Now after these friends had loved for a great space it chanced that the season became warm and sweet.  It was the time when meadow and copse are green; when orchards grow white with bloom, and birds break into song as thickly as the bush to flower.  It is the season when he who loves would win to his desire.  Truly I tell you that the knight would have done all in his power to attain his wish, and the lady, for her part, yearned for sight and speech of her friend.  At night, when the moon shone clearly in the sky, and her lord lay sleeping at her side, often the dame slipped softly from her bed, and hastening to the casement, leaned forth to have sight of him who watched.  The greater part of the dark they kept vigil together, for very pleasant it is to look upon your friend, when sweeter things are denied.

This chanced so often, and the lady rose so frequently from her bed, that her lord was altogether wrathful, and many a time inquired the reason of her unrest.

“Husband,” replied the dame, “there is no dearer joy in this world, than to hear the nightingale sing.  It is to hearken to the song that rises so sweetly on the night, that I lean forth from the casement.  What tune of harp or viol is half so fair!  Because of my delight in his song, and of my desire to hear, I may not shut my eyes till it be morn.”

When the husband heard the lady’s words he laughed within himself for wrath and malice.  He purposed that very soon the nightingale should sing within a net.  So he bade the servants of his house to devise fillets and snares, and to set their cunning traps about the orchard.  Not a chestnut tree nor hazel within the garth but was limed and netted for the caging of this bird.  It was not long therefore ere the nightingale was taken, and the servants made haste to give him to the pleasure of their lord.  Wondrous merry was the knight when he held him living in his hand.  He went straightway to the chamber of his dame, and entering, said,

“Wife, are you within?  Come near, for I must speak with you.  Here is the nightingale, all limed and taken, who made vigil of your sleeping hours.  Take now your rest in peace, for he will never disturb you more.”

When the lady understood these words she was marvellously sorrowful and heavy.  She prayed her lord to grant her the nightingale for a gift.  But for all answer he wrung his neck with both hands so fiercely that the head was torn from the body.  Then, right foully, he flung the bird upon the knees of the dame, in such fashion that her breast was sprinkled with the blood.  So he departed, incontinent, from the chamber in a rage.

The lady took the little body in her hands, and wept his evil fate.  She railed on those who with nets and snares had betrayed the nightingale to his death; for anger and hate beyond measure had gained hold on her heart.

“Alas,” cried she, “evil is come upon me.  Never again may I rise from my bed in the night, and watch from the casement, so that I may see my friend.  One thing I know full well, that he will deem my love is no more set upon him.  Woe to her who has none to give her counsel.  This I will do.  I will bestow the nightingale upon him, and send him tidings of the chance that has befallen.”