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's4 note. Marry, his
kisses are Judas's own children.
Ros.
I'faith, his hair is of a good colour.
Cel.
An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the
only colour.
Ros.
And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the
touch of holy bread5 note.
Cel.
He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana6 note:
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 covered goblet, or a worm-eaten nut.
Ros.
Not true in love?
-- 65 --
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 lover7 note 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 asked me, of what parentage I was?
I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed, 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, athwart the heart of his
lover; as a puny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one
side, breaks his staff like a noble goose8 note. But all's
brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides.—Who
comes here?
Enter Corin.
Cor.
Mistress, and master, you have oft inquir'd
After the shepherd that complain'd of love,
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,
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:
-- 66 --
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.—
Bring us to this sight9 note, and you shall say
I'll prove a busy actor in their play.
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
