Loves Labour Lost by William Shakespeare
page 8 of 128 (06%)
page 8 of 128 (06%)
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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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