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 battle to the lioness,

Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awak'd.

Cel. Are you his brother?

Ros.

8

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 ?—

By and by.

Oli.
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
The lioness had torn some flesh away,

his arm

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,

And cried, 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 this blood; unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

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.

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?

[Exeunt.

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.

William.

Aud. Good even,
Will. And good even to you, sir.
Touch. Good even, gentle friend.
head; nay, pr’ythee, be covered.

Will. Five and twenty, sir.

Cover thy head, cover thy How old are you, friend?

Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name, William ?

Will. William, sir.

Touch. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here?

Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.

Touch. Thank God;'-a good answer. Art rich?

Will. Faith, sir, so, so.

Touch. '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.

Touch. 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 eat a 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, sir.

Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
Will. No, sir.

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

Will. Which he, sir?

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon-which is in the vulgar leave-the society--which in the boorish is company-of this female-which in the common is woman, which together is, abandon the society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, or in

bastinado, or in steel: I will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore tremble, and depart.

Aud. Do, good William.

Will. Rest you merry, sir.

Enter CORIN.

[Exit.

Cor. Our master and mistress seek you; come, away, away. Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey.—I attend, I attend. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Another part of the Forest.

Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER.

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that, but seeing, you should love her? and, loving, woo? and, wooing, she should grant ? and will you persevere to her?

" wed'

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her, that she loves me; consent with both, that we may 'wed' each other; it shall be to your good; for my father's house, and all the revenue that was old Sir Roland's, will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.

Enter ROSALIND.

Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: thither will I invite the duke and all his contented followers. Go you, and prepare Aliena: for, look you, here comes my Rosalind.

Ros. God save you, brother.

Oli. And you, fair sister.

Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.

Orl. It is my arm.