That trewely, for ought I can espye,
Ther is no verray wele in this world here.
But O, thou wikked serpent Ialousye,
Thou misbeleved and envious folye,
Why hastow Troilus me mad [untriste],
840
That never yet agilte him, that I wiste?'
121. Quod Pandarus, 'thus fallen is this cas.'
'Why, uncle myn,' quod she, 'who tolde him this?
Why doth my dere herte thus, allas?'