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  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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:

    King. What meane you Madame: by my life my troth,
    2390I neuer swore this Lady such an oth.
    Rosal. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine,
    You gaue me this: but take it sir againe.
    King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue,
    I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue.
    2395Quee. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare,
    And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.
    What? will you haue me, or your Pearle againe?
    Berow. Neither of either: I remit both twaine.
    I see the tricke ant: here was a consent,
    2400Knowing aforehand of our meriment,
    To dash it lik a Christmas Comedie:
    Some carry tale, some please-man, some sleight saine:
    Some mumble newes, some trencher Knight, some Dick
    That smyles, his cheeke in yeeres, and knowes the trick
    2405To make my Lady laugh, when shees disposd:
    Tolde our intentes before: which once disclosd,
    The Ladies did change Fauours; and then wee
    Folowing the signes, wood but the signe of shee,
    Now to our periurie, to add more terror,
    2410We are againe forsworne in will and error.
    Much vpon this tis: and might not you
    Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?
    Do not you know my Ladies foote by'th squier?
    And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
    2415And stand betweene her backe sir and the fier,
    Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
    You put our Page out: goe, you are aloude.
    Die when you will, a Smocke shalbe your shroude.
    You leere vpon me, do you: ther's an eie
    2420Woundes like a leaden sword.
    Boyet. Full merely hath this braue nuage, this carreere
    bin run.
    Bero. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don.
    Enter Clowne.
    2425Ber. Welcome pure wit, thou partst a faire fray.
    Clow. O Lord sir, they would know,