I not; my wit is al aweye.
320
I fare as doth the song of Chaunte-pleure.
For now I pleyne, and now I pleye,
I am so mased that I deye,
Arcite hath born awey the keye
Of al my worlde, and my good aventure!
325
¶ For in this worlde nis creature
Wakinge, in more discomfiture