Or else by him my love deny,

And then I'll study how to die.
Syl. Call you this chiding?
Čel. Alas, poor shepherd !
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 fee, love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to her; that, if she love me, I charge her to love thee: if she will not, I will never have her, unless thou entreat for her.

be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.

[Exit. Syl.

If you

Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know,
Where, in the purlieus of this forest, stands
A sheepcot 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 inquire 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?

Rof. I am ; what must we understand by this?

Oli.

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 two hours; 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, of 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 nip 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 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.

Rof. 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 fo: But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,

a

And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable Number I awak'd.

Cel. Are you his brother?
Rof. 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.

Rof. 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 lionels had torn some Aesh 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 Thepherd 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.
Rof. Would I were at home!
Cel. We'll lead

Vol. II.

you thither.

Gg

I pray

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, fir, 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 earneft.

Rof. Counterfeit, I assure you.
Oli. Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.

Rof. 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 Forest.

Enter Clown, and Audrey.

CLOWN.
E shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey.

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

Clo. A most wicked fir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Mar-text ! 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 the world: here comes the man you mean.

Enter

а.

Enter William.
Clo. 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 ev'n, Audrey.
Aud. God ye good ev'n, William.
Will. And good ev’n to you, fir.

Clo. Good ev’n, gentle friend: cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr’ythee, be cover’d. How old are you, friend? Will

. Five and twenty, sir.
Clo. A ripe age: is thy name William ?
Will. William, fir.
Clo. A fair name. Wast born i'th’ forest here?
Will. Ay, fir, I thank god.
Clo. Thank god : á good answer: art rich ?
Will. 'Faith, fir, so so.
Clo

. So so is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise?

Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
Clo

. Why, thou say'st well: I do now remember a saying;
the fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself
to be a fool. The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to
grape,
would

open his lips when he put it into his mouth; ; meaning thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and lips to open. You do love this maid?

Will. I do, fir.
Clo. Give me your hand: art thou learned ?
Will. No, sir.

Clo. Then learn this of me: to have, is to have. For it is a figure in rhetorick, that drink,being poured out of acup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other : for all your writers do consent, that ipfe is he: now you are not ipse; for I am he.

Will. Which he, sir?

Clo. He, sir, that must marry this woman; therefore, you clown, abandon ; which is in the vulgar, leave the society; which in the

eat a

G g 2