"
And with that fetching a deep sigh, she rise up, and went to Ganymede,
who all this while sate in a great dump,[1] fearing the imminent
danger of her friend Rosader; but now Aliena began to comfort her,
herself being overgrown with sorrows, and to recall her from her
melancholy with many pleasant persuasions. Ganymede took all in the
best part, and so they went home together after they had folded their
flocks, supping with old Corydon, who had provided their cates. He,
after supper, to pass away the night while[2] bedtime, began a long
discourse, how Montanus, the young shepherd that was in love with
Phoebe, could by no means obtain any favor at her hands, but, still
pained in restless passions, remained a hopeless and perplexed lover.
[Footnote 1: mood of sadness.]
[Footnote 2: until.]
"I would I might," quoth Aliena, "once see that Phoebe. Is she so fair
that she thinks no shepherd worthy of her beauty? or so froward that
no love nor loyalty will content her? or so coy that she requires a
long time to be wooed? or so foolish that she forgets that like a fop
she must have a large harvest for a little corn?"
"I cannot distinguish," quoth Corydon, "of these nice qualities; but
one of these days I'll bring Montanus and her down, that you may both
see their persons, and note their passions; and then where the blame
is, there let it rest.
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