Love's Labor's Lost Written By: William Shakespeare

I, forsooth in love! that have love' whip, A very beadle to a humorous sigh, A critic, nay,

a night-watch constable, a domineering pendant o'er the boy, Than whom no mortal

so magnificent! This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, This senior-junior,

giant-dwarf, Dan cuid, Regent of love rhymes, lord of folded arms, Th' anointed

sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of

plackets, king of codpieces, Sole imperators and great general of trotting paritors

__ O my little heart! __ And I to be a corporal of his field, And wear his colors like

a tumbler's hoop! What! I love, I sue, I seek a wife? A women, that is like German

clock, still a-repairing, ever out of frame, and never going aright, being a watch, But

being watch'd that it may still go right? Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all, A

whitely wanton with a velvet brow, with two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;

Ay, and, by Heaven, one that will do the deed Though Argus were her eunuch and her

guard. And I to sigh for her, to watch for her, to pray for her! Go to! It is a plague That

cupid will impose for myneglect of his almighty dread little might. Well, I will love,

write, sigh, pray, sue, groan: Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.