SCENE IV. A Cottage in the Forest. Enter ROSALIND, and CELIA. Ros. Never talk to me, I will weep. 550 have the grace to con sider, 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. 561 Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy beard. Cel. 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. 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? 570 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. Giij Ros. 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. 582 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 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 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 goose: but all's brave, that youth mounts, and folly guides :-Who comes here? 594 Enter CORIN, Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft inquired After the shepherd that complain'd of love; Whom you saw sitting by me on the turf, Cet. Well, and what of him? Cor. If you will see a pageant truly play'd, Between the pale complexion of true love 600 And And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Ros. O, come, let us remove; The sight of lovers feedeth those in love :- [Exeunt. Say, that you love me not; but say not so In bitterness: The common executioner, 610 Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, But first begs pardon: Will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN. Phe. I would not be thy executioner; I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eyes 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes,—that are the frail'st and softest things, 620 Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! And, if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: 630 Now shew the wound mine eyes have made in thee: Thy palm some moment keeps: but now mine eyes, Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. Sil. O dear Phebe, If ever (as that ever may be near) You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, Then shall you know the wounds invisible That love's keen arrows make. Phe. But, 'till that time, 640 Come not thou near me: and, when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; As, 'till that time, I shall not pity thee. Ros. And why, I pray you?-Who might be your mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once, Over the wretched? What though you have beauty (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed), 650 Must 661 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? ther; I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. Ros. [Aside.] He's fallen in love with her foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger :-If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'l sauce |