What man I am, and how, and why, and where,
This handkerchief was stain’d.
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 oak, whose boughs were moss’d 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 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 elder brother.
CELIA
O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
And he did render him the most unnatural
That liv’d 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 suck’d and hungry lioness?
OLIVER
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.
CELIA
Are you his brother?
ROSALIND
Was it 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 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 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 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:—
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, sir, 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.]
ACT V
SCENE I. The Forest of Arden
[Enter TOUCHSTONE 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