r the worst, and entangle not thyself with present fancies, lest
loving in haste, thou repent thee at leisure. Ah, but yet, Rosalynde,
it is Rosader that courts thee; one who as he is beautiful, so he is
virtuous, and harboreth in his mind as many good qualities as his face
is shadowed with gracious favors; and therefore, Rosalynde, stoop to
love, lest, being either too coy or too cruel, Venus wax wroth, and
plague thee with the reward of disdain."

Rosalynde, thus passionate, was wakened from her dumps[1] by Aliena,
who said it was time to go to bed. Corydon swore that was true, for
Charles' Wain was risen in the north. Whereupon each taking leave of
other, went to their rest, all but the poor Rosalynde, who was so full
of passions, that she could not possess any content. Well, leaving her
to her broken slumbers, expect what was performed by them the next
morning.

[Footnote 1: meditation.]

The sun was no sooner stepped from the bed of Aurora, but Aliena was
wakened by Ganymede, who, restless all night, had tossed in her
passions, saying it was then time to go to the field to unfold their
sheep. Aliena, that spied where the hare was by the hounds, and could
see day at a little hole, thought to be pleasant with her Ganymede,
and therefore replied thus:

"What, wanton! the sun is but new up, and as yet Iris' riches lie
folded in the bosom of Flora: Phoebus hath not dried up the pearled
dew, and so long Corydon hath taught me, it is not fit to lead the
sheep abroad, lest, the dew being unwholesome, they get the rot: but
now see I the old proverb true, he is in haste whom the devil drives,
and where love pricks forward, there is no worse death than delay. Ah,
my good page, is there fancy in thine eye, and passions in thy heart?
What, hast thou wrapt love in thy looks, and set all thy thoughts on
fire by affection? I tell thee, it is a flame as hard to be quenched
as that of Aetna. But nature must have her course: women's eyes have
faculty attractive like the jet, and retentive like the diamond: they
dally in the delight of fair objects, till gazing on the panther's
beautiful skin, repenting experience tell them he hath a devouring
paunch."

"Come on," quoth Ganymede, "this sermon of yours is but a subtlety to
lie still a-bed, because either you think the morning cold, or else I
being gone, you would steal a nap: this shift carries no palm, and
therefore up and away. And for Love, let me alone; I'll whip him away
wi