OBSERVATIONS.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.] I have not hitherto discovered any novel on which this comedy appears to have been founded; and yet the story of it has most of the features of an ancient romance. STEEVENS.

I suspect that there is an error in the title of this play, which, I believe, should be-" Love's Labours Lost." M. MASON.

Love's Labour's Lost, I conjecture to have been written in 1594. See An Attempt to ascertain the Order of Shakespeare's Plays, Vol. II.

MALONE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

FERDINAND, King of Navarre.

BIRON,

LONGAVILLE, lords, attending on the King.

DUMAIN,

BOYET,

MERCADE,

lords, attending on the Princess of France.

Don ADRIANO DE ARMADO, a fantastical Spaniard.
Sir NATHANIEL, a curate.

HOLOFERNES, a schoolmaster.

DULL, a constable.

COSTARD, a clown.

MOTH, page to Armado.

A Forester.

Officers and others, attendants on the King and Princess.

SCENE.-Navarre.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—Navarre. A Park, with a Palace in it. Enter the King, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN.

King.

LET fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring time,
Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.

Therefore, brave conquerors!--for so you are,
That war against your own affections,

And the huge army of the world's desires,-
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;
Our court shall be a little Academe ;
Still and contemplative in living art.

You three, Birón, Dumain, and Longaville,

Have sworn for three years' term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes,
That are recorded in this schedule here:

Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names;
That his own hand may strike his honour down,
That violates the smallest branch herein:

If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oath, and keep it too.
Long. I am resolv'd: 'tis but a three years' fast
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine.
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bank'rout quite the wits.
Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified;
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves: