'Tis of Aucassin and of Nicolette

Who would list a pleasant lay, Pastime of the old and grey? Of two lovers, children yet, Aucassin and Nicolette; Of the sorrows he went through, Of the great things he did do, All for his bright favoured may. Sweet the song is, fair the say, Full of art and full of grace. There is none in such ill case, Sad with sorrow, waste with care, Sick with sadness, if he hear, But shall in the hearing be Whole again and glad with glee, So sweet the story.

Here they speak and tell the story.