Enter CELIA and ROSALIND.
CELIA: Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have
mercy! not a word?
ROSALIND: Not one to throw at a dog.
CELIA: No, thy words are too precious to be cast away
upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame 
me with reasons.
ROSALIND: Then there were two cousins laid up;
when the one should be lamed with reasons and the
other mad without any.
CELIA: But is all this for your father? 
ROSALIND: No, some of it is for my child's father. O,
how full of briers is this working-day world!
CELIA: They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee
in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden
paths our very petticoats will catch them. 
ROSALIND: I could shake them off my coat: these
burs are in my heart.
CELIA: Hem them away.
ROSALIND: I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and
have him. 
CELIA: Come, come, wrestle with thy affections.
ROSALIND: O, they take the part of a better wrestler
CELIA: O, a good wish upon you! you will try in
time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of 
service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on
such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking
with old Sir Rowland's youngest son?
ROSALIND: The duke my father loved his father
CELIA: Doth it therefore ensue that you should love
his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate
him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate
ROSALIND: No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. 
CELIA: Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?
ROSALIND: Let me love him for that, and do you love
him because I do. Look, here comes the duke.
CELIA: With his eyes full of anger.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.
DUKE FREDERICK: Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste 
And get you from our court.