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 ;(20) 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 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, Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside, And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 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 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis The royal disposition of that beast, Το prey on nothing that doth seem as dead; (22) 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 unnaturala 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," Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling 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, And he did render him—] i. e. represent, account. b just occasion] i. e. such reasonable ground, as might have amply justified, or given just occasion for abandoning him. See Rosal. IV. 1. e hurtling] i. e. clashing conflict. See "The noise of battle hurtled in the air." Jul. C. II. 2. Calph. d Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd, As, how-] i. e. with a train of circumstances, " As how." Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment, There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm 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, To tell this story, that you might excuse CEL. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany[ROSALIND faints. mede ? OLI. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. CEL. There is more in it:-Cousin - Ganymede! (23) OLI. Look, he recovers. Ros. I would, I were at home. thither: CEL. We'll lead you OLI. Be of good cheer, youth :-You a man ?— You lack a man's heart. Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirra, 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. a Ah, sirra, a body would think this was well counterfeited] Yet, scarce more than half in possession of herself, in her flutter and tremulous articulation, she adds to one word the first letter, or article, of the succeeding one. For this, the reading of the folios, the modern editors give sir. 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. 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 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 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. AUD. God ye good even, William. WILL. And good even to you, sir. TOUCH. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. How old are you, friend? WILL. Five and twenty, sir. TOUCH. A ripe age: Is thy name, William ? |