1595 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST
Page: 33

A green goose a goddess- pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend! We are much out o' th' way.

Enter DUMAIN, with a paper

LONGAVILLE. By whom shall I send this?- Company! Stay.
[Steps aside]
BEROWNE. 'All hid, all hid'- an old infant play.
Like a demigod here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye.
More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!
Dumain transformed! Four woodcocks in a dish!
DUMAIN. O most divine Kate!
BEROWNE. O most profane coxcomb!
DUMAIN. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!
BEROWNE. By earth, she is not, corporal: there you lie.
DUMAIN. Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.
BEROWNE. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
DUMAIN. As upright as the cedar.
BEROWNE. Stoop, I say;
Her shoulder is with child.
DUMAIN. As fair as day.
BEROWNE. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
DUMAIN. O that I had my wish!
LONGAVILLE. And I had mine!
KING. And I mine too, good Lord!
BEROWNE. Amen, so I had mine! Is not that a good word?
DUMAIN. I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will rememb'red be.
BEROWNE. A fever in your blood? Why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers. Sweet misprision!
DUMAIN. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
BEROWNE. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
DUMAIN. [Reads]
'On a day-alack the day!-
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air.
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, can passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
"Air," quoth he "thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn;
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me
That I am forsworn for thee;
Thou for whom Jove would swear