As You Like It, Act 4, Scene 3

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 here's plenty of Orlando, isn't there.

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

I promise you, with nothing but love and a troubled head he has taken his bow and arrows and gone off to sleep.

Look who comes here.

Look who's coming here.

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

My errand is to you, handsome young man. My gentle Phoebe told me to give you this.

I know not the contents, but, as I guess By the stern brow and waspish action Which she did use as she was writing of it, It bears an angry tenor. Pardon me, I am but as a guiltless messenger.

I don't know what it says, but, as far as I can guess from the severe frown and the sharp-tempered gestures she made while she was writing it, it has an angry tone. Forgive me — I'm only an innocent messenger.

Patience herself would startle at this letter And 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 jump at this letter and start swaggering like a bully. Put up with this and you can put up with anything! She says I'm not good-looking, that I have no manners; she calls me proud, and says she couldn't love me even if men were as rare as the phoenix. God be my witness, her love is not the hare I'm hunting. Why does she write to me like this? Well, shepherd, well — this is a letter you made up yourself.

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

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

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 think That 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, come on, you're a fool, driven to the far edge of love. I've seen her hand. She has a hand like leather, a hand the colour of sandstone. I honestly thought she had her old gloves on, but those were her hands. She has a housewife's hand — but that doesn't matter. I tell you she never composed this letter; this is a man's composing, and a man's handwriting.

Sure, it is hers.

I'm sure it's hers.

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

Why, it's a rough, cruel style, a style for men issuing challenges. Why, she defies me the way a Turk defies a Christian. A woman's gentle brain couldn't produce such monstrously rude invention, such Ethiopian words, blacker in their meaning than in their look. Do you want to hear the letter?

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

If you please, since I've never heard it yet, though I've heard far too much of Phoebe's cruelty.

She Phoebes me. Mark how the tyrant writes.

She gives me the full Phoebe. Listen to how the tyrant writes.

Art thou god to shepherd turned, That a maiden’s heart hath burned? Can a woman rail thus?

"Have you, a god, turned shepherd, since you have burned a girl's heart?" Can a woman abuse a man like that?

Call you this railing?

Do you call this abuse?

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 eyne 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? 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 Of me, and all that I can make, Or else by him my love deny, And then I’ll study how to die.

"Why, setting your divinity aside, do you make war on a woman's heart?" Did you ever hear such abuse? "While men's eyes courted me, they could do me no harm." Calling me a beast. "If the scorn of your bright eyes has the power to stir up such love in mine, then, alas, what a strange effect they would have on me if they looked kindly. While you were scolding me, I loved you; how much more, then, would your pleading move me? The man who brings this love to you knows nothing of this love in me. Send back your mind sealed up by him, telling me whether your youth and your nature will accept the faithful offer of myself and everything I can provide; or else refuse my love through him, and then I'll set about learning how to die."

Call you this chiding?

Do you call this scolding?

Alas, poor shepherd.

Oh, poor shepherd.

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? What, so she can make an instrument of you and play false tunes on you? Not to be put up with! Well, go your way to her, because I see love has made you a tame snake, and say this to her: that if she loves me, I order her to love you; if she won't, I'll never have her unless you plead for her. If you're a true lover, get going, and not a word, because here comes more company.

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

Good morning, fair pair. Please, if you know, tell me where in the outskirts of this forest there stands a sheep-shed fenced round with olive trees.

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 valley nearby; the row of willows, by the murmuring stream, left on your right hand, brings you to the place. But at this hour the house is looking after itself. There's no one inside.

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 himself Like a ripe sister; the woman low, And browner than her brother.” Are not you The owner of the house I did inquire for?

If an eye can learn anything from a tongue, then I ought to know you from the description: such clothes, and such ages. "The boy is fair, with a girl's looks, and carries himself like an older sister just grown up; the woman is short, and browner than her brother." Aren't you the owners of the house I was asking about?

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

It's no boasting, since you ask, to say that we are.

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

Orlando sends his greetings to you both, and to the young man he calls his Rosalind he sends this bloody handkerchief. Are you he?

I am. What must we understand by this?

I am. What are we supposed to understand by this?

Some of my shame, if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkerchief was stained.

Something of my shame, if you want to learn from me what sort of man I am, and how, and why, and where this handkerchief was stained.

I pray you tell it.

Please tell it.

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.

When young Orlando last left you, he left a promise to come back within an hour, and as he walked through the forest, chewing over the food of sweet and bitter daydreams, look what happened. He glanced aside, and see what sight presented itself. Under an oak, whose branches were mossy with age and whose high top was bald with dry old age, a wretched man in rags, overgrown with hair, lay sleeping on his back; around his neck a green and gold snake had coiled itself, and with its head, quick and threatening, it was approaching the opening of his mouth. But suddenly, seeing Orlando, it uncoiled itself and with zigzag slitherings slipped away into a bush; and in the shade of that bush a lioness, her udders sucked completely dry, lay crouching, her head on the ground, watching like a cat for the moment the sleeping man should move. Because it is the royal nature of that beast to prey on nothing that seems dead. Seeing this, Orlando went up to the man and found it was his brother, his elder brother.

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

Oh, I have heard him speak of that same brother, and he described him as the most unnatural man alive.

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

And he had good reason to, because I know very well he was unnatural.

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

But, back to Orlando: did he leave him there, food for the milk-drained and hungry lioness?

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.

Twice he turned his back, intending to do that; but kindness, always nobler than revenge, and natural feeling, stronger than his good reason for revenge, made him fight the lioness, who quickly fell before him; and in that violent struggle I woke from my miserable sleep.

Are you his brother?

Are you his brother?

Was it you he rescued?

Was it you he rescued?

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

Was it you who so often plotted to kill him?

’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.

It was I; but it isn't I now. I'm not ashamed to tell you what I was, since my conversion tastes so sweet, now that I am what I am.

But, for the bloody napkin?

But what about the bloody handkerchief?

By and by. When from the first to last betwixt us two Tears 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 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 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 excuse His broken promise, and to give this napkin, Dyed in his blood, unto the shepherd youth That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

In a moment. When, going over everything from first to last between the two of us, our tears had lovingly bathed our stories — such as how I came into that wild place — in short, he led me to the gentle Duke, who gave me fresh clothes and hospitality, and handed me over to my brother's love, and he took me straight to his cave. There he undressed, and here on his arm the lioness had torn some flesh away, which had been bleeding all this time; and then he fainted, and as he fainted he called out on Rosalind. In brief, I brought him round, bound up his wound, and after a short while, being strong-hearted, he sent me here, stranger though I am, to tell this story, so that you might forgive his broken promise, and to give this handkerchief, dyed in his blood, to the shepherd boy he playfully calls his Rosalind.

Why, how now, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede!

Why, what's this, Ganymede, sweet Ganymede!

Many will swoon when they do look on blood.

Many people faint when they look at blood.

There is more in it. Cousin—Ganymede!

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

Look, he recovers.

Look, he's coming round.

I would I were at home.

I wish I were at home.

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

We'll take you there. Please, will you take him by the arm?

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

Cheer up, young man. You, a man? You haven't got a man's heart.

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 haven't, I admit it. Ah, my friend, anyone would think that was well faked. Please tell your brother how well I faked it. Oh dear.

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

That was no fake. There's too much evidence in your face that it was a genuine fit of feeling.

Counterfeit, I assure you.

Faked, I assure you.

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

Well then, take courage, and fake being a man.

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

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

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

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

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

I will, because I must carry back an answer telling how you forgive my brother, Rosalind.

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

I'll think of something. But please pass on my compliments on my faking to him. Will you come?