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Ros. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity.-Wilt thou love such a woman?—What, to make thee an instrument, and play false strains upon thee! not to be endured!— Well, go your way to her (for I see, love hath made thee a tame snake), and say this to her :—that if she loves me, I charge her to love thee: if she 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.

Enter OLIVER.

Oli. Good morrow, fair ones.

[Exit SILVIUS.

Pray you, if you know

Where, in the purlieus1 of this forest, stands

A sheepcote fenced about with olive-trees?

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom;

The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream,

Left 2 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 I should know you by description: 3
Such garments, and such years:— The boy is fair,
Of female favour, and bestows himself

Like a ripe sister: 4 but the woman low,

And browner than her brother.-Are not you

The owner of the house I did inquire for?

1 Purlieu] Fr. pur, clear, and lieu, place: originally, free space, or common ground, on the borders of a forest.

2 Left] Being passed.

If that an eye, &c.] If my eye can be taught by Orlando's tongue, then I should know you by the description he has given me. + Bestows himself, &c.] I apprehend the meaning here to be, that by stuffing out his bosom, he gives himself the appearance of a girl of ripe age. So, in 2 King Henry IV. ii. 2, 'See Falstaff bestow himself in his true colours.'

h;

Cel. It is no boast, being asked, 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 handkerchief was stained.

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 befell! he threw his

eye aside,

And, mark, what object did present itself:

Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed 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, approached
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly
Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself,
And with indented1 glides did slip away
Into a bush under which bush's shade

A lioness,2 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.

1 Indented] Crooked; wriggling.

2 A lioness] See p. 53, note 1.

Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother ; And he did render him' the most unnatural

That lived 'mongst 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 sucked 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 2
From miserable slumber I awaked.

Cel. Are you his brother?

Ros.

Was it 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.-3

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 stripped himself, and here

upon

The lioness had torn some flesh away,

Render him] Represent him to be.

his arm

2 Hurtling] Violent stirring.-So in Julius Cæsar, ii. 2, 'The noise of battle hurtled in the air.'

3

• By and by] The old meaning of this expression is immediately.

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.

Brief, I recovered him; bound up his wound;
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,

To tell this story, that you might excuse

His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dyed in this blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

I

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Ganymede !
[ROSALIND faints.
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.

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, sir, 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

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 same.

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.

Enter WILLIAM.

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.

Will. Good even, Audrey.

Aud. Good even, William.

Will. And good even to you, sir.

Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend?

Will. Five and twenty, sir.

Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ?

Will. William, sir.

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