Goodly abayst, and now his hewes rede,
95
Now pale, un-to Criseyde, his lady dere,
With look doun cast and humble yolden chere,
Lo, the alderfirste word that him asterte
Was, twyes, 'mercy, mercy, swete herte!'
15. And stinte a whyl, and whan he mighte out-bringe,
100
The nexte word was, 'god wot, for I have,
As feythfully as I have had konninge,