He left a promise to return again

Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy9,
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 catlike watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast,

То

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 bro-

ther;

And he did render 10 him the most unnatural

That liv'd 'mongst 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,

9 Fancy, i. e. love, which is always thus described by our old ets as composed of contraries.

Render, i. e. represent or render this account of him. So in

ne:

May drive us to a render where we have lived."

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

Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling 11
From miserable slumber I awak'd.

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?—

By and by.

Oli.
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
The lioness had torn some flesh away,

his arm

Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted, And cry'd, 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,

11 Hurtling, i. e. jostling or clashing, encounter. In Julius Cæsar we have "The noise of battle hurtled in the air."

The word has been explained to push, to clash, to skirmish. Its true etymology has not been clearly ascertained. The old low Latin word ortare, from whence the Italian urtare, and the French heurter are derived, has the best claim. In the old French, hurt, and heurt, signified the action of striking, or justling, skirmishing or combating. But I find in Cotgrave also "hurteller, to trample on with the feet."

Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

I

mede!

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet Gany-
[ROSALIND faints.
Oli. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
Cel. There is more in it :-Cousin !—Ganymede !
Oli. Look, he recovers.

Ros.

I would, I were at home.

Cel. We'll lead you thither :

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. The same.

Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY,

Touchstone.

E 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 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 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 even, Audrey.

Aud. God ye good even, William.
Will. And good even to you, sir.

Touch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, pr'ythee, be covered. 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. wise?

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

Art thou

I do now remember is wise, but the wise The heathen philo

Touch. Why, thou say'st well. a saying; The fool doth think he man knows himself to be a fool. sopher, 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 open1. 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 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 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 standing, diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee slate thy life into death, thy liberty into will deal in poison with thee, or in bas i steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; in thee with policy; I will kill thee a hunifty ways: therefore tremble, and depart. Do, good William.

God rest you merry, sir.

[Exit.

Varburton thinks this a sneer at the insignificant sayings actions recorded of the ancient philosophers by the writers of eir lives,