Speeches (Lines) for Princess of France
in "Love's Labour's Lost"
Total: 102

1

II,1,497

Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues:
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker: good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall outwear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor.
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace:
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.

2

II,1,520

All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.
[Exit BOYET]
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?

3

II,1,525

Know you the man?

4

II,1,538

Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?

5

II,1,540

Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?

6

II,1,563

God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?

7

II,1,568

Now, what admittance, lord?

8

II,1,581

'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I have
not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be
yours; and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.

9

II,1,585

I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither.

10

II,1,587

Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.

11

II,1,589

Why, will shall break it; will and nothing else.

12

II,1,591

Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it.
But pardon me. I am too sudden-bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

13

II,1,601

You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay.

14

II,1,643

You do the king my father too much wrong
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.

15

II,1,650

We arrest your word.
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum from special officers
Of Charles his father.

16

II,1,669

Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!

17

II,1,713

It was well done of you to take him at his word.

18

II,1,725

Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree:
This civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused.

19

II,1,731

With what?

20

II,1,733

Your reason?

21

II,1,750

Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed.

22

IV,1,972

Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?

23

IV,1,975

Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind.
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch:
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murderer in?

24

IV,1,982

I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.

25

IV,1,985

What, what? first praise me and again say no?
O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe!

26

IV,1,988

Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.

27

IV,1,993

See see, my beauty will be saved by merit!
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
And out of question so it is sometimes,
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.

28

IV,1,1011

Only for praise: and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.

29

IV,1,1016

Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

30

IV,1,1018

The thickest and the tallest.

31

IV,1,1023

What's your will, sir? what's your will?

32

IV,1,1025

O, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend of mine:
Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.

33

IV,1,1031

We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.

34

IV,1,1069

What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

35

IV,1,1072

Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.

36

IV,1,1076

Thou fellow, a word:
Who gave thee this letter?

37

IV,1,1079

To whom shouldst thou give it?

38

IV,1,1081

From which lord to which lady?

39

IV,1,1084

Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
[To ROSALINE]
Here, sweet, put up this: 'twill be thine another day.

40

V,2,1881

Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
A lady wall'd about with diamonds!
Look you what I have from the loving king.

41

V,2,1886

Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme
As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.

42

V,2,1909

Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
But Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?

43

V,2,1920

Any thing like?

44

V,2,1922

Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.

45

V,2,1928

But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

46

V,2,1930

Did he not send you twain?

47

V,2,1937

I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
The chain were longer and the letter short?

48

V,2,1940

We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

49

V,2,1951

None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,
As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.

50

V,2,1961

Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

51

V,2,1964

Thy news Boyet?

52

V,2,1971

Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.

53

V,2,2003

But what, but what, come they to visit us?

54

V,2,2010

And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd;
For, ladies, we shall every one be mask'd;
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despite of suit, to see a lady's face.
Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the king will court thee for his dear;
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.
And change your favours too; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.

55

V,2,2022

The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:
They do it but in mocking merriment;
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages displayed, to talk and greet.

56

V,2,2030

No, to the death, we will not move a foot;
Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace,
But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face.

57

V,2,2035

Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt
The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out
There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown,
To make theirs ours and ours none but our own:
So shall we stay, mocking intended game,
And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.

58

V,2,2129

Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

59

V,2,2133

Seventh sweet, adieu:
Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.

60

V,2,2136

Let it not be sweet.

61

V,2,2138

Gall! bitter.

62

V,2,2175

Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
[Exeunt FERDINAND, Lords, and Blackamoors]
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?

63

V,2,2180

O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight?
Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces?
This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.

64

V,2,2186

Biron did swear himself out of all suit.

65

V,2,2191

Qualm, perhaps.

66

V,2,2193

Go, sickness as thou art!

67

V,2,2196

And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.

68

V,2,2203

Will they return?

69

V,2,2208

How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.

70

V,2,2212

Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?

71

V,2,2223

Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land.
[Exeunt PRINCESS, ROSALINE, KATHARINE, and MARIA]
[Re-enter FERDINAND, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN,]
in their proper habits]

72

V,2,2260

'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive.

73

V,2,2262

Then wish me better; I will give you leave.

74

V,2,2265

This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.

75

V,2,2269

You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke;
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest;
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.

76

V,2,2279

Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
We have had pastimes here and pleasant game:
A mess of Russians left us but of late.

77

V,2,2283

Ay, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.

78

V,2,2313

Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?

79

V,2,2347

No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.

80

V,2,2356

The fairest is confession.
Were not you here but even now disguised?

81

V,2,2359

And were you well advised?

82

V,2,2361

When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady's ear?

83

V,2,2364

When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

84

V,2,2366

Peace, peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

85

V,2,2369

I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

86

V,2,2375

God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth unhold his word.

87

V,2,2383

Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.
What, will you have me, or your pearl again?

88

V,2,2447

Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now:
That sport best pleases that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth.

89

V,2,2458

Doth this man serve God?

90

V,2,2460

He speaks not like a man of God's making.

91

V,2,2496

Great thanks, great Pompey.

92

V,2,2508

The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander.

93

V,2,2573

Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!

94

V,2,2607

Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.

95

V,2,2656

Welcome, Mercade;
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

96

V,2,2660

Dead, for my life!

97

V,2,2668

Boyet, prepare; I will away tonight.

98

V,2,2670

Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavors; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
The liberal opposition of our spirits,
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath: your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.

99

V,2,2717

We have received your letters full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.

100

V,2,2730

A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:
If for my love, as there is no such cause,
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about the annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine
I will be thine; and till that instant shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Neither entitled in the other's heart.

101

V,2,2815

[To FERDINAND] Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.

102

V,2,2825

Was not that Hector?