Nothing's lost - or even overlooked - in "Love's Labour's Lost," the Orlando-UCF Shakespeare Festival comedy that opened Friday at the Walt Disney Amphitheater.

It's all there - a pledge to swear off women; irresistible ladies; wooing at its silliest; hilarious misunderstandings; beautiful set, lighting and costumes; strangely accessible Shakespearean English; even the outdoor setting, on Lake Eola in downtown Orlando.

From start almost to finish, "Love's Labour's Lost" was a complete romp. Unlike the other Shakespearean comedy in the Orlando company's rotating repertory, the slapstick "A Comedy of Errors" that opened last Friday, director Dennis Delaney put the emphasis on romance in "Love's." He set it in Edwardian England, casting Ferdinand, King of Navarre (Rik Walter), and his heartthrob, the Princess of France (Jean Tafler), as stiff, arrogant upper crusters.

Their attendants, conveniently three each to allow for three more couples, goaded them on in their series of ever-more-foolish follies. First Ferdinand and his courtiers - Berowne (Eric Hissom), Longaville (Richard Width) and Dumaine (Steve Lyons) - affectedly vow to live like hermits for one year: no distractions, especially women. But just then the princess and her ladies - Rosaline (Margi Sharp), Maria (Mandi Moss) and Katherine (Mindy Anders), each lovelier than the last - arrive.

And all heck breaks loose. Annoyed at being forced to camp outside the castle walls, thanks to 

As they handily do, by switching the gifts sent by their adoring swains - necklaces, pearls, a satin purse - and wearing ornate masks at a fancy ball. They waltz, they flirt, they win words of love; then the ladies face their lovers, and demand the truth. So far, so good.
Armado wins his dairymaid, the flirty Jacquenetta (Catherine Stork), whose low-cut bustier is a running gag. The lords all end up with their true loves, who love them in turn. But then Shakespeare, whose romance is fun, funny and very, very romantic, throws in a final twist: actual isolation.

The princess learns of her father's death, a very unfunny twist in a play that had seemed to be heading straight for the altar, and asks Ferdinand for a year's separation.

Ironically, that puts him and his lords right back where they started, although now they have a promise at the end of the isolation - but only if all goes well, for all concerned. It's a terrific twist: wise and the polar opposite of the high jinks that kept "Love's Labour's Lost" moving like a giddy waltz.

Shakespeare calls him Armado the Braggart and makes him the butt of jokes: With his fantastical language and his preening manner, it's no wonder the young lovers in this romantic comedy consider him a buffoon.

But look at Don Armado as played by David Snizek in the Orlando-Shakespeare Festival's luminous new production -- gaunt figure, soulful eyes, gentle manner and generous heart -- and the wistful knight takes his rightful place at the center of this remarkable play.

As directed by Dennis Delaney, this little-seen Shakespeare romance is full of such riches, from the love-struck wit played by Eric Hissom to David Haugen's plain-spoken clown. More than that, it's full of the striking language and uncanny wisdom that make his devotees love Shakespeare, as well as the bountiful comedy that can persuade the uninitiated to check him out.

Seen along with Jim Helsinger's rollicking production of The Comedy of Errors, Love's Labour's Lost shows the Orlando festival at its best -- producing beguiling entertainment that remains true to Shakespeare's spirit. It's by far the most pleasurable spring season the 11-year-old festival has had.

For much of its history, Love's Labour's Lost suffered from an undeserved reputation: Audience disfavor kept it from being performed from Shake-speare's time until the middle of the 19th century, and its elaborate wordplay has put off modern theaters. Too bad, because this early comedy is a delight on the stage, and its battles of words between the sexes are as familiar -- and almost as easy to follow -- as prime-time TV.

The story capitalizes on a popular argument of Shakespeare's time: whether it was better to cope with life by throwing yourself into it or retreating from it into quiet contemplation. The young King Ferdinand of Navarre persuades his three lords to sign a pact, agreeing to withdraw from life -- and the company of women -- for three years.

But one of the men, Berowne, objects: "These are barren tasks, too hard to keep," he says. Besides, he points out, the princess of France is about to arrive on a diplomatic mission. How can the men have nothing to do with ladies when one of them is at their door?

Sure enough, the four French ladies show up to make sport of the men's folly, just as the men find themselves head over heels in love. At the same  

Delaney has set the play in Edwardian times, around the time the 19th century was turning into the 20th, when dress was at its most elegant but women were beginning to break free of the shackles of men. The French ladies in this production arrive onstage for the first time in a great flurry of parasols and portmanteaus. But two of them also wear reading glasses, and it's a cinch these keen-eyed young women have been perusing something more high-minded than Vogue or Elle.

Still, designer Jack Smith's costumes are suitably gorgeous, and Bob Phillips' trellis-bedecked set is fleshed out with suitably modern pursuits -- badminton, bicycles and bloomers.

What's more, Delaney and his cast have found something endearing in nearly every character, from the well-meaning curate Nathaniel (Devin McLean) and the aptly named constable Dull (Michael Dressel) to Don Armado's page, the tiny Moth (Holly Haire), who mimes an extravagant Paglgliacci for her master's entertainment but also winds down the evening with a beautifully plain ballad. Richard Toth is amusing as the dry schoolmaster, and Warren Kelley brings to the fatuous Boyet a little twist of glee.

Shakespeare didn't spend a lot of time delineating the ladies or a couple of the gentlemen, although Steve Lyons finds a touch of recklessness in the lord Dumaine and Richard Width a bit of the class nerd in the lord Longaville. Jean Tafler is grave and whimsical as the princess of France, and Rik Walter delivers all of Navarre's silliness: He forgets the name of his own kingdom when he comes face to face with the love of his life.

But it falls to three characters in this show to sum up the play's romance, its absurdities and its remarkable common sense. Haugen's clown Costard somehow shows all's right with the world in the person of this plucky, good-humored country boy. Snizek somehow embodies all the world's lovers in the body of a lanky, foolish but great-hearted knight.

And Hissom makes the lord Berowne at once sillier than anyone ever saw him but also wise when he needs to be, and he brings the playwright's keenness of eye to the fore in Berowne's honest, plain speech. Shakespeare could not have asked for better than he receives in this glorious production. And most of Orlando doesn't know what it has.

This year, to appeal to both popular and corporate-sponsorship tastes, the Orlando-UCF Shakespeare Festival has paired two comedies in its spring centerpiece event. In addition to the delightful "The Comedy of Errors," the festival chose "Love's Labour's Lost," one of the Bard's lesser-known works -- and a glorious production it is.

The play is seldom performed because of the academic misconception that the language is too poetical and ornate, a misconception that credits the audience too little and denies the very quality of theatrical diction. Here, the poetry, the elegance and the humor of Shakespeare's comedy are brilliantly displayed, in no small part thanks to the gifts of its talented performers. Rather than a hindrance, the magical language of LLL is core to its fantastical humor.

If you recall the Little Rascals' "He-Man Women Hater's Club" episode in the "Our Gang" film short, you will recognize the basic plot of LLL. Ferdinand, King of Navarre, has brought together three of his lords to 

Everyone who remains at court is subject to the same restrictions, so that when the Princess of France arrives with three beautiful ladies, the edict against love is quickly put into a tailspin. Add to the mix a pompous Spanish soldier, a pontificating schoolmaster, an anal-retentive attendant, a rustic clown and a very saucy dairymaid. The resultant mix-up of love letters, frenetic trysts and love-combative wordplays delivers splendid laughs and a heartfelt conclusion that reminds us that human love like human life is all the more precious because it is fleeting.

Director Dennis Delaney has framed the play in the Edwardian era, and the Merchant/Ivory spin serves the play well for the most part. Bob Phillips' opulent design of rich purples, green and gold is punctuated with premodern technology and gilded ornament of the era. Equally impressive are Jack Smith's resplendent period costumes.

The octet of lovers are all individually superb, but the pinnacle of the show is what has to be Eric Hissom's finest performance to date, as Lord Berowne. Hissom's skillful physical humor and characterization has been witnessed many times in the company, including his current turn in "The Comedy of Errors." But his ingenious gift for this play's poetry and his firm grasp of his character will leave you breathless.