Never talk to me. I will weep.

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 color.

O, that’s a brave man. He writes brave verses,
speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and
breaks them bravely

Celia
Something browner than Judas’s. Marry, his
kisses are Judas’s own children.
Rosalind
I’ faith, his hair is of a good color.
Celia
An excellent color. Your chestnut was ever the
only color.
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 pickpurse 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 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.