140. And to Pandare he held up bothe his hondes,
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And seyde, 'lord, al thyn be that I have;
For I am hool, al brosten been my bondes;
A thousand Troians who so that me yave,
Eche after other, god so wis me save,
Ne mighte me so gladen; lo, myn herte,
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It spredeth so for Ioye, it wol to-sterte!
141. But lord, how shal I doon, how shal I liven?