Love's Labour's Lost By William Shakespeare Act IV: Scene 3

KING.
Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!

BEROWNE.
Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;
Pell-mell, down with them! be first advis'd,
In conflict that you get the sun of them.

LONGAVILLE.
Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by:
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?

KING.
And win them too; therefore let us devise
Some entertainment for them in their tents.

BEROWNE.
First, from the park let us conduct them thither;
Then homeward every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon
We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.

KING.
Away, away! No time shall be omitted,
That will betime, and may by us be fitted.

BEROWNE.
Allons! allons! Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn;
And justice always whirls in equal measure:
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn;
If so, our copper buys no better treasure.

[Exeunt.]

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