Love's Labor's Lost (Quarto 1, 1598)
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¶The Sea will ebb and flow, heauen shew his face:
1565Young blood doth not obay an olde decree.
¶That (like a rude and sauadge man of Inde.)
1575What peromptorie 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 culd soueraigntie,
¶Do meete as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
1585Where seuerall worthies make one dignitie,
¶Lend me the florish of all gentle tongues,
¶Fie paynted Rethoricke, O shee needes it not,
¶A witherd Hermight fiuescore winters worne,
¶Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye:
¶Beautie doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
¶And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie.
1595O tis the Sunne that maketh all thinges shine.
¶King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie.
¶Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word deuine!
¶A wife of such wood were felicitie.
¶O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke?
1600That I may sweare Beautie doth beautie lacke,
¶If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
¶No face is fayre that is not full so blacke.
King
called Loues Labor's lost.
