Scoena Quarta.
Enter Rosalind & Celia.
Ros. Neuer talke to me, I wil weepe
Cel. Do I prethee, but yet haue the grace to consider,
that teares do not become a man
Ros. But haue I not cause to weepe?
Cel. As good cause as one would desire,
Therefore weepe
Ros. His very haire
Is of the dissembling colour
Cel. Something browner then Iudasses:
Marrie his kisses are Iudasses owne children
Ros. I'faith his haire is of a good colour
Cel. An excellent colour:
Your Chessenut was euer the onely colour:
Ros. And his kissing is as ful of sanctitie,
As the touch of holy bread
Cel. Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a Nun of winters sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie, the very yce of chastity is in them