[Footnote 1: mug.]
Thus attired came Montanus in, with his face as full of grief as his
heart was of sorrows, showing in his countenance the map of
extremities. As soon as the shepherds saw him, they did him all the
honor they could, as being the flower of all the swains in Arden; for
a bonnier boy was there not seen since that wanton wag of Troy that
kept sheep in Ida. He, seeing the king, and guessing it to be
Gerismond, did him all the reverence his country courtesy could
afford; insomuch that the king, wondering at his attire, began to
question what he was. Montanus overhearing him, made this reply:
"I am, sir," quoth he, "Love's swain, as full of inward discontents as
I seem fraught with outward follies. Mine eyes like bees delight in
sweet flowers, but sucking their full on the fair of beauty, they
carry home to the hive of my heart far more gall than honey, and for
one drop of pure dew, a ton full of deadly Aconiton. I hunt with the
fly to pursue the eagle, that flying too nigh the sun, I perish with
the sun; my thoughts are above my reach, and my desires more than my
fortunes, yet neither greater than my loves.
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