an infrument, and play falfe ftrains upon thee? not to be endured! well, go your way to her, (for I fee, love hath made thee a tame fnake), and fay this to her, that if the love me, I charge her to love thee if the will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit Sil.

Enter OLIVER.

Oli. Good-morrow, fair ones: Pray you, if

know,

Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A fheep-cote fenced about with olive-trees?

you

Cel. Weft of this place, down in the neighbour bottom,

The rank of ofiers, by the murmuring stream,
Left on your right-hand, brings you to the place;
But at this hour the house doth keep itself,
There's none within.

Oli. If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then fhould I know you by description, Such garments, and fuch years: "The boy is fair, "Of female favour, and beftows himself "Like a ripe fifter: but the woman low,

And browner than her brother." Are not you The owner of the houfe I did enquire for? Cel. It is no boast, being asked, to fay we are. Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both, And to that youth he calls his Rofalind, He fends his bloody napkin. Are you he?

Rof. I am; what must we understand by this? Oli. Some of my fhame, if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkerchief was ftained.

Cel. I pray you tell it.

Oli. When laft the young Orlando parted from

you,

He left a promise to return again

Within an hour; and pacing through the foreft,
Chewing the food of fweet and bitter fancy,...
Lo, what befel! he threw his eye afide,...
And mark what object did present itself.
Under an oak, whofe boughs were mofs'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity,

A wretched ragged man, o'er-grown with hair,
Lay fleeping on his back; about his neck
A green and gilded fake had wreathed itself,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approached
The opening of his mouth, but fuddenly
Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself,
And with indented glides did flip away
Into a bush, under which bufh's fhade
A lionefs, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching head on ground, with cat-like watch,
When that the fleeping man fhould ftir; for 'tis
The royal difpofition of that beaft

To prey on nothing that doth feem as dead:
This feen, Orlando did approach the man,

And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
Cel. O, I have heard him fpeak of that fame
brother,

And he did render him the moft unnatural

That lived 'mongst men.

Oli. And well he might fo do;

For, well I know, he was unnatural.

Ref. But to Orlando; did he leave him there,
Food to the fucked and hungry lionefs?

Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purposed for
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature ftronger than his just occafion,
Made him give battle to the lionefs,

Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling From miferable flumber I awaked.

Cel. Are you his brother?

Rof. Was't you he rescued?

Cel. Was't you that did fo cft contrive to kill him?

Oli. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I; I do not shame
To tell you what I was, fince my converfion
So fweetly taftes, being the thing I am.
Rof. But for the bloody napkin ?

Oli. By and by.

When from the first to laft, betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed,.
As how I came into that defart place;
In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gave me freth array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me inftantly unto his cave,

There ftripped himself, and here upon his arm
The lionefs had torn fome flesh away,

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,

And cry'd in fainting upon Rofalind.

Brief, I recovered him; bound up his wound;
And after fome fmall fpace, being strong at heart,
He fent me hither, ftranger as I am,

To tell this ftory, that you might excufe
His broken promife; and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the fhepherd youth,
That he in fport doth call his Rosalind.

Cel. Why, how now Ganymed, fweet Ganymed? [Rof. faints. Oli. Many will fwoon when they do look on

blood.

Cel. There is more in it:-cousin Ganymed!
Oli. Look, he recovers.

Rof. Would I were at home!

Gel. We'll lead you thither.

I pray yoù, will you take him by the arm?
Oli. Be of good cheer, youth; you a man?)
lack a man's heart.

you

Rof. I do fo, I confefs it. Ah, Sir, a body would think this was well counterfeited. I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-hol

Oli. This was not counterfeit, there is too great teftimony in your complexion that it was a paffion of earnest.

Rof. Counterfeit, I affure you.

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

.

Rof. So I do but, i' faith, I fhould 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 mult bear answer back, How you. excufe my brother, Rofalind.

Rof. I fhall devife fomething; but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? [Exeunt,

A CT V.

SCENE, the Foreft.

Enter Clown and AUDREY

CLOWN.

E fhall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle
Audrey.

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

Clo. A moit wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey; a moft

vile Mar-text! but, Audrey, there is a youth here in the foreft 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. Enter WILLIAM.

Clo. It is meat and drink to me to fee a clown; by my troth, we, that have good wits, have much to answer for: we fhall be flouting; we cannot hold. Will. Good ev'n, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good ev'n, William.
Will. And good ev'n to you, Sir.

Cla. Good ev'n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend?

Will. Five and twenty, Sir.

Clo. A ripe age. Is thy name William ?

Will. William, Sir.

Clo. A fair name.

Waft born i' the forest here!

Will. Ay, Sir, I thank God.

Clo. Thank God? A good anfwer. Art rich? Will. 'Faith, Sir, fo, fo.

Clo. So fo, is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but fo, fo. Art thou wife?

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

Clo. Why, thou fayeft well: I do now remember a faying; the fool doth think he is wife, but the wife man knows himself to be a fool. (25) The

We

(25) The heathen phil fopher, when he had a defign to eat a grape,] This is certainly defigned a a fneer on the feveral trifling, infignificant actions and fayings recorded in the lives of the philofophers, as things of great moment. need only reflect upon what we meet with in Diogenes La ertius, to be of this opinion: efpecially when we observe that it is introduced by one of their wife fayings that precodes it. Mr Warburto