Original: ‘By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible;
Modern: I swear by heaven, it’s absolutely certain that you’re beautiful;

Original: true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely.
Modern: it’s true that you’re gorgeous; it’s the honest truth that you’re lovely.

Original: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal!
Modern: You’re more than fair, more than beautiful, more real than truth itself—please have pity on your heroic servant!

Original: The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon;
Modern: The generous and most famous King Cophetua laid eyes upon the poor and certain beggar Zenelophon;

Original: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici;
Modern: and he was the one who could truly say, “I came, I saw, I conquered”;

Original: which to annothanize in the vulgar,–O base and obscure vulgar!–videlicet,
Modern: which to translate into common language—oh, lowly and crude common language!—that is to say,

Original: He came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw two; overcame, three.
Modern: He came, saw, and conquered: he came, that’s one; saw, that’s two; conquered, that’s three.

Original: Who came? the king: why did he come? to see: why did he see? to overcome:
Modern: Who came? The king. Why did he come? To see. Why did he see? To conquer.

Original: to whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the beggar: who overcame he? the beggar.
Modern: To whom did he come? To the beggar. What did he see? The beggar. Who did he conquer? The beggar.

Original: The conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king’s.
Modern: The result is victory: whose victory? The king’s.

Original: The captive is enriched: on whose side? the beggar’s.
Modern: The one captured is made rich: who is that? The beggar.

Original: The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose side? the king’s: no, on both in one, or one in both.
Modern: The final outcome is a wedding: for whom? The king’s—no, for both together, or both as one.

Original: I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness.
Modern: I am the king in this comparison; you are the beggar, as your humble position proves.

Original: Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I will.
Modern: Should I order you to love me? I could. Should I force you to love me? I’m able to. Should I beg for your love? I will.

Original: What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thyself? me.
Modern: What will you trade your rags for? Fine robes. Your worthlessness for? Noble titles. Yourself for? Me.

Original: Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture. and my heart on thy every part.
Modern: So, while waiting for your answer, I humbly kiss your foot with my lips, gaze at your picture with my eyes, and give my heart to every part of you.

Original: Thine, in the dearest design of industry, DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.’
Modern: Yours, with the most devoted and hardworking effort, DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.

Original: Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
Modern: This is how you hear the mighty lion roar

Original: ‘Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey.
Modern: at you, little lamb, who stands there as his prey.

Original: Submissive fall his princely feet before,
Modern: If you humbly fall down before his royal feet,

Original: And he from forage will incline to play:
Modern: he’ll stop hunting and be inclined to play gently with you:

Original: But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Modern: But if you resist, poor thing, what will you become?

Original: Food for his rage, repasture for his den.
Modern: Food for his anger, a meal to be eaten in his den.

In Act IV, Scene 1 of “Love’s Labour’s Lost,” the Princess of France and her ladies are hunting in the park when Costard arrives with a letter from Armado intended for Jaquenetta, but he mistakenly delivers Berowne’s love letter to Rosaline instead. The Princess and her ladies engage in witty banter about hunting and archery, with much wordplay about hitting marks and targets. Boyet reads Berowne’s sonnet aloud, which reveals the young lord’s infatuation with Rosaline, much to the amusement of the ladies. They mock the florid poetry and Berowne’s attempt at wooing through verse, with Rosaline declaring she would rather hear her dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves her.

The scene continues with the arrival of Costard again, this time correctly delivering Armado’s letter to Jaquenetta, though she cannot read it herself. The ladies send Jaquenetta to have the letter read by one of the scholars. Throughout the scene, the women demonstrate their sharp wit and intelligence, teasing Boyet about his flattery and maintaining control of every verbal exchange. The discovery of Berowne’s secret love letter sets in motion the exposure of the lords’ broken vows of study and abstinence from women’s company, as the ladies now possess evidence of at least one lord’s surrender to romantic feelings.

“Love’s Labour’s Lost” opens with Ferdinand, the King of Navarre, and his three courtiers—Berowne, Longaville, and Dumain—taking a solemn oath to dedicate three years to scholarly pursuits while forswearing the company of women, fasting, and sleeping only three hours per night. Their noble intentions are immediately complicated by the arrival of the Princess of France and her three attending ladies—Rosaline, Maria, and Katharine—who come on a diplomatic mission regarding Aquitaine. Despite their vows, all four men quickly fall in love with the visiting ladies, though they initially attempt to hide their feelings from one another.

The romantic complications intensify when each man tries to secretly woo his chosen lady while believing himself to be the only oath-breaker. Comic relief is provided by a cast of eccentric characters including Don Armado, a bombastic Spanish knight who loves the country wench Jaquenetta; Costard, a simple clown; and the pedantic schoolmaster Holofernes. The ladies, aware of the men’s affections, decide to test their suitors’ sincerity by disguising themselves at a masque, leading to a delightful scene of mistaken identities where each man woos the wrong woman.

The play builds toward what seems like a conventional comic resolution with multiple betrothals, but Shakespeare subverts expectations in the final act. News arrives that the Princess’s father, the King of France, has died, casting a somber shadow over the festivities. The ladies impose a year-long trial on their suitors—the men must prove their love’s constancy through a period of good works and patient waiting. The play concludes unusually for a Shakespearean comedy, with promises of future union rather than immediate marriages, ending with the famous songs of Spring and Winter that celebrate the eternal cycle of seasons and human nature.