Reading Loues Labour's lost — William Shakespeare

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Section 537

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Bero.

The King he is hunting the Deare,

I am coursing my selfe.

They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch,

pitch that

defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee

downe sorrow; for

so they say the foole said, and so say

I, and I the foole: Well

proued wit. By the Lord this

Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a

sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue;

I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by

this light,

but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for

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