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's: marry his
kisses are Judas's own children.
Ros.
I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.
Cel.
An excellent colour: your chesnut was ever
the only colour.
Ros.
And his kissing is as full of sanctity, 4 noteas the
touch of holy beard.
Cel.
He hath bought a pair of (a) note cast lips of
Diana; 5 note
a nun of Winter's sisterhood kisses not more
religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.
-- 350 --
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 6 noteas concave as a cover'd goblet, 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
question with him: he askt me, of what parentage I
was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laugh'd,
-- 351 --
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, 7 note
quite travers, athwart the heart
of his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse
but 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,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
That was his mistress.
Cel.
Well, and what of him?
-- 352 --
Cor.
If you will see a pageant truly plaid,
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.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
