OLIVER. Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheep-cote fenc'd about with 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. 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 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? CELIA. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. OLIVER. Orlando doth commend him to you both; And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? 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 handkercher was stain'd. 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 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 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 liv'd 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 suck'd and hungry lioness? OLIVER. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd 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 awak'd. CELIA. Are you his brother? ROSALIND. Was't you he rescu'd? CELIA. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? OLIVER. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I. I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion