I think calling it incomprehensible is stretching it a bit:
The Prologue.
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot,
The drought of March hath pierced to the root,
And bathed every vein in such licour,
Of which virtue engender’d is the flower;
Granted it isn’t as easy to read as Douglas Adams but it’s far from impossible.
How about this bit:
Because that the cradle by it stood,
And wist not where she was, for it was derk;
But fair and well she crept in by the clerk,
And lay full still, and would have caught a sleep.
Within a while this John the Clerk up leap
And on this goode wife laid on full sore;
So merry a fit had she not had full yore.
He pricked hard and deep, as he were mad.
