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 a 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, as the touch of
holy bread.
-- 238 --
Cel.
He hath bought a pair of chaste lips of Diana; a nun
of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice
of chastity is in them.
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
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, 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
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 enquir'd
After the shepherd that complain'd of love,
Whom you saw sitting by me on the turf,
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess
-- 239 --
That was his mistress.
Cel.
Well, and what of him?
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.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
