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The forest.
[Enter ROSALIND and CELIA]
ROSALIND Never talk to me; I will weep.
CELIA Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider
that tears do not become a man.
ROSALIND But have I not cause to weep?
CELIA As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.
ROSALIND His very hair is of the dissembling colour.
CELIA Something browner than Judas’s marry,
his kisses are Judas’s own children.
ROSALIND I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour.
CELIA An excellent colour:
your chestnut was ever the only colour.
ROSALIND And his kissing is as full of sanctity
as the touch of holy bread.
CELIA He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana:
a nun of winter’s sisterhood kisses not more religiously;
the very ice of chastity is in them.
ROSALIND But why did he swear he would come this
morning, and comes not?
CELIA Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.
ROSALIND Do you think so?
CELIA 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.
ROSALIND Not true in love?
CELIA Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in.
ROSALIND You have heard him swear downright he was.
CELIA ‘Was’ is not ‘is:’ besides, the oath of a lover is
no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are
both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends
here in the forest on the duke your father.
ROSALIND 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?
CELIA 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 puisny 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]
CORIN Mistress and master, you have oft inquired
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.
CELIA Well, and what of him?
CORIN 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.
ROSALIND O, come, let us remove:
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
Bring us to this sight, and you shall say
I’ll prove a busy actor in their play.
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