Like a ripe sister. The woman low
And browner than her brother.’ Are not you
The owner of the house I did enquire for?
CELIA
It is no boast, being asked, to say we are.
OLIVER
Orlando doth commend him to you both,
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?
ROSALIND
I am. What must we understand by this?
OLIVER
Some of my shame, if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where
This handkerchief was stained.
CELIA I pray you tell it.
OLIVER
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 old 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 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.
CELIA
O, I have heard him speak of that same brother,
And he did render him the most unnatural
That lived amongst men.
OLIVER And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
ROSALIND
But to Orlando. Did he leave him there,
Food to the sucked and hungry lioness?
OLIVER
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.
CELIA
Are you his brother?
ROSALIND
Was’t you he rescued?
CELIA
Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
OLIVER
‘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.
ROSALIND
But for the bloody napkin?
OLIVER 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—
I’ 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 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.
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 his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
Rosalind faints
CELIA
Why, how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede!
OLIVER
Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
CELIA
There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!
OLIVER Look, he recovers.
ROSALIND I would I were at home.
CELIA We’ll lead you thither.
(To Oliver) I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
OLIVER Be of good cheer, youth. You a man? You lack a man’s heart.
ROSALIND 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!
OLIVER This was not counterfeit. There is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.
ROSALIND Counterfeit, I assure you.
OLIVER Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.
ROSALIND So I do; but, i’faith, I should have been a woman by right.
CELIA Come, you look paler and paler. Pray you, draw homewards. Good sir, go with us.
OLIVER
That will I, for I must bear answer back
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
ROSALIND I shall devise something. But I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?
Exeunt
5.1 Enter Touchstone the clown and Audrey
TOUCHSTONE We shall find a time, Audrey. Patience, gentle Audrey.
AUDREY Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman’s saying.
TOUCHSTONE A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you.
AUDREY Ay, I know who ’tis. He hath no interest in me in the world. Here comes the man you mean.
Enter William
TOUCHSTONE 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.
WILLIAM Good ev’n, Audrey.
AUDREY God ye good ev’n, William.
WILLIAM (to Touchstone) And good ev’n to you, sir.
TOUCHSTONE Good ev’n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head. Nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend?
WILLIAM Five-and-twenty, sir.
TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William?
WILLIAM William, sir.
TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Wast born i’th’ forest here?
WILLIAM Ay, sir, I thank God.
TOUCHSTONE Thank God—a good answer. Art rich?
WILLIAM Faith, sir, so-so.