A page came riding up the street, Bringing the knight his jennets fleet, With plumes and harness all bedight And saddled well with housings bright; The lance which he on entering bore Brandished the knight with spirit sore, And dashed it to the wall, And head and butt, at that proud door, In myriad fragments fall.

When the book opens we discover the amorous Marcomine and the valiant Genebaud sallying forth along the bank of a river on two beautiful horses of the best jennet-race.