ROSALYNDE
O Rosalynde, thou must be pitiful,
For Rosader is young and beautiful.
ROSADER
Oh, gain more great than kingdoms or a crown!
ROSALYNDE
Oh, trust betrayed if Rosader abuse me.
ROSADER
First let the heavens conspire to pull me down
And heaven and earth as abject quite refuse me.
Let sorrows stream about my hateful bower,
And restless horror hatch within my breast:
Let beauty's eye afflict me with a lour,
Let deep despair pursue me without rest,
Ere Rosalynde my loyalty disprove,
Ere Rosalynde accuse me for unkind.
ROSALYNDE
Then Rosalynde will grace thee with her love
Then Rosalynde will have thee still in mind.
ROSADER
Then let me triumph more than Tithon's dear,
Since Rosalynde will Rosader respect:
Then let my face exile his sorry cheer,
And frolic in the comfort of affect;
And say that Rosalynde is only pitiful,
Since Rosalynde is only beautiful.
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.
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