Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ros. That I did suite me all points like a man,
Ros. A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh,
Ros. A bore‑speare in my hand, and in my heart
Ros. Lye there what hidden womans feare there will,
Ros. Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside,
Ros. As manie other mannish cowards haue,
Ros. That doe outface it with their semblances.
Cel. Cel.
Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
Ros. Ros.
Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page,
Ros. And therefore looke you call me Ganimed.
Ros. But what will you be call'd?
Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state:
Cel. No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale
Ros. The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court:
Ros. Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile?