for my necligence, I do no cure To tellen yow the Ioye and al tharray That at the feste was that ilke day. To whiche thing shortly answere I shal; I seye, ther nas no Ioye ne feste at al, Ther nas but hevinesse and muche sorwe; For prively he wedded hir on a morwe, And al day after hidde him as an oule; So wo was him, his wyf looked so foule. Now wolden som men seye, paraventure, That, for my necligence, I do no cure To tellen yow the Ioye and al tharray That at the feste was that ilke day. To whiche thing shortly answere I shal; I seye, ther nas no Ioye ne feste at al, Ther nas but hevinesse and muche sorwe; For prively he wedded hir on a morwe, And al day after hidde him as an oule; So wo was him, his wyf looked so foule.
Greet was the wo the knight hadde in his thoght, Whan he was with his wyf a-bedde y-broght; He walweth, and he turneth to and fro. His olde wyf lay smylinge evermo, And seyde, ‘o dere housbond, benedicite! Fareth every knight thus with his wyf as ye? Is this the lawe of king Arthures hous? Is every knight of his so dangerous? I am your owene love and eek your wyf; I am she, which that saved hath your lyf; And certes, yet dide I yow never unright; Why fare ye thus with me this firste night? Ye faren lyk a man had lost his wit; What is my gilt? for Goddes love, tel me it, And it shal been amended, if I may.’ Greet was the wo the knight hadde in his thoght, Whan he was with his wyf a-bedde y-broght; He walweth, and he turneth to and fro. His olde wyf lay smylinge evermo, And seyde, ‘o dere housbond, benedicite! Fareth every knight thus with his wyf as ye? Is this the lawe of king Arthures hous? Is every knight of his so dangerous? I am your owene love and eek your wyf; I am she, which that saved hath your lyf; And certes, yet dide I yow never unright; Why fare ye thus with me this firste night? Ye faren lyk a man had lost his wit; What is my gilt? for Goddes love, tel me it, And it shal been amended, if I may.’