When thus they had finished their courting eclogue in such a familiar clause, Ganymede, as augur of some good fortunes to light upon their affections, began to be thus pleasant: 

“How now, forester, have I not fitted your turn? have I not played the woman handsomely, and showed myself as coy in grants as courteous in desires, and been as full of suspicion as men of flattery? and yet to salve all, jumped[1] I not all up with the sweet union of love?  Did not Rosalynde content her Rosader?”

[Footnote 1:  ended.]

The forester at this smiling, shook his head, and folding his arms made this merry reply: 

“Truth, gentle swain, Rosader hath his Rosalynde; but as Ixion had Juno, who, thinking to possess a goddess, only embraced a cloud:  in these imaginary fruitions of fancy I resemble the birds that fed themselves with Zeuxis’ painted grapes; but they grew so lean with pecking at shadows, that they were glad, with Aesop’s cock, to scrape for a barley cornel.[1] So fareth it with me, who to feed myself with the hope of my mistress’s favors, sooth myself in thy suits, and only in conceit reap a wished-for content; but if my food be no better than such amorous dreams, Venus at the year’s end shall find me but a lean lover.  Yet do I take these follies for high fortunes, and hope these feigned affections do divine some unfeigned end of ensuing fancies.”

[Footnote 1:  kernel.]

“And thereupon,” quoth Aliena, “I’ll play the priest:  from this day forth Ganymede shall call thee husband, and thou shall call Ganymede wife, and so we’ll have a marriage.”

“Content,” quoth Rosader, and laughed.

“Content,” quoth Ganymede, and changed as red as a rose:  and so with a smile and a blush, they made up this jesting match, that after proved to a marriage in earnest, Rosader full little thinking he had wooed and won his Rosalynde.

But all was well; hope is a sweet string to harp on, and therefore let the forester awhile shape himself to his shadow, and tarry fortune’s leisure, till she may make a metamorphosis fit for his purpose.  I digress; and therefore to Aliena, who said, the wedding was not worth a pin, unless there were some cheer, nor that bargain well made that was not stricken up with a cup of wine:  and therefore she willed Ganymede to set out such cates as they had, and to draw out her bottle, charging the forester, as he had imagined his loves, so to conceit these cates to be a most sumptuous banquet, and to take a mazer[1] of wine and to drink to his Rosalynde; which Rosader did, and so they passed away the day in many pleasant devices.  Till at last Aliena perceived time would tarry no man, and that the sun waxed very low, ready to set, which made her shorten their amorous prattle, and end the banquet with a fresh carouse:  which done, they all three arose, and Aliena broke off thus: 

[Footnote 1:  mug.]