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  • Title: Love's Labor's Lost (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Timothy Billings

  • Copyright Timothy Billings. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Timothy Billings
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Love's Labor's Lost (Folio 1, 1623)

    Loues Labour's lost
    Ber. I know you did.
    Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question?
    Ber. You must not be so quicke.
    Rosa. 'Tis long of you yt spur me with such questions.
    615Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.
    Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire.
    Ber. What time a day?
    Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske.
    Ber. Now faire befall your maske.
    620Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers.
    Ber. And send you many louers.
    Rosa. Amen, so you be none.
    Ber. Nay then will I be gone.
    Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
    625The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
    Being but th'one halfe, of an intire summe,
    Disbursed by my father in his warres.
    But say that he, or we, as neither haue
    Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid
    630A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which,
    One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs,
    Although not valued to the moneys worth.
    If then the King your father will restore
    But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied,
    635We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine,
    And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie:
    But that it seemes he little purposeth,
    For here he doth demand to haue repaie,
    An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands
    640One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
    To haue his title liue in Aquitaine.
    Which we much rather had depart withall,
    And haue the money by our father lent,
    Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is.
    645Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre
    From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make
    A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my brest,
    And goe well satisfied to France againe.
    Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong,
    650And wrong the reputation of your name,
    In so vnseeming to confesse receyt
    Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid.
    Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it,
    And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
    655Or yeeld vp Aquitaine.
    Prin. We arrest your word:
    Boyet, you can produce acquittances
    For such a summe, from speciall Officers,
    Of Charles his Father.
    660Kin. Satisfie me so.
    Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come
    Where that and other specialties are bound,
    To morrow you shall haue a sight of them.
    Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview,
    665All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto:
    Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand,
    As honour, without breach of Honour may
    Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse.
    You may not come faire Princesse in my gates,
    670But heere without you shall be so receiu'd,
    As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart,
    Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house:
    Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell,
    To morrow we shall visit you againe.
    675Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace.
    Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place.
    Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart.
    La. Ro. Pray you doe my commendations,
    I would be glad to see it.
    680Boy. I would you heard it grone.
    La. Ro. Is the soule sicke?
    Boy. Sicke at the heart.
    La. Ro. Alacke, let it bloud.
    Boy. Would that doe it good?
    685La. Ro. My Phisicke saies I.
    Boy. Will you prick't with your eye.
    La. Ro. No poynt, with my knife.
    Boy. Now God saue thy life.
    La. Ro. And yours from long liuing.
    690Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing.

    Enter Dumane.
    Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same?
    Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name.
    Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well.
    695Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?
    Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light.
    Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name.
    Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe,
    To desire that were a shame.
    700Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter?
    Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard.
    Long. Gods blessing a your beard.
    Boy. Good sir be not offended,
    Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge.
    705Long. Nay, my choller is ended:
    Shee is a most sweet Lady.
    Exit. Long.
    Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be.

    Enter Beroune.
    Ber. What's her name in the cap.
    710Boy. Katherine by good hap.
    Ber. Is she wedded, or no.
    Boy. To her will sir, or so.
    Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew.
    Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you.
    715La. Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord.
    Not a word with him, but a iest.
    Boy. And euery iest but a word.
    Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word.
    Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord.
    720La. Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie:
    And wherefore not Ships?
    Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your
    La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest?
    Boy. So you grant pasture for me.
    725La. Not so gentle beast.
    My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be.
    Bo. Belonging to whom?
    La. To my fortunes and me.
    Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree.
    730This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed
    On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd.
    Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies
    By the hearts still rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes)
    Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected.
    735Prin. With what?
    Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected.
    Prin. Your reason.
    Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire,
    To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire.
    740His hart like an Agot with your print impressed,