All this while did poor Saladyne, banished from Bordeaux and the court of France by Torismond, wander up and down in the forest of Arden, thinking to get to Lyons, and so travel through Germany into Italy:  but the forest being full of by-paths, and he unskilful of the country coast, slipped out of the way, and chanced up into the desert, not far from the place where Gerismond was, and his brother Rosader.  Saladyne, weary with wandering up and down and hungry with long fasting, finding a little cave by the side of a thicket, eating such fruit as the forest did afford and contenting himself with such drink as nature had provided and thirst made delicate, after his repast he fell in a dead sleep.  As thus he lay, a hungry lion came hunting down the edge of the grove for prey, and espying Saladyne began to seize upon him:  but seeing he lay still without any motion, he left to touch him, for that lions hate to prey on dead carcases; and yet desirous to have some food, the lion lay down and watched to see if he would stir.  While thus Saladyne slept secure, fortune that was careful of her champion began to smile, and brought it so to pass, that Rosader, having stricken a deer that but lightly hurt fled through the thicket, came pacing down by the grove with a boar-spear in his hand in great haste.  He spied where a man lay asleep, and a lion fast by him:  amazed at this sight, as he stood gazing, his nose on the sudden bled, which made him conjecture it was some friend of his.  Whereupon drawing more nigh, he might easily discern his visage, perceived by his physnomy that it was his brother Saladyne, which drave Rosader into a deep passion, as a man perplexed at the sight of so unexpected a chance, marvelling what should drive his brother to traverse those secret deserts, without any company, in such distress and forlorn sort.  But the present time craved no such doubting ambages,[1] for either he must resolve to hazard his life for his relief, or else steal away, and leave him to the cruelty of the lion.  In which doubt he thus briefly debated with himself: 

[Footnote 1:  windings.]

ROSADER’S MEDITATION

“Now, Rosader, fortune that long hath whipped thee with nettles, means to salve thee with roses, and having crossed thee with many frowns, now she presents thee with the brightness of her favors.  Thou that didst count thyself the most distressed of all men, mayest account thyself the most fortunate amongst men, if Fortune can make men happy, or sweet revenge be wrapped in a pleasing content.  Thou seest Saladyne thine enemy, the worker of thy misfortunes, and the efficient cause of thine exile, subject to the cruelty of a merciless lion, brought into this misery by the gods, that they might seem just in revenging his rigor, and thy injuries.  Seest thou not how the stars are in a favorable aspect, the planets in some pleasing conjunction, the fates agreeable to thy thoughts, and the destinies performers of thy