With that casting up his hand he felt hair on his face, and perceiving his beard to bud, for choler he began to blush, and swore to himself he would be no more subject to such slavery.  As thus he was ruminating of his melancholy passions, in came Saladyne with his men, and seeing his brother in a brown study, and to forget his wonted reverence, thought to shake him out of his dumps[1] thus: 

[Footnote 1:  revery.]

“Sirrah,” quoth he, “what is your heart on your halfpenny,[1] or are you saying a dirge for your father’s soul?  What, is my dinner ready?”

[Footnote 1:  “You have a particular object in view.”—­Greg.]

At this question Rosader, turning his head askance, and bending his brows as if anger there had ploughed the furrows of her wrath, with his eyes full of fire, he made this reply: 

“Dost thou ask me, Saladyne, for thy cates?[1] ask some of thy churls who are fit for such an office:  I am thine equal by nature, though not by birth, and though thou hast more cards in the bunch,[2] I have as many trumps in my hands as thyself.  Let me question with thee, why thou hast felled my woods, spoiled my manor houses, and made havoc of such utensils as my father bequeathed unto me?  I tell thee, Saladyne, either answer me as a brother, or I will trouble thee as an enemy.”

[Footnote 1:  food.]

[Footnote 2:  pack.]

At this reply of Rosader’s Saladyne smiled as laughing at his presumption, and frowned as checking his folly:  he therefore took him up thus shortly: 

“What, sirrah! well I see early pricks the tree that will prove a thorn:  hath my familiar conversing with you made you coy,[1] or my good looks drawn you to be thus contemptuous?  I can quickly remedy such a fault, and I will bend the tree while it is a wand.  In faith, sir boy, I have a snaffle for such a headstrong colt.  You, sirs, lay hold on him and bind him, and then I will give him a cooling card for his choler.”

[Footnote 1:  conceited.]

This made Rosader half mad, that stepping to a great rake that stood in the garden, he laid such load upon[1] his brother’s men that he hurt some of them, and made the rest of them run away.  Saladyne, seeing Rosader so resolute and with his resolution so valiant, thought his heels his best safety, and took him to a loft adjoining to the garden, whither Rosader pursued him hotly.  Saladyne, afraid of his brother’s fury, cried out to him thus: 

[Footnote 1:  beat.]

“Rosader, be not so rash:  I am thy brother and thine elder, and if I have done thee wrong I’ll make thee amends:  revenge not anger in blood, for so shalt thou stain the virtue of old Sir John of Bordeaux:  say wherein thou art discontent and thou shalt be satisfied.  Brothers’ frowns ought not to be periods of wrath:  what, man, look not so sourly; I know we shall be friends, and better friends than we have been, for, Amantium ira amoris redintegratio est.”