Out of hir eyen fille, and thus she seyde,
'Now god, thou wost, in thought ne dede untrewe
To Troilus was never yet Criseyde.'
1055
With that hir heed doun in the bed she leyde,
And with the shete it [wreigh], and syghed sore,
And held hir pees; not o word spak she more.
152. But now help god to quenchen al this sorwe,
So hope I that he shal, for he best may;
1060