Tenzon Between Hugh of Saint Circ and the Count of Rodez

"Sir Count, 'twere good that ye no more
Should dwell through me in doubt and fear,
For nowise deem that I am here
Aught of your mercy to implore:
Of others need I nothing gain,
Whilst lack of gold does you constrain;
I have to beg of you small wish or need
Rather great kindness 'twere your wants to feed."

"Hugh of Saint Circ, it grieves me sore
To see you, who were e'en this year
Naked, and poor, and sad of cheer,
Till plenteous gifts from me ye bore;
Much more ye cost me to maintain
Than noble knights or archers twain;
Yet if perchance I offered you a steed
This well I know ye'd take, so God me speed."