What! hold your bed ther, thou, and eek thy Morwe!
1470
I bidde god, so yeve yow bothe sorwe!'
211. Therwith ful sore he sighte, and thus he seyde,
'My lady right, and of my wele or wo
The welle and rote, O goodly myn, Criseyde,
And shal I ryse, allas! and shal I go?
1475
Now fele I that myn herte moot a-two!
For how sholde I my lyf an houre save,