Ac ever sche held in o cri

And wold up and owy.

When Orfeo herd that tiding

Never him nas wers for no thing;

He come with knightes tene

To chaumber right bifor the quene,

And biheld and seyd with grete pite:

O lef[79] liif, what is te,[80]

That ever yete hast ben so stille,

And now gredest[81] wonder schille[82];