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    Act 3, Scene IV

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    Chapter 14
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    SCENE IV. 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.

    Exeunt
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