a jewel, and sent it by a page to the young gentleman.  The prize that Venus gave to Paris was not half so pleasing to the Troyan as this gem was to Rosader; for if fortune had sworn to make him sole monarch of the world, he would rather have refused such dignity, than have lost the jewel sent him by Rosalynde.  To return her with the like he was unfurnished, and yet that he might more than in his looks discover his affection, he stepped into a tent, and taking pen and paper writ this fancy: 

    Two suns at once from one fair heaven there shined,
      Ten branches from two boughs, tipped all with roses,
    Pure locks more golden than is gold refined,
      Two pearled rows that nature’s pride encloses;
    Two mounts fair marble-white, down-soft and dainty,
      A snow-dyed orb, where love increased by pleasure
    Full woeful makes my heart, and body fainty: 
      Her fair (my woe) exceeds all thought and measure. 
    In lines confused my luckless harm appeareth,
    Whom sorrow clouds, whom pleasant smiling cleareth.

This sonnet he sent to Rosalynde, which when she read she blushed, but with a sweet content in that she perceived love had allotted her so amorous a servant.

Leaving her to her new entertained fancies, again to Rosader, who triumphing in the glory of this conquest, accompanied with a troop of young gentlemen that were desirous to be his familiars, went home to his brother Saladyne’s, who was walking before the gates, to hear what success his brother Rosader should have, assuring himself of his death, and devising how with dissimuled sorrow to celebrate his funerals.  As he was in his thought, he cast up his eye, and saw where Rosader returned with the garland on his head, as having won the prize, accompanied with a crew of boon companions.  Grieved at this, he stepped in and shut the gate.  Rosader seeing this, and not looking for such unkind entertainment, blushed at the disgrace, and yet smothering his grief with a smile, he turned to the gentlemen, and desired them to hold his brother excused, for he did not this upon any malicious intent or niggardize, but being brought up in the country, he absented himself as not finding his nature fit for such youthful company.  Thus he sought to shadow abuses proffered him by his brother, but in vain, for he could by no means be suffered to enter:  whereupon he ran his foot against the door, and broke it open, drawing his sword, and entering boldly into the hall, where he found none, for all were fled, but one Adam Spencer, an Englishman, who had been an old and trusty servant to Sir John of Bordeaux.  He for the love he bare to his deceased master, favored the part of Rosader, and gave him and his such entertainment as he could.  Rosader gave him thanks, and looking about, seeing the hall empty, said: 

“Gentlemen, you are welcome; frolic and be merry:  you shall be sure to have wine enough, whatsoever your fare be.  I tell you, cavaliers, my brother hath in his house five tun of wine, and as long as that lasteth, I beshrew him that spares his liquor.”