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CELIA. Alas, poor shepherd!
As You Like It 45/57
As You Like It
ROSALIND. 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
see 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.--If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word;
for here comes more company.
[Exit SILVIUS.]
[Enter OLIVER.]
OLIVER. Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A
sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
CELIA. 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.
OLIVER. 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: the woman low, And
browner than her brother.' Are not you The owner of the house I did inquire for?
CELIA. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
OLIVER. Orlando doth commend him to you both; And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this
bloody napkin:--are you he?
ROSALIND. I am: what must we understand by this?
OLIVER. 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.
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?
As You Like It 46/57
As You Like It
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.
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