Loves Labours Lost

Love’s tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste. For valor, is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as Sphinx, as sweet and musical As bright Apollo’s lute strung with his hair. And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink... See more

How needless was it then To ask the question.

Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise. Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, Not uttered by base sale of chapmen’s tongues

Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possible devise.

Well, say I am. Why should proud summer boast Before the birds have any cause to sing? Why should I joy in any abortive birth?

Study is like the heaven’s glorious sun,

O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.