Reading Loues Labour's lost — William Shakespeare

Direct reading · Original

Section 582

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Bero.

Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.

Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.

Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue

These wormes for louing, that art most in loue?

Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.

There is no certaine Princesse that appeares.

You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:

Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.

But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not

All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?

You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:

But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.

O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.

Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene:

O me, with what strict patience haue I sat,

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