100 For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
[103] Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
[105] Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Cel. I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire
[108] And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
The like do you: so shall we pass along