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. I shall devise something; but I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?
Exeunt.
¶
ACT V
Scene I
Enter Clown [Touchstone] and Audrey.
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 Martext. 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 ev’n, Audrey.
Aud. God ye good ev’n, William.
Will. And good ev’n to you, sir.
Touch. Good ev’n, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee be cover’d. How old are you, friend?
Will. Five and twenty, sir.
Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William?
Will. William, sir.
Touch. A fair name. Wast born i’ the forest here?
Will. Ay, sir, I thank God.
Touch. “Thank God‘—a good answer. Art rich?
Will. Faith, sir, so, so.
Touch. “So, so” is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not, it is but so, so. Art thou wise?
Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.
Touch. Why, thou say’st well. I do now remember a saying, “The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man 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?
Will. I do, [sir].
Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned?
Will. No, sir.
Touch. Then learn this of me: to have, is to have. For it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being pour’d 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.
Will. Which he, sir?
Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. 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 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’errun thee with [policy]; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble and depart.
Aud.
