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 it self,
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
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 it self
&plquo;Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
&plquo;And high top bald, of dry antiquity;
&plquo;A wretched ragged man, o'er-grown with hair,
&plquo;Lay sleeping on his back; about his neck
&plquo;A green and gilded snake had wreath'd it self,
&plquo;Who with her head, nimble in threats approach'd
&plquo;The opening of his mouth; but suddenly
&plquo;Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd it self,
&plquo;And with indented glides did slip away
&plquo;Into a bush, under which bush's shade
&plquo;A Lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
&plquo;Lay couching head on ground, with cat-like watch
&plquo;When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
&plquo;The royal disposition of that beast
&plquo;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.

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 † ^notehurtling
From miserable slumber I awak'd.

Cel.
Are you his brother?

Ros.
Was't 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 desart 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 strip'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 Ganimed, sweet Ganimed? Ros. faints.

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

Cel.
There is no more in't: cousin Ganimed!

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?

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