Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie, Not a word? Ros. Not one to throw at a dog
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee with reasons
Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any
Cel. But is all this for your Father? Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh how full of briers is this working day world
Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths our very petty-coates will catch them
Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are in my heart
Cel. Hem them away
Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him
Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections
Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then my selfe
Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Roulands yongest sonne? Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate not Orlando
Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well? Enter Duke with Lords.
Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke
Cel. With his eies full of anger
Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our Court
Ros. Me Vncle
Duk. You Cosen, Within these ten daies if that thou beest found So neere our publike Court as twentie miles, Thou diest for it
Ros. I doe beseech your Grace Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me: If with my selfe I hold intelligence, Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires, If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke, (As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle, Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne, Did I offend your highnesse
Duk. Thus doe all Traitors, If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace it selfe; Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor; Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends? Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough
Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome, So was I when your highnesse banisht him; Treason is not inherited my Lord, Or if we did deriue it from our friends, What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor, Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much, To thinke my pouertie is treacherous
Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake
Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake, Else had she with her Father rang'd along
Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay, It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse, I was too yong that time to value her, But now I know her: if she be a Traitor, Why so am I: we still haue slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together, And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans, Still we went coupled and inseperable