"Cryseyda gan al his chere aspyen, And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke, That to hirself she seyde: Who yaf me drinke?"

"Cryseyda gan al his chere aspyen, And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke, That to hirself she seyde: Who yaf me drinke?"
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"Cryseyda gan al his chere aspyen, And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke, That to hirself she seyde: Who yaf me drinke?"

from: The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer: A Facsimile of the William Morris Kelmscott Chaucer (P. 482) -  1958
Additional Information:
"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 swich a knightly sighte, trewely,
As was on him, was nought, withouten faile,
To loke on Mars, that god is of batayle." (p. 488-489)

"Cryseyda gan al his chere aspyen,
And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke,
That to hirself she seyde: Who yaf me drinke?" (p. 489)