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and a little bit prouder when the race is over. It was

source:Believe it or notedit:newstime:2023-11-28 22:11:01

"Fair sweet love," saith he, "tell me who thou art, and be not adread of me."

and a little bit prouder when the race is over. It was

"Sir," said she, "I am daughter to the King of Carthage, and was taken, being then a little child, it is now fifteen years gone."

and a little bit prouder when the race is over. It was

When all they of the court heard her speak thus, they knew well that she spake sooth: so made they great joy of her, and led her to the castle in great honour, as the King's daughter. And they would have given her to her lord a King of Paynim, but she had no mind to marry. There dwelt she three days or four. And she considered by what means she might seek for Aucassin. Then she got her a viol, and learned to play on it, till they would have married her on a day to a great King of Paynim, and she stole forth by night, and came to the sea-port, and dwelt with a poor woman thereby. Then took she a certain herb, and therewith smeared her head and her face, till she was all brown and stained. And she let make coat, and mantle, and smock, and hose, and attired herself as if she had been a harper. So took she the viol and went to a mariner, and so wrought on him that he took her aboard his vessel. Then hoisted they sail, and fared on the high seas even till they came to the land of Provence. And Nicolete went forth and took the viol, and went playing through all that country, even till she came to the castle of Biaucaire, where Aucassin lay.

and a little bit prouder when the race is over. It was

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."

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