No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Miller's Tale The Miller’s Tale Page 1

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Original Text	Modern Text
HERE BIGINNETH THE MILLERE HIS TALE.	HERE BIGINNETH THE MILLERE HIS TALE.
Whylom ther was dwellinge at Oxenford A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord, And of his craft he was a Carpenter. With him ther was dwellinge a povre scoler, Had lerned art, but al his fantasye Was turned for to lerne astrologye, And coude a certeyn of conclusiouns To demen by interrogaciouns, If that men axed him in certein houres, Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures, Or if men axed him what sholde bifalle Of every thing, I may nat rekene hem alle.	Whylom ther was dwellinge at Oxenford A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord, And of his craft he was a Carpenter. With him ther was dwellinge a povre scoler, Had lerned art, but al his fantasye Was turned for to lerne astrologye, And coude a certeyn of conclusiouns To demen by interrogaciouns, If that men axed him in certein houres, Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures, Or if men axed him what sholde bifalle Of every thing, I may nat rekene hem alle.
This clerk was cleped hende Nicholtas; Of derne love he coude and of solas; And ther-to be was sleigh and ful privee, And lyk a mayden meke for to see. A chambre hadde he in that hostelrye Allone, with-outen any companye, Ful fetisly y-dight with herbes swote; And he him-self as swete as is the rote Of licorys, or any cetewale. His Almageste and bokes grete and smale, His astrelabie, longinge for his art, His augrim-stones layen faire a-part On shelves couched at his beddes heed: His presse y-covered with a falding reed. And al above ther lay a gay sautrye, On which he made a nightes melodye So swetely, that al the chambre rong; And Angelus ad virginem he song; And after that he song the kinges note; Ful often blessed was his mery throte. And thus this swete clerk his tyme spente After his freendes finding and his rente.	This clerk was cleped hende Nicholtas; Of derne love he coude and of solas; And ther-to be was sleigh and ful privee, And lyk a mayden meke for to see. A chambre hadde he in that hostelrye Allone, with-outen any companye, Ful fetisly y-dight with herbes swote; And he him-self as swete as is the rote Of licorys, or any cetewale. His Almageste and bokes grete and smale, His astrelabie, longinge for his art, His augrim-stones layen faire a-part On shelves couched at his beddes heed: His presse y-covered with a falding reed. And al above ther lay a gay sautrye, On which he made a nightes melodye So swetely, that al the chambre rong; And Angelus ad virginem he song; And after that he song the kinges note; Ful often blessed was his mery throte. And thus this swete clerk his tyme spente After his freendes finding and his rente.

Original Text	Modern Text
HERE BIGINNETH THE MILLERE HIS TALE.	HERE BIGINNETH THE MILLERE HIS TALE.
Whylom ther was dwellinge at Oxenford A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord, And of his craft he was a Carpenter. With him ther was dwellinge a povre scoler, Had lerned art, but al his fantasye Was turned for to lerne astrologye, And coude a certeyn of conclusiouns To demen by interrogaciouns, If that men axed him in certein houres, Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures, Or if men axed him what sholde bifalle Of every thing, I may nat rekene hem alle.	Whylom ther was dwellinge at Oxenford A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord, And of his craft he was a Carpenter. With him ther was dwellinge a povre scoler, Had lerned art, but al his fantasye Was turned for to lerne astrologye, And coude a certeyn of conclusiouns To demen by interrogaciouns, If that men axed him in certein houres, Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures, Or if men axed him what sholde bifalle Of every thing, I may nat rekene hem alle.
This clerk was cleped hende Nicholtas; Of derne love he coude and of solas; And ther-to be was sleigh and ful privee, And lyk a mayden meke for to see. A chambre hadde he in that hostelrye Allone, with-outen any companye, Ful fetisly y-dight with herbes swote; And he him-self as swete as is the rote Of licorys, or any cetewale. His Almageste and bokes grete and smale, His astrelabie, longinge for his art, His augrim-stones layen faire a-part On shelves couched at his beddes heed: His presse y-covered with a falding reed. And al above ther lay a gay sautrye, On which he made a nightes melodye So swetely, that al the chambre rong; And Angelus ad virginem he song; And after that he song the kinges note; Ful often blessed was his mery throte. And thus this swete clerk his tyme spente After his freendes finding and his rente.	This clerk was cleped hende Nicholtas; Of derne love he coude and of solas; And ther-to be was sleigh and ful privee, And lyk a mayden meke for to see. A chambre hadde he in that hostelrye Allone, with-outen any companye, Ful fetisly y-dight with herbes swote; And he him-self as swete as is the rote Of licorys, or any cetewale. His Almageste and bokes grete and smale, His astrelabie, longinge for his art, His augrim-stones layen faire a-part On shelves couched at his beddes heed: His presse y-covered with a falding reed. And al above ther lay a gay sautrye, On which he made a nightes melodye So swetely, that al the chambre rong; And Angelus ad virginem he song; And after that he song the kinges note; Ful often blessed was his mery throte. And thus this swete clerk his tyme spente After his freendes finding and his rente.