"We will not say it," said he who was more ready of speech than the others. "Sorrow be his who sings it for you, fair sir!" "Fair children," said Aucassin, "do you not know me?" "Aye, we know well that you are Aucassin, our young lord; but we are not your men, but the Count's." "Fair children, you will do so, I pray you!" "Hear, by gog's heart!" said he. "And why should I sing for you, an it suit me not? When there is no man in this land so rich, saving Count Warren's self, who finding my oxen or my cows or my sheep in his pastures or in his crops, would dare to chase them from it, for fear of having his eyes put out. And why should I sing for you, an it suit me not?" "So God help you, fair children, you will do so! And take ten sous which I have here in a purse!" "Sir, the pence will we take, but I will not sing to you, for I have sworn it. But I will tell it to you, if you will." "I' God's name!" said Aucassin; "I had liefer telling than nothing." "Sir, we were here just now, between Prime and Tierce, and were eating our bread at this spring, even as we are doing now. And a maiden came here, the most beautiful thing in the world, so that we deemed it was a fay, and all the wood lightened with her. And she gave us of what was hers, so that we covenanted with her, if you came here, we would tell you that you are to go a-hunting in this forest. There is a beast there which, could you catch it, you would not give one of its limbs for five hundred marks of silver, nor for any wealth. For the beast has such a medicine that if you can catch it you will be cured of your hurt. Aye, and within three days must you have caught it, and if you have not caught it, never more will you see it. Now hunt it an you will, or an you will leave it; for I have well acquitted myself towards her." "Fair children," said Aucassin, "enough have you said; and God grant me to find it!" _Here they sing_. Aucassin has word for word Of his lithe-limbed lady heard; Deep they pierced him to the quick; From the herds he parted quick, Struck into the greenwood thick. Quickly stepped his gallant steed, Bore him fairly off full speed. Then he spake, three words he said: "Nicolette, O lithe-limbed maid! For your sake I thrid the glade! Stag nor boar I now pursue, But the sleuth I track for you! Your bright eyes and body lithe, Your sweet words and laughter blithe, Wounded have my heart to death. So God, the strong Father will, I shall look upon you still, Sister, sweet friend!" _Here they speak and tell the story_.