A room in the palace.
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 than myself!