That thou thus fleest, and deynest us nought reste!
206. Thou dost, allas! to shortly thyn offyce,
Thou rakel night, [ther] god, makere of kinde,
Thee, for thyn hast and thyn unkinde vyce,
So faste ay to our hemi-spere binde,
1440
That never-more under the ground thou winde!
For now, for thou so hyest out of Troye,
Have I forgon thus hastily my Ioye!'
207. This Troilus, that with tho wordes felte,