As You Like It, Act 3, Scene 4

Never talk to me, I will weep.

Don't say anything to me, I'm going to cry.

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

Please do, but at least have the good sense to remember that tears don't suit a man.

But have I not cause to weep?

But don't I have reason to cry?

As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep.

As good a reason as anyone could want, so cry.

His very hair is of the dissembling colour.

Even his hair is the colour of a deceiver.

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

A bit browner than Judas's. Honestly, his kisses are Judas's own offspring.

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

Truly, his hair is a fine colour.

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

An excellent colour. Chestnut was always the only colour worth having.

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

And his kissing is as holy as the touch of consecrated bread.

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 has bought a pair of Diana's cast-off lips. A nun sworn to winter's chastity doesn't kiss more piously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

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?

Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him.

No, certainly, there's no truth in him.

Do you think so?

Do you think so?

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 his truthfulness in love, I think he's as hollow as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut.

Not true in love?

Not true in love?

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

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

You have heard him swear downright he was.

You've heard him swear flatly that he was.

“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" isn't "is". Besides, a lover's oath is no more reliable than the word of a barman. They both back up false accounts. He's waiting here in the forest on the Duke your father.

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 had a long conversation with him. He asked me what family I came from. I told him, as good a one as his, so he laughed and let me go. But why are we talking about fathers when there's such a man as Orlando?

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, he's a splendid man! He writes splendid verses, speaks splendid words, swears splendid oaths, and breaks them splendidly, sideways, right across the heart of the woman he loves, like a feeble jouster who spurs his horse on one side only and snaps his lance like a grand fool of a goose. But everything is splendid that youth rides and folly steers. Who's coming here?

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

Mistress and master, you have often asked about the shepherd who was complaining of love, the one you saw sitting beside me on the grass, praising the proud, scornful shepherdess who was his lady.

Well, and what of him?

Well, and what about him?

If you will see a pageant truly played 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.

If you want to see a show truly performed between the pale complexion of true love and the red flush of scorn and proud contempt, come away a short distance and I'll take you there, if you care to watch it.

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.

Oh, come on, let's go. The sight of lovers is food for those in love. Take us to this sight, and you'll say I turn out to be an active performer in their play.