| Speeches (Lines) for Rosalind | ||
| # | Act, Scene, Line (Click to see in context) | Speech text | 
| 1 | Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and
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| 2 | Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to
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| 3 | From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports.
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| 4 | What shall be our sport, then? | |
| 5 | I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily
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| 6 | Nay; now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's:
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| 7 | Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when
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| 8 | Where learned you that oath, fool? | |
| 9 | Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. | |
| 10 | With his mouth full of news. | |
| 11 | Then shall we be news-cramm'd. | |
| 12 | As wit and fortune will. | |
| 13 | Thou losest thy old smell. | |
| 14 | Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. | |
| 15 | With bills on their necks: 'Be it known unto all men by
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| 16 | Alas! | |
| 17 | But is there any else longs to see this broken music in
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| 18 | Is yonder the man? | |
| 19 | Ay, my liege; so please you give us leave. | |
| 20 | Young man, have you challeng'd Charles the wrestler? | |
| 21 | Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be
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| 22 | The little strength that I have, I would it were with
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| 23 | Fare you well. Pray heaven I be deceiv'd in you! | |
| 24 | Now, Hercules be thy speed, young man! | |
| 25 | O excellent young man! | |
| 26 | My father lov'd Sir Rowland as his soul,
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| 27 | Gentleman,        [Giving him a chain from her neck]
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| 28 | He calls us back. My pride fell with my fortunes;
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| 29 | Have with you. Fare you well. | |
| 30 | Not one to throw at a dog. | |
| 31 | Then there were two cousins laid up, when the one should
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| 32 | No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of
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| 33 | I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my
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| 34 | I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him. | |
| 35 | O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself. | |
| 36 | The Duke my father lov'd his father dearly. | |
| 37 | No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. | |
| 38 | Let me love him for that; and do you love him because I
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| 39 | Me, uncle? | |
| 40 | I do beseech your Grace,
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| 41 | Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor.
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| 42 | So was I when your Highness took his dukedom;
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| 43 | I have more cause. | |
| 44 | That he hath not. | |
| 45 | Why, whither shall we go? | |
| 46 | Alas, what danger will it be to us,
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| 47 | Were it not better,
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| 48 | I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page,
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| 49 | But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal
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| 50 | O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! | |
| 51 | I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel,
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| 52 | Well, this is the Forest of Arden. | |
| 53 | Ay, be so, good Touchstone. Look you, who comes here, a
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| 54 | Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound,
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| 55 | Thou speak'st wiser than thou art ware of. | |
| 56 | Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion
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| 57 | Peace, fool; he's not thy kinsman. | |
| 58 | Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. | |
| 59 | I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold
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| 60 | What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? | |
| 61 | I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,
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| 62 | 'From the east to western Inde,
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| 63 | Out, fool! | |
| 64 | Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. | |
| 65 | I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a
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| 66 | Peace!
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| 67 | O most gentle Jupiter! What tedious homily of love have
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| 68 | O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them
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| 69 | Ay, but the feet were lame, and could not bear themselves
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| 70 | I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you
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| 71 | Is it a man? | |
| 72 | I prithee, who? | |
| 73 | Nay, but who is it? | |
| 74 | Nay, I prithee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell
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| 75 | Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am
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| 76 | Is he of God's making? What manner of man?
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| 77 | Why, God will send more if the man will be thankful. Let
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| 78 | Nay, but the devil take mocking! Speak sad brow and true
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| 79 | Orlando? | |
| 80 | Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose?
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| 81 | But doth he know that I am in this forest, and in man's
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| 82 | It may well be call'd Jove's tree, when it drops forth
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| 83 | Proceed. | |
| 84 | Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes
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| 85 | O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. | |
| 86 | Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak.
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| 87 | 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. | |
| 88 | [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey,
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| 89 | I pray you, what is't o'clock? | |
| 90 | Then there is no true lover in the forest, else sighing
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| 91 | By no means, sir. Time travels in divers paces with
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| 92 | Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the
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| 93 | With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath
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| 94 | With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly
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| 95 | With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term
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| 96 | With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of
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| 97 | As the coney that you see dwell where she is kindled. | |
| 98 | I have been told so of many; but indeed an old religious
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| 99 | There were none principal; they were all like one another
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| 100 | No; I will not cast away my physic but on those that are
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| 101 | There is none of my uncle's marks upon you; he taught me
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| 102 | A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and sunken,
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| 103 | Me believe it! You may as soon make her that you love
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| 104 | But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? | |
| 105 | Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as
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| 106 | Yes, one; and in this manner. He was to imagine me his
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| 107 | I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind, and
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| 108 | Go with me to it, and I'll show it you; and, by the way,
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| 109 | Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you
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| 110 | Never talk to me; I will weep. | |
| 111 | But have I not cause to weep? | |
| 112 | His very hair is of the dissembling colour. | |
| 113 | I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. | |
| 114 | And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of
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| 115 | But why did he swear he would come this morning, and
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| 116 | Do you think so? | |
| 117 | Not true in love? | |
| 118 | You have heard him swear downright he was. | |
| 119 | I met the Duke yesterday, and had much question with him.
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| 120 | O, come, let us remove!
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| 121 | [Advancing] And why, I pray you? Who might be your
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| 122 | He's fall'n in love with your foulness, and she'll fall
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| 123 | I pray you do not fall in love with me,
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| 124 | They say you are a melancholy fellow. | |
| 125 | Those that are in extremity of either are abominable
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| 126 | Why then, 'tis good to be a post. | |
| 127 | A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be
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| 128 | And your experience makes you sad. I had rather have a
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| 129 | Farewell, Monsieur Traveller; look you lisp and wear
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| 130 | Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a
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| 131 | Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight. I had
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| 132 | Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries
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| 133 | Why, horns; which such as you are fain to be beholding to
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| 134 | And I am your Rosalind. | |
| 135 | Come, woo me, woo me; for now I am in a holiday humour,
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| 136 | Nay, you were better speak first; and when you were
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| 137 | Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new
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| 138 | Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress; or I
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| 139 | Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit.
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| 140 | Well, in her person, I say I will not have you. | |
| 141 | No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six
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| 142 | By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I
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| 143 | Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays, and all. | |
| 144 | Ay, and twenty such. | |
| 145 | Are you not good? | |
| 146 | Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come,
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| 147 | You must begin 'Will you, Orlando'- | |
| 148 | Ay, but when? | |
| 149 | Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.' | |
| 150 | I might ask you for your commission; but- I do take thee,
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| 151 | Now tell me how long you would have her, after you have
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| 152 | Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are
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| 153 | By my life, she will do as I do. | |
| 154 | Or else she could not have the wit to do this. The wiser,
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| 155 | Nay, you might keep that check for it, till you met your
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| 156 | Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never
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| 157 | Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours! | |
| 158 | Ay, go your ways, go your ways. I knew what you would
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| 159 | By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and
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| 160 | Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such
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| 161 | O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst
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| 162 | No; that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of
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| 163 | How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock?
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| 164 | Patience herself would startle at this letter,
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| 165 | Come, come, you are a fool,
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| 166 | Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style;
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| 167 | She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes.                                                 [Reads]
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| 168 | 'Why, thy godhead laid apart,
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| 169 | Do you pity him? No, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love
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| 170 | I am. What must we understand by this? | |
| 171 | But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,
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| 172 | Was't you he rescu'd? | |
| 173 | But for the bloody napkin? | |
| 174 | I would I were at home. | |
| 175 | I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think
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| 176 | Counterfeit, I assure you. | |
| 177 | So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by
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| 178 | I shall devise something; but, I pray you, commend my
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| 179 | God save you, brother. | |
| 180 | O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear
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| 181 | I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a
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| 182 | Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon
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| 183 | O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never
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| 184 | Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for
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| 185 | I will weary you, then, no longer with idle talking. Know
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| 186 | By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I
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| 187 | I care not if I have. It is my study
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| 188 | And I for no woman. | |
| 189 | And I for no woman. | |
| 190 | And so am I for no woman. | |
| 191 | Why do you speak too, 'Why blame you me to love you?' | |
| 192 | Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish
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| 193 | Patience once more, whiles our compact is urg'd:
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| 194 | And you say you will have her when I bring her? | |
| 195 | You say you'll marry me, if I be willing? | |
| 196 | But if you do refuse to marry me,
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| 197 | You say that you'll have Phebe, if she will? | |
| 198 | I have promis'd to make all this matter even.
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| 199 | [To DUKE] To you I give myself, for I am yours.
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| 200 | I'll have no father, if you be not he;
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| 201 | It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but
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