Why, cousin! Why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy

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.

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

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.
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 dearly.
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 not Orlando.
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.