Love's Labour's Lost

Berowne:
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They are the ground, the books, the academes, from whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. O, we have made a vow to study, lords, and in that vow we have forsworn our books; For when would you, my liege, or you, or you in leaden contemplation have found out such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes of beauty's tutors have enriched you with? Other slow arts entirely keep the brain, and therefore, finding barren practisers, scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil; But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, lives not alone immured in the brain but with the motion of all elements courses as swift as thought in every power and gives to every power a double power, above their functions and their offices. It adds a precious seeing to the eye: A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind. A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound. Love's feeling is more soft and sensible than are the tender horns of cockled snails. Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste, for valour, 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. Heaven. I'm in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...

Boyet:
If my observation, which very seldom lies by the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, deceived me not now, Navarre is infected.

The Princess:
With what?

Boyet:
With that which we lovers entitle affected.

The Princess:
Your reason?

Boyet:
His face's own margin did quote such amazes that all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. I'll give you Aquitaine, and all that is his, an you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.

The Princess:
Come, to our pavilion. Boyet is disposed.

Boyet:
But to speak that in words which his eyes hath disclosed. I only have made a mouth of his eye by adding a tongue which I know will not lie.

Rosaline:
Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest skilfully.

Boyet:
Do you hear, my mad wenches?

Maria:
No.

Boyet:
What then, do you see?

Maria:
Ay,^Åour way to be gone.

Boyet:
You are too hard for me.

Longaville:
Pray you sir, whose daughters?

Boyet:
Their mothers', I have heard.

Costard:
Pray you, who is the head lady?

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

Costard:
But what is the greatest lady, the highest?

Princess:
The thickest and the tallest.

Berowne:
Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain.

King Ferdinand of Navarre, The:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; our court shall be a little Academe, still and contemplative in living art.

King Ferdinand of Navarre, The:
How well he's read, to reason against reading.

King Ferdinand of Navarre, The:
Now, at the latest minute of the hour, grant us your loves.

Princess of France, The:
A time, methinks, too short to make a world-without-end bargain in.

Berowne:
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Rosaline:
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Berowne:
I know you did.

Rosaline:
How needless was it, then, to ask the question.

Katherine:
Come when the king doth to my lady come. And if I have much love... I'll give you some.

The Princess:
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.

Costard:
O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon.