Like a ripe sister: the woman low
And browner than her brother.' Are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?

Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?

Ros. I am what must we understand by this?
Oli. Some of my shame; if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkercher was stain'd.

Cel.

I pray you, tell it.

Oli. When last the young Orlando parted from you He left a promise to return again

Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,

Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside,

And mark what object did present itself:

Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age
And high top bald with dry antiquity,

A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck

A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,
Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush's shade

A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast

To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead :

This seen, Orlando did approach the man

And found it was his brother, his elder brother.

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110

Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; 120

And he did render him the most unnatural

That lived amongst men.

Oli.

And well he might so do,

For well I know he was unnatural.

Ros. But, to Orlando : did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?

Oli. Twice did he turn his back and purposed so;

But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,

And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,

Who quickly fell before him : in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awaked.

Cel. Are you his brother?

Ros.

Was 't you he rescued?

Cel. Was 't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
Oli. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I: I do not shame

To tell

you what I was, since my conversion

So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.

Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ?
Oli.

By and by.

When from the first to last betwixt us two
Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed,
As how I came into that desert place :-
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,

There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted

And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.

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140

Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound;

And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,

150

To tell this story, that you might excuse

His broken promise, and to give this napkin

Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

[Rosalind swoons.

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Ganymede !
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
Cel. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!

Oli. Look, he recovers.

Ros. I would I were at home.

Cel.

We'll lead you thither. 160

I pray you, will you take him by the arm?

Oli. Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a man's heart.

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!

Oli. This was not counterfeit there is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

Oli. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a 171

man.

Ros. So I do: but, i'faith, I should have been a woman by right.

Cel. Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw homewards. Good sir, go with us.

Oli. That will I, for I must bear answer back

How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.

Ros. I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The forest.

Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.

Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle

Audrey.

Aud. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying.

Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.

Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis ; he hath no interest in me in the world here comes the man you mean.

9

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: by my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold.

Enter WILLIAM.

Will. Good even, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good even, William. Will. And good even to you, sir. Touch. Good even, gentle friend. thy head; nay, prithee, be covered. friend?

Will. Five and twenty, sir.

Cover thy head, cover
How old are you,

Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ?

Will. William, sir.

Touch. A fair name.

20

Wast born i' the forest here?

Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Touch. 'Thank God ;' a good answer. Art rich?

Will. Faith, sir, so so.

Touch. 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?

Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.

Touch. Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a saying, 'The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid? Will. I do, sir.

Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned?

34

Will. No, sir.

Touch. Then learn this of me to have, is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; for all your writers do consent that ipse is he: now, you are not ipse, for I am he.

Will. Which he, sir?

42

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon,-which is in the vulgar leave, the society, which in the boorish is company,-of this female,— which in the common is woman; which together is, abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble, and depart. Aud. Do, good William.

Will. God rest you merry, sir.

Enter CORIN.

54

[Exit.

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come, away,

away!

Touch. Trip, Audrey ! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend.

SCENE II. The forest.

Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER.

[Exeunt.

Orl. Is 't possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo? and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy her?

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the