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Loves Labour Lost by William Shakespeare
page 8 of 128 (06%)
That hath a mint of phrases in his braine:
One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue,
Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie:
A man of complements whom right and wrong
Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie.
This childe of fancie that Armado hight,
For interim to our studies shall relate,
In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight:
From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate.
How you delight my Lords, I know not I,
But I protest I loue to heare him lie,
And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie

Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight

Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport,
And so to studie, three yeeres is but short.
Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter.

Const. Which is the Dukes owne person

Ber. This fellow, What would'st?
Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am
his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own person
in flesh and blood

Ber. This is he

Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you:
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