Oli.
Good-morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know
Where, in the purlews of this forest, stands
A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive-trees?

Cel.
West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom,
The rank of osiers, 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 should I know you by description,
Such garments, and such years: “the boy is fair,
“Of female favour, and bestows himself
“Like a ripe Sister: but 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 handkerchief 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
* ^noteWithin 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'er-grown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd 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 cat-like 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 eldest brother.

Cel.
O, I have heard him speak of that same brother,
And he did render him the most unnatural
That liv'd '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 suck'd and hungry lioness?

Oli.
Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so:
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battel to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awak'd.

Cel.
Are you his brother?

Ros.
Was it you he rescu'd?

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 bath'd,
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 cry'd, in fainting, upon Rosalind.—
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,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise; and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth,
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

Cel.
Why, how now? Ganymed!—Sweet!—Ganymed! Rosalind faints.

Oli.
Many will swoon, when they do look on blood.

Cel.
There is more in it:—cousin—Ganymed!* ^note

Oli.
Look, he recovers.

Ros.
Would, I were at home!

Cel.
We'll lead you thither.
—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, 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?