O my dear Orlando, how it grieves me

Rosalind, as Ganymede
O my dear Orlando, how it grieves me
to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.
Orlando
It is my arm.
Rosalind, as Ganymede
I thought thy heart had been
wounded with the claws of a lion.
Orlando
Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.

But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into
happiness through another man’s eyes.

Rosalind, as Ganymede
Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited
to swoon when he showed me your handkercher?
Orlando
Ay, and greater wonders than that.
Rosalind, as Ganymede
O, I know where you are.
Nay, ’tis true. There was never anything so sudden
but the fight of two rams, and Caesar’s thrasonical
brag of “I came, saw, and overcame. ” For your
brother and my sister no sooner met but they
looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner
loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they
asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the
reason but they sought the remedy;Anadiplosis & Gradatio and in these
degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage,
which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent
before marriage. They are in the very wrath
of love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them.
Orlando
They shall be married tomorrow, and I will
bid the Duke to the nuptial. But O, how bitter a
thing it is to look into happiness through another
man’s eyes. By so much the more shall I tomorrow
be at the height of heart-heaviness by how much I
shall think my brother happy in having what he
wishes for.