Here singeth one: 

   Nicolete as ye heard tell
   Prisoned is within a cell
   That is painted wondrously
   With colours of a far countrie,
   And the window of marble wrought,
   There the maiden stood in thought,
   With straight brows and yellow hair
   Never saw ye fairer fair! 
   On the wood she gazed below,
   And she saw the roses blow,
   Heard the birds sing loud and low,
   Therefore spoke she wofully: 
   “Ah me, wherefore do I lie
   Here in prison wrongfully: 
   Aucassin, my love, my knight,
   Am I not thy heart’s delight,
   Thou that lovest me aright! 
   ’Tis for thee that I must dwell
   In the vaulted chamber cell,
   Hard beset and all alone! 
   By our Lady Mary’s Son
   Here no longer will I wonn,
      If I may flee!

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

Nicolete was in prison, as ye have heard soothly, in the chamber.  And the noise and bruit of it went through all the country and all the land, how that Nicolete was lost.  Some said she had fled the country, and some that the Count Garin de Biaucaire had let slay her.  Whosoever had joy thereof, Aucassin had none, so he went to the Captain of the town and spoke to him, saying: 

“Sir Captain, what hast thou made of Nicolete, my sweet lady and love, the thing that best I love in all the world?  Hast thou carried her off or ravished her away from me?  Know well that if I die of it, the price shall be demanded of thee, and that will be well done, for it shall be even as if thou hadst slain me with thy two hands, for thou hast taken from me the thing that in this world I loved the best.”

“Fair Sir,” said the Captain, “let these things be.  Nicolete is a captive that I did bring from a strange country.  Yea, I bought her at my own charges of the Saracens, and I bred her up and baptized her, and made her my daughter in God.  And I have cherished her, and one of these days I would have given her a young man, to win her bread honourably.  With this hast thou naught to make, but do thou take the daughter of a King or a Count.  Nay more, what wouldst thou deem thee to have gained, hadst thou made her thy leman, and taken her to thy bed?  Plentiful lack of comfort hadst thou got thereby, for in Hell would thy soul have lain while the world endures, and into Paradise wouldst thou have entered never.”

“In Paradise what have I to win?  Therein I seek not to enter, but only to have Nicolete, my sweet lady that I love so well.  For into Paradise go none but such folk as I shall tell thee now:  Thither go these same old priests, and halt old men and maimed, who all day and night cower continually before the altars, and in the crypts; and such folk as wear old amices and old clouted frocks, and naked folk and shoeless, and covered with sores, perishing of hunger and thirst, and of cold, and of little ease.