As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 4

Rosalind

Never talk to me, I will weep.

Don’t talk to me. I’m going to cry.

Celia

Do, I prithee, but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man.

Please do, but at least have the sense to remember that tears don’t look good on a man.

Rosalind

But have I not cause to weep?

But don’t I have a reason to cry?

Celia

As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.

As good a reason as anyone could wish for, so go ahead and cry.

Rosalind

His very hair is of the dissembling colour.

Even his hair is a deceitful color.

Celia

Something browner than Judas’s. Marry, his kisses are Judas’s own children.

A little browner than Judas’s. His kisses certainly belong to the same family as Judas’s.

Rosalind

I’ faith, his hair is of a good colour.

Really, his hair is a lovely color.

Celia

An excellent colour. Your chestnut was ever the only colour.

An excellent color. Chestnut has always been the finest color of all.

Rosalind

And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread.

And his kiss is as holy as the touch of communion 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.

He’s bought a pair of Diana’s old lips. A nun in a sisterhood as cold as winter doesn’t kiss more devoutly. His kisses have the icy coldness of chastity itself.

Rosalind

But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not?

But why did he swear he would come this morning and then not come?

Celia

Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.

Well, clearly, there’s no truth in him.

Rosalind

Do you think so?

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.

Yes. I don’t think he’s a pickpocket or a horse thief, but as for being faithful in love, I think he’s as hollow as a covered drinking cup or a worm-eaten nut.

Rosalind

Not true in love?

Not faithful in love?

Celia

Yes, when he is in, but I think he is not in.

Yes, when he’s in love, but I don’t think he is.

Rosalind

You have heard him swear downright he was.

You’ve heard him swear outright that 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.

“Was” is not “is.” Besides, a lover’s oath is no more reliable than a bartender’s word. Both swear that false bills are accurate. He’s here in the forest serving 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?

I met the Duke yesterday and talked with him at length. He asked what family I came from. I told him it was as good as his, so he laughed and let me go. But why are we talking about fathers when there’s a man like 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 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?

Oh, what a splendid man! He writes splendid poems, speaks splendid words, swears splendid oaths, and breaks them splendidly—right across his sweetheart’s heart, like an inexperienced jouster who spurs his horse on only one side and breaks his lance sideways like a magnificent fool. But everything is splendid when youth is in the saddle and foolishness holds the reins. Who’s coming?

Corin

Mistress and master, you have oft enquiredAfter the shepherd that complained of love,Who you saw sitting by me on the turf,Praising the proud disdainful shepherdessThat was his mistress.

Madam and sir, you’ve often asked about the shepherd who complained of love, the one you saw sitting beside me on the grass, praising the proud, scornful shepherdess he loved.

Celia

Well, and what of him?

Well, what about him?

Corin

If you will see a pageant truly playedBetween the pale complexion of true loveAnd the red glow of scorn and proud disdain,Go hence a little, and I shall conduct you,If you will mark it.

If you’d like to see a real-life drama between the pale face of true love and the red glow of scorn and proud contempt, come a little way from here. I’ll guide you, if you’d like to watch.

Rosalind

O, come, let us remove.The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.Bring us to this sight, and you shall sayI’ll prove a busy actor in their play.

Oh, come, let’s go. The sight of lovers nourishes those in love. Take us to see them, and you’ll find that I’ll play an active part in their drama.