Or else by him my love deny,

And then I'll study how to die.

Syl. Call you this chiding?
Cel. Alas, poor shepherd!

Rof. Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity: wilt thou love fuch a woman? what, to make thee an inftrument, 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 fnake, and fay 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. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit. Syl..

SCENE VI.

Enter Oliver.

Oli. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, Where, in the purlieus of this forest, ftands

A fheepcot fenc'd about with olive-trees?

Cel. Weft of this place down in the neighbour bottom,
The rank of ofiers, 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 fuch years: the boy is fair,
Of female favour, and bestows himself
Like a ripe fifter: 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 Rofalind
He fends this bloody napkin: are you he?
Rof. 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 ftain'd.

Cel. I pray you, tell it.

Oli. When laft 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 afide,
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 fleeping 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 fuddenly,

Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,

And with indented glides did flip away
Into a bush; under which bufh's fhade

A lionefs, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch,
When that the fleeping man should stir; for 'tis

The royal difpofition of that beaft,

To prey on nothing that doth feem as dead:

This feen, Orlando did approach the man,

And found it was his brother, his elder brother.

Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that fame brother;

And he did render him the most unnatural

That liv'd 'mongst men.

Oli. And well he might fo do;

For well I know he was unnatural.

Rof. But, to Orlando; did he leave him there

Food to the fuck'd and hungry lioness?

Oli. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd fo: But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,

And

And nature, stronger than his just occafion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,

Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling

From miferable flumber 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 fhame

To tell what I was, you

fince my converfion

So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.

Rof. But, for the bloody napkin?

Oli. By and by.

When from the firft to laft, betwixt us two,

Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd,
As how I came into that defert 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 inftantly unto his cave,

There ftripp'd himself, and here upon his arm

The lionefs had torn fome flesh away,

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

And cry'd, in fainting, upon Rofalind.

Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound,

And, after fome small space, being strong at heart,

He sent me hither, ftranger as I am,

To tell this ftory, that you might excufe

His broken promife, and to give this napkin,

Dy'd in his blood, unto the fhepherd youth

That he in fport doth call his Rofalind.

Cel. Why, how now, Ganimed, sweet Ganimed? [Ros. faints. Oli. Many will fwoon when they do look on blood.

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

Oli. Look, he recovers.

Rof. Would I were at home!

Cel. We'll lead you thither.

VOL. II.

I pray

G g

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.

Rof. I do fo, 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 teftimony in your complexion that it was a paffion of earnest.

Rof. Counterfeit, I affure 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 fir, go with us.

Oli. That will I; for I must bear anfwer back

How you excufe my brother, Rofalind.

Rof. I fhall devife something; but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him: will you go?

[Exeunt.

WE

ACT V. SCENE I.

The Foreft.

Enter Clown, and Audrey.

CLOWN.

E fhall 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 intereft in the world: here comes the man you mean.

Enter

Enter William.

Clo. It is meat and drink to me to fee 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, fir.

Clo. A ripe age: is thy name William?

Will. William, fir.

Clo. A fair name. Waft born i'th' forest here?

Will. Ay, fir, I thank god.

Clo. Thank god: a good answer: art rich?

Will. 'Faith, fir, fo fo.

Clo. So fo is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but fo fo. Art thou wife?

Will. Ay, fir, I have a pretty wit.

Clo. Why, thou fay'ft well: I do now remember a faying; the fool doth think he is wife, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. The heathen philosopher, when he had a defire 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. No, fir.

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

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

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boorish