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 stained.
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 mossed 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 wreathed itself,
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approached
The opening of his mouth. But suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlinked 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
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 lived 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 sucked and hungry lioness?
OLIVER.
Twice did he turn his back and purposed 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.
CELIA.
Are you his brother?
ROSALIND.
Was it you he rescued?