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Brief, I recover’d 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,

Dy’d in [his] blood, unto the shepherd youth

That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.

[Rosalind faints.]

Cel.

Why, how now, Ganymed, sweet Ganymed?

Oli.

Many will swoon when they do look on blood.

Cel.

There is more in it. Cousin Ganymed!

Oli.

Look, he recovers.

Ros.

I would I were at home.

Cel.

We’ll lead you thither.

I pray you, will you take him by the arm?

Oli.

Be of good cheer, youth. You a man?

You lack a man’s heart.

Ros. 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!

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

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you.

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