Here singeth one: 

   At Biaucaire below the tower
   Sat Aucassin, on an hour,
   Heard the bird, and watched the flower,
   With his barons him beside,
   Then came on him in that tide,
   The sweet influence of love
   And the memory thereof;
   Thought of Nicolete the fair,
   And the dainty face of her
   He had loved so many years,
   Then was he in dule and tears! 
   Even then came Nicolete
   On the stair a foot she set,
   And she drew the viol bow
   Through the strings and chanted so;
   “Listen, lords and knights, to me,
   Lords of high or low degree,
   To my story list will ye
   All of Aucassin and her
   That was Nicolete the fair? 
   And their love was long to tell
   Deep woods through he sought her well,
   Paynims took them on a day
   In Torelore and bound they lay. 
   Of Aucassin nought know we,
   But fair Nicolete the free
   Now in Carthage doth she dwell,
   There her father loves her well,
   Who is king of that countrie. 
   Her a husband hath he found,
   Paynim lord that serves Mahound! 
   Ne’er with him the maid will go,
   For she loves a damoiseau,
   Aucassin, that ye may know,
   Swears to God that never mo
   With a lover will she go
   Save with him she loveth so
      In long desire.”

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

When Aucassin heard Nicolete speak in this wise, he was right joyful, and drew her on one side, and spoke, saying: 

“Sweet fair friend, know ye nothing of this Nicolete, of whom ye have thus sung?”

“Yea, Sir, I know her for the noblest creature, and the most gentle, and the best that ever was born on ground.  She is daughter to the King of Carthage that took her there where Aucassin was taken, and brought her into the city of Carthage, till he knew that verily she was his own daughter, whereon he made right great mirth.  Anon wished he to give her for her lord one of the greatest kings of all Spain, but she would rather let herself be hanged or burned, than take any lord, how great soever.”

“Ha! fair sweet friend,” quoth the Count Aucassin, “if thou wilt go into that land again, and bid her come and speak to me, I will give thee of my substance, more than thou wouldst dare to ask or take.  And know ye, that for the sake of her, I have no will to take a wife, howsoever high her lineage.  So wait I for her, and never will I have a wife, but her only.  And if I knew where to find her, no need would I have to seek her.”

“Sir,” quoth she, “if ye promise me that, I will go in quest of her for your sake, and for hers, that I love much.”

So he sware to her, and anon let give her twenty livres, and she departed from him, and he wept for the sweetness of Nicolete.  And when she saw him weeping, she said: 

“Sir, trouble not thyself so much withal.  For in a little while shall I have brought her into this city, and ye shall see her.”