Gerismond, desirous to prosecute the end of these passions, called in Ganymede, who, knowing the case, came in graced with such a blush, as beautified the crystal of his face with a ruddy brightness.  The king noting well the physnomy of Ganymede, began by his favors to call to mind the face of his Rosalynde, and with that fetched a deep sigh.  Rosader, that was passing familiar with Gerismond, demanded of him why he sighed so sore.

“Because Rosader,” quoth he, “the favor of Ganymede puts me in mind of Rosalynde.”

At this word Rosader sighed so deeply, as though his heart would have burst.

“And what’s the matter,” quoth Gerismond, “that you quite me with such a sigh?”

“Pardon me, sir,” quoth Rosader, “because I love none but Rosalynde.”

“And upon that condition,” quoth Gerismond, “that Rosalynde were here, I would this day make up a marriage betwixt her and thee.”

At this Aliena turned her head and smiled upon Ganymede, and she could scarce keep countenance.  Yet she salved all with secrecy; and Gerismond, to drive away his dumps, questioned with Ganymede, what the reason was he regarded not Phoebe’s love, seeing she was as fair as the wanton that brought Troy to ruin.  Ganymede mildly answered: 

“If I should affect the fair Phoebe, I should offer poor Montanus great wrong to win that from him in a moment, that he hath labored for so many months.  Yet have I promised to the beautiful shepherdess to wed myself never to woman except unto her; but with this promise, that if I can by reason suppress Phoebe’s love towards me, she shall like of none but of Montanus.”

“To that,” quoth Phoebe, “I stand; for my love is so far beyond reason, as will admit no persuasion of reason.”

“For justice,” quoth he, “I appeal to Gerismond.”

“And to his censure will I stand,” quoth Phoebe.

“And in your victory,” quoth Montanus, “stands the hazard of my fortunes; for if Ganymede go away with conquest, Montanus is in conceit love’s monarch; if Phoebe win, then am I in effect most miserable.”

“We will see this controversy,” quoth Gerismond, “and then we will to church.  Therefore, Ganymede, let us hear your argument.”

“Nay, pardon my absence a while,” quoth she, “and you shall see one in store.”

In went Ganymede and dressed herself in woman’s attire, having on a gown of green, with kirtle of rich sendal,[1] so quaint, that she seemed Diana triumphing in the forest; upon her head she wore a chaplet of roses, which gave her such a grace that she looked like Flora perked in the pride of all her flowers.  Thus attired came Rosalynde in, and presented herself at her father’s feet, with her eyes full of tears, craving his blessing, and discoursing unto him all her fortunes, how she was banished by Torismond, and how ever since she lived in that country disguised.

[Footnote 1:  a thin silk.]