SCENE II.--_An Open Place in the Woods.

_Enter_ ANGELICA, _like a poor woman._

_Ang._ Thus causeless banish'd from thy native home, Here sit, Angelica, and rest a while, For to bewail the fortunes of thy love.

_Enter_ RODOMONT _and_ BRANDIMART, _with_ Soldiers.

_Rod._ This way she went, and far she cannot be.

_Brand._ See where she is, my lord: speak as if you knew her not.

_Rod._ Fair shepherdess, for so thy sitting seems, Or nymph, for less thy beauty cannot be, What, feed you sheep upon these downs?

_Ang._ Daughter I am unto a bordering swain, That tend my flocks within these shady groves.

_Rod._ Fond girl, thou liest; thou art Angelica.

_Brand._ Ay, thou art she that wrong'd the Palatine.

_Ang._ For I am known, albeit I am disguis'd, Yet dare I turn the lie into thy throat, Sith thou report'st I wrong'd the Palatine.

_Brand._ Nay, then, thou shalt be used according to thy deserts.--Come, bring her to our tents.

_Rod._ But stay, what drum is this?

_Enter_ ORLANDO _with a drum_; ORGALIO; TOM, RALPH, _and others as_ Soldiers, _with spits and dripping-pans._

_Brand._ Now see, Angelica, the fruits of all your love.

_Orl._ Soldiers, this is the city of great Babylon, Where proud Darius was rebated from: Play but the men, and I will lay my head, We'll sack and raze it ere the sun be set.

_Tom._ Yea, and scratch it too.--March fair, fellow frying-pan.

_Orl._ Orgalio, knowest thou the cause of my laughter?

_Org._ No, by my troth, nor no wise man else.

_Orl._ Why, sirrah, to think that if the enemy were fled ere we come, we'll not leave one of our own soldiers alive, for we two will kill them with our fists.

_Ralph._ Foh, come, let's go home again: he'll set _probatum est_ upon my head-piece anon.

_Orl._ No, no, thou shalt not be hurt,--nor thee. Back, soldiers; look where the enemy is.

_Tom._ Captain, they have a woman amongst them.

_Orl._ And what of that?

_Tom._ Why, strike you down the men, and then let me alone to thrust in the woman.

_Orl._ No, I am challengèd the single fight.-- Sirrah, is't you challenge me the combat?

_Brand._ Frantic companion, lunatic and wood,[157] Get thee hence, or else I vow by heaven, Thy madness shall not privilege thy life.

_Orl._ I tell thee, villain, Medor wrong'd me so, Sith thou art come his champion to the field, I'll learn thee know I am the Palatine.

_Alarum: they fight;_ ORLANDO _kills_ BRANDIMART; _and all the rest fly, except_ ANGELICA _and_ ORGALIO.

_Org._ Look, my lord, here's one killed.

_Orl._ Who killed him?

_Org._ You, my lord, I think.

_Orl._ I! no, no, I see who killed him. [_Goes to_ ANGELICA, _and knows her not._ Come hither, gentle sir, whose prowess hath performed such an act: think not the courteous Palatine will hinder that thine honour hath achieved.--Orgalio, fetch me a sword, that presently this squire may be dubbed a knight.

_Ang._ [_aside_]. Thanks, gentle fortune, that sends me such good hap, Rather to die by him I love so dear, Than live and see my lord thus lunatic.

_Org._ [_giving a sword_]. Here, my lord.

_Orl._ If thou be'st come of Lancelot's worthy line, welcome thou art. Kneel down, sir knight; rise up, sir knight; Here, take this sword, and hie thee to the fight. [_Exit_ ANGELICA _with the sword._

Now tell me, Orgalio, what dost thou think? will not this knight prove a valiant squire?

_Org._ He cannot choose, being of your making.

_Orl._ But where's Angelica now?

_Org._ Faith, I cannot tell.

_Orl._ Villain, find her out, Or else the torments that Ixion feels, The rolling stone, the tubs of the Belides--[158] Villain, wilt thou find her out?

_Org._ Alas, my lord, I know not where she is.

_Orl._ Run to Charlemagne, spare for no cost; Tell him, Orlando sent for Angelica.

_Org._ Faith, I'll fetch you such an Angelica as you never saw before. [_Exit._

_Orl._ As though that Sagittarius in his pride Could take brave Leda from stout Jupiter! And yet, forsooth, Medor, base Medor durst Attempt to reave Orlando of his love. Sirrah, you that are the messenger of Jove, You that can sweep it through the milk-white path That leads unto the senate-house of Mars, Fetch me my shield temper'd of purest steel, My helm forg'd by the Cyclops for Anchises' son And see if I dare combat for Angelica.

_Re-enter_ ORGALIO _with_ TOM[159] _dressed like_ ANGELICA.

_Org._ Come away, and take heed you laugh not.

_Tom._ No, I warrant you; but I think I had best go back and shave my beard.

_Org._ Tush, that will not be seen.

_Tom._ Well, you will give me the half-crown ye promised me?

_Org._ Doubt not of that, man.

_Tom._ Sirrah, didst not see me serve the fellow a fine trick, when we came over the market-place?

_Org._ Why, how was that?

_Tom._ Why, he comes to me and said, "Gentlewoman, wilt please you take a pint or a quart?" "No gentlewoman," said I, "but your friend and Dority."

_Org._ Excellent!--Come, see where my lord is.--My lord, here is Angelica.

_Orl._ Mass, thou say'st true, 'tis she indeed.--How fares the fair Angelica?

_Tom._ Well, I thank you heartily.

_Orl._ Why, art thou not that same Angelica, With brows as bright as fair Erythea That darks Canopus[160] with her silver hue?

_Tom._ Yes, forsooth.

_Orl._ Are not these the beauteous cheeks Wherein the lily and the native rose Sit equal-suited with a blushing red?

_Tom._ He makes a garden-plot in my face.

_Orl._ Are not, my dear, those [the] radiant eyes, Whereout proud Phœbus flasheth out his beams?

_Tom._ Yes, yes, with squibs and crackers bravely.

_Orl._ You are Angelica?

_Tom._ Yes, marry, am I.

_Orl._ Where's your sweetheart Medor?

_Tom._ Orgalio, give me eighteen-pence, and let me go.

_Orl._ Speak, strumpet, speak.

_Tom._ Marry, sir, he is drinking a pint or a quart.

_Orl._ Why, strumpet, worse than Mars his trothless love, Falser than faithless Cressida! strumpet, thou shalt not 'scape. [_Beats him._

_Tom._ Come, come, you do not use me like a gentlewoman: an if I be not for you, I am for another.

_Orl._ Are you? that will I try. [_Beats him out. Exeunt._

ACT THE FOURTH