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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 awaked.

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?

Oli.

By and by.

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 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.