ROSALIND
[Reads.] Why, thy godhead laid apart,
Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart?
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Did you ever hear such railing?
Whiles the eye of man did woo me,
That could do no vengeance to me.
Meaning me a beast.
If the scorn of your bright eyne
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Have power to raise such love in mine,
Alack, in me, what strange effect
Would they work in mild aspect?
Whiles you chid me, I did love;
How then might your prayers move?
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He that brings this love to thee
Little knows this love in me;
And by him seal up thy mind,
Whether that thy youth and kind
Will the faithful offer take
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Of me and all that I can make,
Or else by him my love deny,
And then I’ll study how to die.
SILVIUS Call you this chiding?
CELIA Alas poor shepherd!
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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
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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,
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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.
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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,
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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 enquire for?
CELIA It is no boast, being ask’d, to say we are.
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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
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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,
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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,
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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
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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 catlike watch
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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.
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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,
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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,
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Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awak’d.
CELIA Are you his brother?
ROSALIND Was’t you he rescu’d?
CELIA Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
OLIVER ’Twas I. But ’tis not I. I do not shame
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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 –
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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,
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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,
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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
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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.
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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.
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ROSALIND 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!
OLIVER This was not counterfeit, there is too great
testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of
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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
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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.
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ROSALIND I shall devise something. But I pray you
commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?
Exeunt.
5.1 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
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vile Martext. But Audrey, there is a youth here in the
forest lays claim to you.
AUDREY Ay, I know who ’tis. He hath no interest in me
in the world. Here comes the man you mean.
Enter WILLIAM.
TOUCHSTONE It is meat and drink to me to see a clown.
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By my troth, we that have good wits have much to
answer for: we shall be flouting: we cannot hold.
WILLIAM Good ev’n Audrey.
AUDREY God ye good ev’n William.
WILLIAM And good ev’n to you sir.
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TOUCHSTONE Good ev’n gentle friend. Cover thy head,
cover thy head. Nay prithee be covered. How old are
you friend?
WILLIAM Five and twenty sir.
TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William?
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WILLIAM William, sir.
TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Was’t born i’th’ forest here?
WILLIAM Ay sir, I thank God.
TOUCHSTONE ‘Thank God.’ A good answer. Art rich?
WILLIAM Faith sir, so so.
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TOUCHSTONE ‘So so’ is good, very good, very excellent
good. And yet it is not, it is but so so. Art thou wise?
WILLIAM Ay sir, I have a pretty wit.
TOUCHSTONE Why, thou sayest well. I do now
remember a saying: ‘The fool doth think he is wise,
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but the wiseman knows himself to be a fool’. The
heathen philosopher, when he had a desire 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?
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WILLIAM I do sir.
TOUCHSTONE Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
WILLIAM No sir.
TOUCHSTONE Then learn this of me. To have is to have:
for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured
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out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty
the other. For all your writers do consent that ipse is
he. Now you are not ipse, for I am he.
WILLIAM Which he sir?
TOUCHSTONE He sir that must marry this woman.
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Therefore you clown, abandon – which is in the
vulgar leave – the society – which in the boorish is
company – of this female – which in the common is
woman. Which together is, abandon the society of this
female, or clown thou perishest; or to thy better
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understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee
away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into
bondage. I will deal in poison with thee, or in
bastinado, or in steel. I will bandy with thee in
faction; I will o’er-run thee with policy; I will kill
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thee a hundred and fifty ways. Therefore tremble
and depart.
AUDREY Do, good William.
WILLIAM God rest you merry, sir. Exit.
Enter CORIN.
CORIN Our master and mistress seeks you. Come away,
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away.
TOUCHSTONE Trip Audrey, trip Audrey. I attend, I
attend. Exeunt.
5.2 Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER.
ORLANDO Is’t possible, that on so little acquaintance
you should like her? That but seeing, you should love
her? And loving woo? And wooing, she should grant?
And will you persever to enjoy her?
OLIVER Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the
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poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden
wooing, nor her sudden consenting. But say with
me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me;
consent with both, that we may enjoy each other. It
shall be to your good; for my father’s house and all the
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works Page 73