SCENE IV.
A cottage in the forest.
Enter Rosalind and Celia.
Ros.
Never talk to me, I will weep.
Cel.
Do, I pr'ythee; but yet have the grace to
consider, that tears do not become a man.
Ros.
But have I not cause to weep?
Cel.
As good cause as one would desire; therefore
weep.
Ros.
His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
Cel.
Something browner than Judas's2 note
: marry, his
kisses are Judas's own children.
-- 341 --
Ros.
I'faith, his hair is of a good colour3 note.
Cel.
An excellent colour: your chesnut was ever
the only colour.
Ros.
And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the
touch of holy beard4 note.
Cel.
He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana:
a nun of winter's sisterhood5 note
kisses not more religiously;
the very ice of chastity is in them.
-- 342 --
Ros.
But why did he swear he would come this
morning, and comes not?
Cel.
Nay certainly, there is no truth in him.
Ros.
Do you think so?
Cel.
Yes: I think he is not a pick-purse, nor a
horse-stealer; but for his verity in love, I do think
him as concave as a cover'd goblet6 note, or a worm-eaten
nut.
Ros.
Not true in love?
Cel.
Yes, when he is in; but, I think, he is not in.
Ros.
You have heard him swear downright, he was.
Cel.
Was, is not is: besides, the oath of a lover is
no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both
the confirmers of false reckonings: He attends here
in the forest on the duke your father.
Ros.
I met the duke yesterday, and had much
question7 note with him: He asked me, of what parentage
I was; I told him, of as good as he: so he laugh'd,
and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when
there is such a man as Orlando?
Cel.
O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses,
speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks
them bravely, quite traverse, athwart8 note
the heart of
-- 343 --
his lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on
one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose: but all's
brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides:—Who
comes here?
Enter Corin.
Cor.
Mistress, and master, you have oft enquired
After the shepherd that complain'd of love;
Whom you saw sitting by me on the turf,
-- 344 --
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.
Cel.
Well, and what of him?
Cor.
If you will see a pageant truly play'd,
Between the pale complexion of true love
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,
Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,
If you will mark it.
Ros.
O, come, let us remove;
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love:—
Bring us but to this sight, and you shall say
I'll prove a busy actor in their play.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
