“Os!” fait cil; “por le cuer que cil sires eut en sen ventre! que vos plorastes por un cien puant!  Mal dehait ait qui ja mais vos prisera quant il n’a si rice home en ceste tere se vos peres len mandoit x u xv u xx qu’il ne les envoyast trop volontiers et s’en esteroit trop lies.  Mais je dois plorer et dol faire?”

“Et tu de quoi frere?”

“Sire je lo vos dirai.  J’estoie liues a un rice vilain si cacoie se carue. iiii bues i avoit.  Or a iii jors qu il m’avint une grande malaventure que je perdi le mellor de mes bues Roget le mellor de me carue.  Si le vois querant.  Si ne mengai ne ne bue iii jors a passes.  Si n’os aler a le vile c’on me metroit en prison que je ne l’ai de quoi saure.  De tot l’avoir du monde n’ai je plus vaillant que vos vees sor le cors de mi.  Une lasse mere avoie, si n’avoit plus vaillant que une keutisele, si h a on sacie de desous le dos si gist a pur l’estrain, si m’en poise asses plus que denu.  Car avoirs va et viaent; se j’ai or perdu je gaaignerai une autre fois si sorrai mon buef quant je porrai, ne ja por cien n’en plorerai.  Et vos plorastes por un cien de longaigne!  Mal dehait ait qui mais vos prisera!”

“Certes tu es de bon confort, biax frere! que benois sois tu!  Et que valoit tes bues!”

“Sire xx sous m’en demande on, je n’en puis mie abatre une seule maille.”

“Or, tien” fait Aucassins, “xx que j’ai ci en me borse, si sol ten buef!”

“Listen!” said he, “By the heart God had in his body, that you should cry for a stinking dog!  Bad luck to him who ever prizes you!  When there is no man in this land so great, if your father sent to him for ten or fifteen or twenty but would fetch them very gladly, and be only too pleased.  But I ought to cry and mourn.”

“And—­why you, brother?”

“Sir, I will tell you.  I was hired out to a rich farmer to drive his plough.  There were four oxen.  Now three days ago I had a great misfortune, for I lost the best of my oxen, Roget, the best of my team.  I am looking to find him.  I’ve not eaten or drunk these three days past.  I dare n’t go to the town, for they would put me in prison as I’ve nothing to pay with.  In all the world I’ve not the worth of anything but what you see on my body I’ve a poor old mother who owned nothing but a feather mattress, and they’ve dragged it from under her back so she lies on the bare straw, and she troubles me more than myself.  For riches come and go if I lose to day, I gain to-morrow; I will pay for my ox when I can, and will not cry for that.  And you cry for a filthy dog!  Bad luck to him who ever thinks well of you!”

“Truly, you counsel well, good brother!  God bless you!  And what was your ox worth?”

“Sir, they ask me twenty sous for it.  I cannot beat them down a single centime.”

“Here are twenty,” said Aucassins, “that I have in my purse!  Pay for your ox!”

“Sire!” fait il, “grans mercies! et dix vos laist trover ce que vox queres!”