William Shakespeare : Complete Collection (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry...). William Shakespeare

we are.

       Oli.

      Orlando doth commend him to you both,

      And to that youth he calls his Rosalind

      He sends this bloody napkin. 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

      This handkercher was stain’d.

       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,

      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 old 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.

       Cel.

      O, I have heard him speak of that same brother,

      And he did render him the most unnatural

      That liv’d amongst 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,

      Made him give battle to the lioness,

      Who quickly fell before him, in which hurtling

      From miserable slumber I awaked.

       Cel.

      Are you his brother?

       Ros.

      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 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

      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.]

       Cel.

      Why, how now, Ganymed, sweet Ganymed?

       Oli.

      Many will swoon when they do look on blood.

       Cel.

      There is more in it. Cousin Ganymed!

       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, sirrah, 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.