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Loves Labour Lost by William Shakespeare
page 63 of 128 (49%)

Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play,
Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie,
And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye.
More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish,
Dumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a dish

Dum. O most diuine Kate

Bero. O most prophane coxcombe

Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye

Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye

Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted

Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted

Dum. As vpright as the Cedar

Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child

Dum. As faire as day

Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine

Dum. O that I had my wish?
Lon. And I had mine

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