And if I may your harmes not redresse,
140
I am right sory for your hevinesse.
21. And though ye Troians with us Grekes wrothe
Han many a day be, alwey yet, pardee,
[O god of love] in sooth we serven bothe.
And, for the love of god, my lady free,
145
Whom so ye hate, as beth not wroth with me.
For trewely, ther can no wight yow serve,