Love's Labor's Lost (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone.
¶Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare,
¶They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch,
¶pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee
¶I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this
1340Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a
¶if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by
¶this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for
¶her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye,
1345and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath
¶taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is
¶part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she
¶hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the
¶a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a
¶paper, God giue him grace to grone.
¶Kin. Ay mee!
¶thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith
¶secrets.
¶The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
¶As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
¶No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
¶So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
¶Do but behold the teares that swell in me,
¶And they thy glory through my griefe will show:
1370But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe
¶O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell,
¶No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
1375Sweet leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere?
¶What Longauill, and reading: listen eare.
1380Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers.
¶Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name.
¶Disfigure not his Shop.
¶
Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye,
¶'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
¶A Woman I forswore, but I will proue,
¶My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue.
1400Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
¶Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is.
¶Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is:
¶If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
¶God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th'way.
1410
Enter Dumaine.
¶Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,
¶And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.
1415More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish,
¶Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye.
¶Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted.
¶Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted.
¶Dum. As vpright as the Cedar.
1425Dum. As faire as day.
¶Lon. And I had mine.
¶Kin. And mine too good Lord.
¶Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be.
1435Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ.
¶Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit.
¶
Dumane reades his Sonnet.
¶
On a day, alack the day:
¶Loue, whose Month is euery May,
¶Playing in the wanton ayre:
¶Through the Veluet, leaues the winde,
¶That the Louer sicke to death,
¶Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe,
¶Ayre, would I might triumph so.
¶But alacke my hand is sworne,
¶Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:
1450Vow alacke for youth vnmeete,
¶Doe not call it sinne in me,
¶That I am forsworne for thee.
¶Thou for whom Ioue would sweare,
1455Iuno but an Aethiop were,
¶And denie himselfe for Ioue.
¶Turning mortall for thy Loue.
1460O would the King, Berowne and Longauill,
¶Were Louers too, ill to example ill,
¶Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note:
¶For none offend, where all alike doe dote.
¶Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie,
¶To be ore-heard, and taken napping so.
¶You chide at him, offending twice as much.
1470You doe not loue Maria? Longauile,
¶Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile;
¶Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart
¶His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart.
1475And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
¶Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries!
¶On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes.
1480You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth,
¶And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath.
1485How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?
¶For all the wealth that euer I did see,
¶I would not haue him know so much by me.
¶Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.
1490Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
¶Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.
¶You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:
¶But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
¶All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
¶You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:
¶But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.
1500O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.
¶To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
1505And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge?
¶And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes.
¶Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine;
¶And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine?
1510And where my Liedges? all about the brest:
¶A Candle hoa!
¶Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view?
¶Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you.
¶To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
¶I am betrayed by keeping company
¶With men, like men of inconstancie.
1520Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time,
¶a waste, a legge, a limme.
1525A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so.
¶
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.
¶Kin. If it marre nothing neither,
¶The treason and you goe in peace away together.
¶Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
¶Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not
¶feare it.
¶heare it.
¶Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name.
¶to doe me shame.
¶Kin. What?
¶Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make
¶He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I,
¶Dum. Now the number is euen.
¶be gone?
¶As true we are as flesh and bloud can be,
¶The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face:
1565Young bloud doth not obey an old decree.
¶thine?
¶That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.)
1575What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye
¶Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow,
¶That is not blinded by her maiestie?
¶My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone,
¶Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.
¶O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night,
¶Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty,
¶Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
1585Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity,
¶Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,
¶Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not,
¶A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne,
¶Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
¶Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
¶And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
1595O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine.
¶King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie.
¶Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine?
¶A wife of such wood were felicitie.
¶O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
1600That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke,
¶If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
¶No face is faire that is not full so blacke.
¶Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell,
¶The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night:
1605And beauties crest becomes the heauens well.
¶O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
¶It mournes, that painting vsurping haire
1610And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire.
¶Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
¶For natiue bloud is counted painting now:
¶Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow.
¶Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light.
¶Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day.
¶Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here.
¶Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.
¶Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue?
¶Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue
¶Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne.
¶Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell.
¶Ber. O 'tis more then neede.
1640Haue at you then affections men at armes,
1645And abstinence ingenders maladies.
¶And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords)
¶In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke.
¶Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke.
¶For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
1650Haue found the ground of studies excellence,
¶Without the beauty of a womans face;
¶From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue,
¶They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
¶From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
¶The nimble spirits in the arteries,
¶As motion and long during action tyres
¶The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer.
¶Now for not looking on a womans face,
¶For where is any Author in the world,
¶Teaches such beauty as a womans eye:
¶Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,
1665And where we are, our Learning likewise is.
¶With our selues.
¶O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords,
1670And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes:
¶For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you?
¶In leaden contemplation haue found out
¶Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,
¶Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with:
1675Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine:
¶And therefore finding barraine practizers,
¶But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes,
¶Liues not alone emured in the braine:
1680But with the motion of all elements,
¶And giues to euery power a double power,
¶Aboue their functions and their offices.
¶It addes a precious seeing to the eye:
1685A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.
¶Then are the tender hornes of Cockled Snayles.
¶For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?
¶Still climing trees in the Hesporides.
¶As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.
1695And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
¶Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
¶Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
¶Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes:
1700And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
¶From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
¶They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,
1705Else none at all in ought proues excellent.
¶Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
¶Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.
¶Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men.
¶It is religion to be thus forsworne.
1715For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law:
¶And who can seuer loue from Charity.
¶Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field.
¶Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd,
1720In conflict that you get the Sunne of them.
¶Some entertainment for them in their Tents.
¶Then homeward euery man attach the hand
1730For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres,
¶Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres.
¶That will be time, and may by vs be fitted.
¶Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne,
Exeunt.
