And, for that thocht furth ſchewing vil his mycht,
[1280] Go fare-wel reſt and quiet of the nycht.
Arthur cannot rest.
Artur, I meyne, to whome that reſt is nocht,
But al the nycht ſuppriſit is with thocht;
In to his bed he turnyth to and fro,
[1284] Remembryng the apperans of his wo,
That is to ſay, his deith, his confuſioune,
And of his realme the opin diſtruccioune.
That in his wit he can no thing prowide,