"To that," quoth Phoebe, "I stand; for my love is so far beyond reason, as will admit no persuasion of reason."
"For justice," quoth he, "I appeal to Gerismond."
"And to his censure will I stand," quoth Phoebe.
"And in your victory," quoth Montanus, "stands the hazard of my fortunes; for if Ganymede go away with conquest, Montanus is in conceit love's monarch; if Phoebe win, then am I in effect most miserable."
"We will see this controversy," quoth Gerismond, "and then we will to church. Therefore, Ganymede, let us hear your argument."
"Nay, pardon my absence a while," quoth she, "and you shall see one in store."
In went Ganymede and dressed herself in woman's attire, having on a gown of green, with kirtle of rich sendal,[1] so quaint, that she seemed Diana triumphing in the forest; upon her head she wore a chaplet of roses, which gave her such a grace that she looked like Flora perked in the pride of all her flowers. Thus attired came Rosalynde in, and presented herself at her father's feet, with her eyes full of tears, craving his blessing, and discoursing unto him all her fortunes, how she was banished by Torismond, and how ever since she lived in that country disguised.
[Footnote 1: a thin silk.]
Gerismond, seeing his daughter, rose from his seat and fell upon her neck, uttering the passions of his joy in watery plaints, driven into such an ecstasy of content, that he could not utter one word. At this sight, if Rosader was both amazed and joyful, I refer myself to the judgment of such as have experience in love, seeing his Rosalynde before his face whom so long and deeply he had affected. At last Gerismond recovered his spirits, and in most fatherly terms entertained his daughter Rosalynde, after many questions demanding of her what had passed between her and Rosader?
"So much, sir," quoth she, "as there wants nothing but your grace to make up the marriage."