Til at the last this sorwful wight Criseyde

To Troilus these ilke wordes seyde:—

180. 'Lo, herte myn, wel wot ye this,' quod she,

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'That if a wight alwey his wo compleyne,

And seketh nought how holpen for to be,

It nis but folye and encrees of peyne;

And sin that here assembled be we tweyne

To finde bote of wo that we ben inne,

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