Page:Love's Labour's Lost (1925) Yale.djvu/70

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Jaq. Of Costard.

King. Where hadst thou it?

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

[Berowne tears the letter.]

King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?

Ber. A toy, my liege, a toy: your Grace needs not fear it.

Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.

Dum. [Picking up the pieces.] It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name.

Ber. [To Costard.] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.

Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess.

King. What?

Ber. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess;

He, he, and you, and you my liege, and I,

Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.

O dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.

Dum. Now the number is even.

Ber. True, true; we are four.

Will these turtles be gone?

King. Hence, sirs; away!

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.

[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta.]

Ber. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O! let us embrace.

As true we are as flesh and blood can be:

The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face;

 207 mess: four persons at one table

212 turtles: turtle-doves, lovers

sirs; cf. n.

