Internet Shakespeare Editions


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    Not Peer Reviewed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:

    And holde faire faiendship with his Maiestie,
    But that it seemes he little purposeth:
    For here he doth pemaund to haue repaide,
    A hundred thousand Crownes, and not demaunds
    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 Aquitaine, so guelded as it is.
    645Deare Princesse were not his requestes so farr
    From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make
    A yeelding gainst some reason in my brest,
    And go well satisfied to France againe.
    Prin. You do the King my father too much wrong,
    650And wrong the reputation of your name,
    In so vnseeming to confesse receit,
    Of that which hath so faithfully been paide.
    Ferd. I do protest I neuer heard of it:
    And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe,
    655Or yeelde vp Aquitaine.
    Princ. We arrest your worde.
    Boyet you can produce acquittances,
    For such a summe from spciall officers,
    Of Charles his father.
    660Ferd. Satisfie mee 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.
    Ferd. It shall suffise me; at which enteruiew,
    665All liberall reason I will yeelde vnto.
    Meane time receiue such welcome at my hand,
    As honor (without breach of honor) may,
    Make tender of to thy true worthines.
    You may not come (faire Princesse) within my gates,
    670But here without you shalbe so receiude,
    As you shall deeme your selfe lodgd in my hart.
    Though so denide faire harbour in my house,
    Your owne good thoughtes excuse me, and farewell.