"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. These be they that go into Paradise, with them have I naught to make. But into Hell would I fain go; for into Hell fare the goodly clerks, and goodly knights that fall in tourneys and great wars, and stout men at arms, and all men noble. With these would I liefly go. And thither pass the sweet ladies and courteous that have two lovers, or three, and their lords also thereto. Thither goes the gold, and the silver, and cloth of vair, and cloth of gris, and harpers, and makers, and the prince of this world. With these I would gladly go, let me but have with me, Nicolete, my sweetest lady." "Certes," quoth the Captain, "in vain wilt thou speak thereof, for never shalt thou see her; and if thou hadst word with her, and thy father knew it, he would let burn in a fire both her and me, and thyself might well be sore adread." "That is even what irketh me," quoth Aucassin. So he went from the Captain sorrowing. _Here singeth one_: Aucassin did so depart Much in dole and heavy at heart For his love so bright and dear, None might bring him any cheer, None might give good words to hear, To the palace doth he fare Climbeth up the palace-stair, Passeth to a chamber there, Thus great sorrow doth he bear, For his lady and love so fair. "Nicolete how fair art thou, Sweet thy foot-fall, sweet thine eyes, Sweet the mirth of thy replies, Sweet thy laughter, sweet thy face, Sweet thy lips and sweet thy brow, And the touch of thine embrace, All for thee I sorrow now, Captive in an evil place, Whence I ne'er may go my ways Sister, sweet friend!" So say they, speak they, tell they the Tale: While Aucassin was in the chamber sorrowing for Nicolete his love, even then the Count Bougars de Valence, that had his war to wage, forgat it no whit, but had called up his horsemen and his footmen, so made he for the castle to storm it. And the cry of battle arose, and the din, and knights and men at arms busked them, and ran to walls and gates to hold the keep. And the towns-folk mounted to the battlements, and cast down bolts and pikes. Then while the assault was great, and even at its height, the Count Garin de Biaucaire came into the chamber where Aucassin was making lament, sorrowing for Nicolete, his sweet lady that he loved so well.