rd couple in marriage."

She had no sooner spake this word, but Montanus threw away his garland
of willow, his bottle, where was painted despair, and cast his sonnets
in the fire, showing himself as frolic as Paris when he handselled[1]
his love with Helena. At this Gerismond and the rest smiled, and
concluded that Montanus and Phoebe should keep their wedding with the
two brethren. Aliena seeing Saladyne stand in a dump,[2] to wake him
from his dream began thus:

[Footnote 1: began.]

[Footnote 2: revery.]

"Why how now, my Saladyne, all amort?[1] what melancholy, man, at the
day of marriage? Perchance thou art sorrowful to think on thy
brother's high fortunes, and thine own base desires to choose so mean
a shepherdess. Cheer up thy heart, man; for this day thou shalt be
married to the daughter of a king; for know, Saladyne, I am not
Aliena, but Alinda, the daughter of thy mortal enemy Torismond."

[Footnote 1: dead.]

At this all the company was amazed, especially Gerismond, who rising
up, took Alinda in his arms, and said to Rosalynde: "Is this that fair
Alinda famous for so many virtues, that forsook her father's court to
live with thee exiled in the country?"

"The same," quoth Rosalynde.

"Then," quoth Gerismond, turning to Saladyne, "jolly forester be
frolic, for thy fortunes are great, and thy desires excellent; thou
hast got a princess as famous for her perfection, as exceeding in
proportion."

"And she hath with her beauty won," quoth Saladyne, "an humble
servant, as full of faith as she of amiable favor."

While every one was amazed with these comical events, Corydon came
skipping in, and told them that the priest was at church, and tarried
for their coming. With that Gerismond led the way, and the rest
followed; where to the admiration of all the country swains in Arden
their marriages were solemnly solemnized. As soon as the priest had
finished, home they went with Alinda, where Corydon had made all
things in readiness. Dinner was provided, and the tables being spread,
and the brides set down by Gerismond, Rosader, Saladyne, and Montanus
that day were servitors; homely cheer they had, such as their country
could afford, but to mend their fare they had mickle good chat, and
many discourses of their loves and fortunes. About mid-dinner, to make
them merry, Corydon came in with an old crowd,[1] and played them a
fit of mirth, to which he sung this pleasant song:

[Footnote 1: an old-fashioned vi