What do you like about the ISE? What could we do better? Please tell us in this 10-minute survey!

Start Survey

Internet Shakespeare Editions

Become a FriendSign in


Jump to line
Help on texts

About this text

  • Title: Love's Labor's Lost (Quarto 1, 1598)
  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 (Quarto 1, 1598)

    A pleasant conceited Comedie:

    In pruning mee when shall you heare that I will prayse a
    hand, a foote, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
    a wast, a legge, a limme.
    King. Soft, Whither a way so fast?
    1525A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so.
    Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go.
    Iaqu. God blesse the King.Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.
    King. What present hast thou there?
    1530Clow. Some certaine treason.
    King. What makes treason heere?
    Clow. Nay it makes nothing sir.
    King. Yf it marr nothing neither,
    The treason and you goe in peace away togeather.
    1535Iaque. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,
    Our person misdoubts it: twas treason he said.
    King. Berowne reade it ouer. He reades the letter.
    King. Where hadst thou it?
    Iaqu. Of Costard.
    1540King. Where hadst thou it?
    Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
    Kin. How now, What is in you? Why dost thou teare it?
    Ber. A toy my Leedge, a toy: your grace needs not feare it.
    1545Long. It did moue him to passion, & therfore lets heare it.
    Dum. It is Berownes writing, and heere is his name.
    Berow. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to
    do me shame.
    1550Guiltie my Lord, guiltie: I confesse, I confesse.
    King. What?
    Ber. That you three fooles, lackt me foole, to make vp the (messe.
    Hee, hee, and you: and you my Leege, and I,
    1555Are pick-purses in Loue, and we deserue to die.
    O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more.
    Duma. Now the number is euen.
    Bero. True true, we are fower: will these turtles be gon?
    1560King. Hence sirs, away.
    Clow. Walke aside the true folke, and let the traytors stay.
    Ber. Sweete Lords, sweete Louers, O let vs imbrace,
    As true we are as flesh and blood can be,