Never shalt thou win me; still
Am I held in evil will
Of thy father and thy kin,
Therefore must I cross the sea,
And another land must win."
Then she cut her curls of gold,
Cast them in the dungeon hold,
Aucassin doth clasp them there,
Kissed the curls that were so fair,
Them doth in his bosom bear,
Then he wept, even as of old,
All for his love!
Then say they, speak they, tell they the Tale:
When Aucassin heard Nicolete say that she would pass into a far country,
he was all in wrath.
"Fair sweet friend," quoth he, "thou shalt not go, for then wouldst thou
be my death. And the first man that saw thee and had the might withal,
would take thee straightway into his bed to be his leman. And once thou
camest into a man's bed, and that bed not mine, wit ye well that I would
not tarry till I had found a knife to pierce my heart and slay myself.
Nay, verily, wait so long I would not: but would hurl myself on it so
soon as I could find a wall, or a black stone, thereon would I dash my
head so mightily, that the eyes would start, and my brain burst. Rather
would I die even such a death, than know thou hadst lain in a man's bed,
and that bed not mine."
"Aucassin," she said, "I trow thou lovest me not as much as thou sayest,
but I love thee more than thou lovest me.
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