joy, then with smiles;
as if in one person love had lodged a Chaos of confused passions.
Wherein I have noted the variable disposition of fancy, that like the
polype in colors, so it changeth into sundry humors, being, as it
should seem, a combat mixed with disquiet and a bitter pleasure
wrapped in a sweet prejudice, like to the Sinople tree, whose blossoms
delight the smell, and whose fruit infects the taste."

"By my faith," quoth Aliena, "sir, you are deep read in love, or grows
your insight into affection by experience? Howsoever, you are a great
philosopher in Venus' principles, else could you not discover her
secret aphorisms. But, sir, our country amours are not like your
courtly fancies, nor is our wooing like your suing; for poor shepherds
never plain them till love pain them, where the courtier's eyes is
full of passions, when his heart is most free from affection; they
court to discover their eloquence, we woo to ease our sorrows; every
fair face with them must have a new fancy sealed with a forefinger
kiss and a far-fetched sigh, we here love one and live to that one so
long as life can maintain love, using few ceremonies because we know
few subtleties, and little eloquence for that we lightly account of
flattery; only faith and troth, that's shepherd's wooing; and, sir,
how like you of this?"

"So," quoth Saladyne, "as I could tie myself to such love."

"What, and look so low as a shepherdess, being the son of Sir John of
Bordeaux? Such desires were a disgrace to your honors." And with that
surveying exquisitely every part of him, as uttering all these words
in a deep passion, she espied the paper in his bosom; whereupon
growing jealous that it was some amorous sonnet, she suddenly snatched
it out of his bosom and asked if it were any secret. She was bashful,
and Saladyne blushed, which she perceiving, said:

"Nay then, sir, if you wax red, my life for yours 'tis some
love-matter: I will see your mistress' name, her praises, and your
passions." And with that she looked on it, which was written to this
effect:

_Saladyne's Sonnet_

If it be true that heaven's eternal course
With restless sway and ceaseless turning glides;
If air inconstant be, and swelling source
Turn and returns with many fluent tides;
If earth in winter summer's pride estrange,
And nature seemeth only fair in change;

If it be true that our immortal spright,
Derived from heavenly pure, in wan