Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena, and TOUCHSTONE.
ROSALIND: O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits!
TOUCHSTONE: I care not for my spirits, if my legs were
ROSALIND: I could find in my heart to disgrace my
man's apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must 
comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought
to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore
courage, good Aliena!
CELIA: I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further.
TOUCHSTONE: For my part, I had rather bear with 
you than bear you; yet I should bear no cross if I did
bear you, for I think you have no money in your
ROSALIND: Well, this is the forest of Arden.
TOUCHSTONE: Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool 
I; when I was at home, I was in a better place: but
travellers must be content.
ROSALIND: Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here; Enter CORIN and SILVIUS.
A young man and an old in solemn talk.
CORIN: That is the way to make her scorn you still. 
SILVIUS: O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her!
CORIN: I partly guess; for I have loved ere now.
SILVIUS: No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess,
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: 
But if thy love were ever like to mine--
As sure I think did never man love so--
How many actions most ridiculous
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
CORIN: Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
SILVIUS: O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not loved:
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not loved:
Or if thou hast not broke from company
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not loved. 
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe!
ROSALIND: Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
I have by hard adventure found mine own.
TOUCHSTONE: And I mine. I remember, when I was
in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him 
take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I
remember the kissing of her batlet and the cow's
dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked; and I
remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her,
from whom I took two cods and, giving her them 
again, said with weeping tears 'Wear these for my
sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers;
but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love
mortal in folly.
ROSALIND: Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. 
TOUCHSTONE: Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own
wit till I break my shins against it.
ROSALIND: Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion
Is much upon my fashion.
TOUCHSTONE: And mine; but it grows something 
stale with me.
CELIA: I pray you, one of you question yond man
If he for gold will give us any food:
I faint almost to death.