She that gave us gold to ware.

     Cakes therewith to buy ye know,

     Goodly knives and sheaths also.

     Flutes to play, and pipes to blow,

     May God him heal!”

   Here speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:

   When Aucassin heard the shepherds, anon he bethought him of Nicolete, his sweet lady he loved so well, and he deemed that she had passed thereby; then set he spurs to his horse, and so came to the shepherds.

   “Fair boys, God be with you.”

   “God bless you,” quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest.

   “Fair boys,” quoth Aucassin, “say the song again that anon ye sang.”

   “Say it we will not,” quoth he that had more words to his tongue than the rest, “foul fall him who will sing it again for you, fair sir!”

   “Fair boys,” quoth Aucassin, “know ye me not?”

   “Yea, we know well that you are Aucassin, out damoiseau, natheless we be not your men, but the Count’s.”

   “Fair boys, yet sing it again, I pray you.”

   “Hearken! by the Holy Heart,” quoth he, “wherefore should I sing for you, if it likes me not? Lo, there is no such rich man in this country, saving the body of Garin the Count, that dare drive forth my oxen, or my cows, or my sheep, if he finds them in his fields, or his corn, lest he lose his eyes for it, and wherefore should I sing for you, if it likes me not?”

   “God be your aid, fair boys, sing it ye will, and take ye these ten sols I have here in a purse.”

   “Sir, the money will we take, but never a note will I sing, for I have given my oath, but I will tell thee a plain tale, if thou wilt.”

   “By God,” saith Aucassin, “I love a plain tale better than naught.”

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