As thoughte him tho, for pietous distresse,
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The blody teres from his herte melte,
As he that never yet swich hevinesse
Assayed hadde, out of so greet gladnesse,
Gan therwith-al Criseyde his lady dere
In armes streyne, and seyde in this manere:—
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208. 'O cruel day, accusour of the Ioye
That night and love han stole and faste y-wryen,