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Love's Labour's Lost
·V ii 493 ·
Verse
Berowne Neither of either; I remit both twain. I see the trick on't: here was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas comedy: Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick To make my lady laugh when she's disposed, Told our intents before; which once disclosed, The ladies did change favours: and then we, Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. Now, to our perjury to add more terror, We are again forsworn, in will and error. Much upon this it is: and might not you [To BOYET] Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady's foot by the squier, And laugh upon the apple of her eye? And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? You put our page out: go, you are allow'd; Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye Wounds like a leaden sword. |
Original: Neither of either; I remit both twain.
Modern: I choose neither one; I reject them both.
Original: I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,
Modern: I see the scheme now: there was an agreement,
Original: Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
Modern: When they knew in advance about our fun and games,
Original: To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Modern: To ruin it like spoiling a holiday play:
Original: Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Modern: Some gossip, some flatterer, some minor fool,
Original: Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
Modern: Some news-spreader, some servant who waits at table, some random guy,
Original: That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick
Modern: Who has smiled so much his face is creased, and knows how
Original: To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,
Modern: To make my lady laugh when she’s in the mood,
Original: Told our intents before; which once disclosed,
Modern: Told them our plans beforehand; and once this was revealed,
Original: The ladies did change favours: and then we,
Modern: The ladies switched their masks and tokens: and then we,
Original: Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.
Modern: Following the disguises, courted only the appearance of her.
Original: Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
Modern: Now, to make our broken promises even worse,
Original: We are again forsworn, in will and error.
Modern: We’ve broken our word twice, both intentionally and by mistake.
Original: Much upon this it is: and might not you
Modern: That’s pretty much what happened: and couldn’t you
Original: Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Modern: Have sabotaged our entertainment to make us look like liars?
Original: Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,
Modern: Don’t you know my lady’s every move perfectly,
Original: And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
Modern: And laugh at whatever she looks at with delight?
Original: And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Modern: And stand behind her, sir, near the fireplace,
Original: Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
Modern: Holding a serving plate, joking around cheerfully?
Original: You put our page out: go, you are allow’d;
Modern: You’ve upstaged us completely: go ahead, you have permission;
Original: Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
Modern: Whenever you die, a woman’s dress will be your burial cloth.
Original: You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye
Modern: You’re smirking at me, are you? That’s a look
Original: Wounds like a leaden sword.
Modern: That cuts like a blunt, harmless weapon.
In this final section of Act V, Scene ii of “Love’s Labour’s Lost,” Marcade arrives with grave news that the Princess of France’s father, the King, has died. This somber announcement abruptly halts the festive entertainments and merriment that have dominated the scene. The Princess immediately prepares to depart for France, and the four lords—the King of Navarre, Berowne, Longaville, and Dumaine—attempt to press their suits of love one final time before the ladies leave. However, the ladies, led by the Princess, impose a test upon their suitors: each man must wait one year before they can renew their vows of love.
The Princess instructs the King that he must spend a year in a “forlorn and naked hermitage,” remote from worldly pleasures, after which she will consider his suit. Rosaline tells Berowne he must spend a year visiting the sick and afflicted, using his wit to bring comfort rather than mockery. Katharine and Maria give similar conditions to Longaville and Dumaine respectively. The men reluctantly agree to these terms, though Berowne protests the difficulty of his task. The play concludes with the songs of Ver (Spring) and Hiems (Winter), performed by the rustic characters, after which Armado announces that the show is ended. The couples part with the understanding that they will meet again in a year’s time to see if their love has proven constant.
“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.