ink but the fame of his honors hath
reached farther than the knowledge of his personage. The infortunate
son of so fortunate a knight am I; my name, Saladyne; who succeeding
my father in possessions, but not in qualities, having two brethren
committed by my father at his death to my charge, with such golden
principles of brotherly concord, as might have pierced like the
Sirens' melody into any human ear. But I, with Ulysses, became deaf
against his philosophical harmony, and made more value of profit than
of virtue, esteeming gold sufficient honor, and wealth the fittest
title for a gentleman's dignity. I set my middle brother to the
university to be a scholar, counting it enough if he might pore on a
book while I fed upon his revenues; and for the youngest, which was my
father's joy, young Rosader"--And with that, naming of Rosader,
Saladyne sate him down and wept.

"Nay, forward man," quoth the forester, "tears are the unfittest salve
that any man can apply for to cure sorrows, and therefore cease from
such feminine follies, as should drop out of a woman's eye to deceive,
not out of a gentleman's look to discover his thoughts, and forward
with thy discourse."

"O sir," quoth Saladyne, "this Rosader that wrings tears from mine
eyes, and blood from my heart, was like my father in exterior
personage and in inward qualities; for in the prime of his years he
aimed all his acts at honor, and coveted rather to die than to brook
any injury unworthy a gentleman's credit. I, whom envy had made blind,
and covetousness masked with the veil of self-love, seeing the palm
tree grow straight, thought to suppress it being a twig; but nature
will have her course, the cedar will be tall, the diamond bright, the
carbuncle glistering, and virtue will shine though it be never so much
obscured. For I kept Rosader as a slave, and used him as one of my
servile hinds, until age grew on, and a secret insight of my abuse
entered into his mind; insomuch, that he could not brook it, but
coveted to have what his father left him, and to live of himself. To
be short, sir, I repined at his fortunes, and he counterchecked me,
not with ability but valor, until at last, by my friends and aid of
such as followed gold more than right or virtue, I banished him from
Bordeaux, and he, poor gentleman, lives no man knows where, in some
distressed discontent. The gods, not able to suffer such impiety
unrevenged, so wrought, that the king picked a causeless qua