“Wherefore so, brother?”

“Sir, I will tell thee.  I was hireling to a rich vilain, and drove his plough; four oxen had he.  But three days since came on me great misadventure, whereby I lost the best of mine oxen, Roger, the best of my team.  Him go I seeking, and have neither eaten nor drunken these three days, nor may I go to the town, lest they cast me into prison, seeing that I have not wherewithal to pay.  Out of all the wealth of the world have I no more than ye see on my body.  A poor mother bare me, that had no more but one wretched bed; this have they taken from under her, and she lies in the very straw.  This ails me more than mine own case, for wealth comes and goes; if now I have lost, another tide will I gain, and will pay for mine ox whenas I may; never for that will I weep.  But you weep for a stinking hound.  Foul fall whoso thinks well of thee!”

“Certes thou art a good comforter, brother, blessed be thou!  And of what price was thine ox?”

“Sir, they ask me twenty sols for him, whereof I cannot abate one doit.”

“Nay, then,” quoth Aucassin, “take these twenty sols I have in my purse, and pay for thine ox.”

“Sir,” saith he, “gramercy.  And God give thee to find that thou seekest.”

So they parted each from other, and Aucassin rode on:  the night was fair and still, and so long he went that he came to the lodge of boughs, that Nicolete had builded and woven within and without, over and under, with flowers, and it was the fairest lodge that might be seen.  When Aucassin was ware of it, he stopped suddenly, and the light of the moon fell therein.

“God!” quoth Aucassin, “here was Nicolete, my sweet lady, and this lodge builded she with her fair hands.  For the sweetness of it, and for love of her, will I alight, and rest here this night long.”

He drew forth his foot from the stirrup to alight, and the steed was great and tall.  He dreamed so much on Nicolete his right sweet lady, that he slipped on a stone, and drave his shoulder out of his place.  Then knew he that he was hurt sore, natheless he bore him with what force he might, and fastened with the other hand the mare’s son to a thorn.  Then turned he on his side, and crept backwise into the lodge of boughs.  And he looked through a gap in the lodge and saw the stars in heaven, and one that was brighter than the rest; so began he to say: 

Here one singeth: 

   “Star, that I from far behold,
   Star, the Moon calls to her fold,
   Nicolete with thee doth dwell,
   My sweet love with locks of gold,
   God would have her dwell afar,
   Dwell with him for evening star,
   Would to God, whate’er befell,
   Would that with her I might dwell. 
   I would clip her close and strait,
   Nay, were I of much estate,
   Some king’s son desirable,
   Worthy she to be my mate,
   Me to kiss and clip me well,
      Sister, sweet friend!”