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| | TROILUS AND CRISEYDE (Site not responding. Last check: 2007-09-11) |
 | | Criseyde was this lady name a-right; As to my dome, in al Troyes citee Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee, That lyk a thing immortal semed she, As doth an hevenish parfit creature, That doun were sent in scorning of nature. |
 | | With-inne the temple he wente him forth pleyinge, This Troilus, of every wight aboute, On this lady and now on that lokinge, Wher-so she were of toune, or of with-oute: And up-on cas bifel, that thorugh a route His eye perced, and so depe it wente, Til on Criseyde it smoot, and ther it stente. |
 | | This Troilus sat on his baye stede, Al armed, save his heed, ful richely, And wounded was his hors, and gan to blede, On whiche he rood a pas, ful softely; But swych a knightly sighte, trewely, As was on him, was nought, with-outen faile, To loke on Mars, that god is of batayle. |
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