As You Like It, Act 4, Scene 3

Rosalind

How say you now? Is it not past two o’clock? And here much Orlando.

What do you say now? Isn't it past two o'clock? And not a sign of Orlando.

Celia

I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain he hath ta’en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to sleep.

I'm sure that, full of love and troubled thoughts, he's taken his bow and arrows and gone out to sleep.

Silvius

My errand is to you, fair youth.My gentle Phoebe did bid me give you this.

My message is for you, handsome young man. My gentle Phoebe asked me to give you this.

Rosalind

Patience herself would startle at this letterAnd play the swaggerer. Bear this, bear all!She says I am not fair, that I lack manners;She calls me proud, and that she could not love me,Were man as rare as phoenix. ’Od’s my will,Her love is not the hare that I do hunt.Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well,This is a letter of your own device.

Patience herself would lose her temper at this letter and start a fight. If you can put up with this, you can put up with anything! She says I'm not handsome and have no manners. She calls me proud and says she couldn't love me even if men were as rare as the phoenix. For God's sake, her love isn't what I'm hunting for. Why does she write to me like this? Well, shepherd, well, you made up this letter yourself.

Silvius

No, I protest, I know not the contents.Phoebe did write it.

No, I swear I don't know what it says. Phoebe wrote it.

Rosalind

Come, come, you are a fool,And turned into the extremity of love.I saw her hand. She has a leathern hand,A freestone-coloured hand. I verily did thinkThat her old gloves were on, but ’twas her hands.She has a huswife’s hand—but that’s no matter.I say she never did invent this letter;This is a man’s invention, and his hand.

Come on, you're a fool, and love has driven you completely out of your mind. I saw her hands. She has leathery hands, the color of sandstone. I honestly thought she had her old gloves on, but those were her hands. She has a housewife's hands—but that doesn't matter. I tell you, she never composed this letter. A man made this up, and it's in his handwriting.

Silvius

Sure, it is hers.

It's certainly hers.

Rosalind

Why, ’tis a boisterous and a cruel style,A style for challengers. Why, she defies me,Like Turk to Christian. Women’s gentle brainCould not drop forth such giant-rude invention,Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effectThan in their countenance. Will you hear the letter?

Well, it's written in a bullying, cruel style, the kind used to challenge someone to a fight. She challenges me like a Turk challenging a Christian. A woman's gentle mind couldn't produce such brutally monstrous thoughts, such Ethiopian words, darker in their meaning than in their appearance. Would you like to hear the letter?

Silvius

So please you, for I never heard it yet,Yet heard too much of Phoebe’s cruelty.

If you please. I haven't heard it yet, though I've heard far too much of Phoebe's cruelty.

Rosalind

She Phoebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes.

She's giving me the Phoebe treatment. Listen to how the tyrant writes.

Silvius

Call you this railing?

You call that an insult?

Rosalind

Why, thy godhead laid apart,Warr’st thou with a woman’s heart?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 eyneHave power to raise such love in mine,Alack, in me what strange effectWould they work in mild aspect?Whiles you chid me, I did love,How then might your prayers move?He that brings this love to theeLittle knows this love in me;And by him seal up thy mind,Whether that thy youth and kindWill the faithful offer takeOf me, and all that I can make,Or else by him my love deny,And then I’ll study how to die.

Why, after setting aside your godhood, do you wage war on a woman's heart?
Have you ever heard such insults?
As long as a man's eyes courted me, they could do me no harm.
Meaning I'm an animal.
If the scorn in your bright eyes has the power to awaken such love in mine, what strange effect would they have on me if they looked at me kindly? I loved you while you scolded me. How much more would your pleas move me? The man who brings you this love letter knows little of the love I feel. Send your answer back with him, telling me whether your youth and gentle nature will accept my faithful offer of myself and everything I own. Otherwise, send him back with your rejection of my love, and I'll think about how to die.

Silvius

Call you this chiding?

You call that scolding?

Celia

Alas, poor shepherd.

Oh, poor shepherd.

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 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.

Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Will you love a woman like that? Let her make you her instrument and play false tunes on you? That's unbearable! Well, go back to her, since I see love has made you harmless as a tame snake, and tell her this: if she loves me, I order her to love you. If she won't, I'll never accept her unless you plead for her. If you're a true lover, go, and not another word. More people are coming.

Oliver

Good morrow, fair ones. Pray you, if you know,Where in the purlieus of this forest standsA sheepcote fenced about with olive trees?

Good morning, lovely people. Please, if you know, where on the edge of this forest is a shepherd's cottage surrounded by 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.But at this hour the house doth keep itself.There’s none within.

West of here, down in the nearby valley. Follow the row of willows beside the murmuring stream, keeping them on your right, and you'll reach it. But right now the house is looking after itself. There's nobody home.

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,Of female favour, and bestows himselfLike a ripe sister; the woman low,And browner than her brother.” Are not youThe owner of the house I did inquire for?

If my eyes can make use of what I've been told, I should recognize you from your description: those clothes and your ages. “The boy is fair, with a woman's face, and carries himself like a grown young woman. The woman is short and darker than her brother.” Aren't you the owners of the house I asked about?

Celia

It is no boast, being asked, to say we are.

Since you've asked, it's no boast to say we are.

Oliver

Orlando doth commend him to you both,And to that youth he calls his RosalindHe sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?

Orlando sends his greetings to you both. And he sends this bloody handkerchief to the young man he calls his Rosalind. Is that you?

Rosalind

I am. What must we understand by this?

It is. What are we to make of this?

Oliver

Some of my shame, if you will know of meWhat man I am, and how, and why, and whereThis handkerchief was stained.

You'll learn something of my shame, if you'd like me to tell you who I am, and how, why, and where this handkerchief was stained.

Celia

I pray you tell it.

Please tell us.

Oliver

When last the young Orlando parted from you,He left a promise to return againWithin 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 ageAnd high top bald with dry antiquity,A wretched ragged man, o’ergrown with hair,Lay sleeping on his back; about his neckA green and gilded snake had wreathed itself,Who with her head, nimble in threats, approachedThe opening of his mouth. But suddenly,Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itselfAnd with indented glides did slip awayInto a bush; under which bush’s shadeA lioness, with udders all drawn dry,Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watchWhen that the sleeping man should stir. For ’tisThe royal disposition of that beastTo prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.This seen, Orlando did approach the manAnd found it was his brother, his elder brother.

When young Orlando last left you, he promised to return within an hour. As he walked through the forest, turning over sweet and bitter thoughts of love, this is what happened. He glanced to one side, and listen to what he saw. Under an oak whose branches were mossy with age and whose top was bare and dried up, a miserable man in rags, covered with overgrown hair, lay sleeping on his back. A green and gold snake had coiled around his neck and was moving its head threateningly toward his open mouth. But suddenly, seeing Orlando, it uncoiled and slipped away in winding movements into a bush. In that bush's shade a lioness, her teats sucked dry, lay crouching with her head on the ground, watching like a cat for the sleeping man to stir. It's that beast's royal nature not to attack anything that appears dead. Seeing this, Orlando approached the man and discovered it was his brother, his older brother.

Celia

O, I have heard him speak of that same brother,And he did render him the most unnaturalThat lived amongst men.

Oh, I've heard him speak of that brother. He described him as the most heartless brother alive.

Oliver

And well he might so do,For well I know he was unnatural.

And he had every reason to, for I know very well how heartless that brother was.

Rosalind

But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,Food to the sucked and hungry lioness?

But what about Orlando? Did he leave him there as food for the hungry lioness, drained by her cubs?

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 hurtlingFrom miserable slumber I awaked.

Twice he turned his back, intending to do just that. But kindness, always nobler than revenge, and family affection, stronger than his rightful anger, made him fight the lioness. He quickly killed her, and during that struggle I woke from my wretched sleep.

Celia

Are you his brother?

Are you his brother?

Rosalind

Was it you he rescued?

Was it you he rescued?

Celia

Was’t you that did so oft contrive to kill him?

Was it you who so often plotted to kill him?

Oliver

’Twas I; but ’tis not I. I do not shameTo tell you what I was, since my conversionSo sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.

That was me, but I'm no longer that man. I'm not ashamed to tell you what I was, because the change feels so sweet, now that I am who I am.

Rosalind

But, for the bloody napkin?

But what about the bloody handkerchief?

Oliver

By and by.When from the first to last betwixt us twoTears our recountments had most kindly bathed—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 stripped himself, and here upon his armThe lioness had torn some flesh away,Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,And cried in fainting upon Rosalind.Brief, I recovered 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 excuseHis broken promise, and to give this napkin,Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youthThat he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

I'll get to that. We told each other everything from beginning to end, bathing our stories in tears of affection—including how I came to be in that deserted place. In short, he led me to the kind Duke, who gave me fresh clothes and hospitality and entrusted me to my brother's loving care. My brother immediately took me to his cave. There he took off his clothes, and here on his arm the lioness had torn away some flesh. It had been bleeding all this time. Now he fainted, calling out for Rosalind as he fell. To keep it brief, I revived him and bandaged his wound. After a little while, his courage restored, he sent me here, stranger though I am, to tell you this story so that you might forgive his broken promise, and to give this handkerchief, soaked in his blood, to the young shepherd he jokingly calls his Rosalind.

Celia

Why, how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede!

What's wrong, Ganymede, dear Ganymede!

Oliver

Many will swoon when they do look on blood.

Many people faint at the sight of blood.

Celia

There is more in it. Cousin—Ganymede!

There's more to it than that. Cousin—Ganymede!

Oliver

Look, he recovers.

Look, he's coming around.

Rosalind

I would I were at home.

I wish I were at home.

Celia

We’ll lead you thither.I pray you, will you take him by the arm?

We'll take you there. Please, will you take his arm?

Oliver

Be of good cheer, youth. You a man? You lack a man’s heart.

Take heart, young man. Are you a man? You haven't got a man's courage.

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.

I do, I admit it. Ah, sir, anyone would think I put on a convincing act. Please tell your brother how well I pretended. Oh dear.

Oliver

This was not counterfeit. There is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.

That was no act. Your face gives far too much evidence that your feelings were real.

Rosalind

Counterfeit, I assure you.

An act, I assure you.

Oliver

Well then, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a man.

Well then, take courage and pretend to be a man.

Rosalind

So I do. But, i’ faith, I should have been a woman by right.

That's what I'm doing. But honestly, I should have been a woman.

Celia

Come, you look paler and paler. Pray you draw homewards. Good sir, go with us.

Come on, you're getting paler and paler. Please head home. Good sir, come with us.

Oliver

That will I, for I must bear answer backHow you excuse my brother, Rosalind.

I will, because I must take back word of whether you forgive my brother, Rosalind.

Rosalind

I shall devise something. But I pray you commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go?

I'll think of something. But please tell him how good my acting was. Shall we go?