Publisher's Synopsis
DUKE ORSINO If music be the food of love, play on;Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacityReceiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancyThat it alone is high fantastical.CURIO Will you go hunt, my lord?DUKE ORSINO What, Curio?CURIO The hart.DUKE ORSINO Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence!That instant was I turn'd into a hart;And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me.[Enter VALENTINE]How now! what news from her?VALENTINE So please my lord, I might not be admitted;But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view;But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walkAnd water once a day her chamber roundWith eye-offending brine: all this to seasonA brother's dead love, which she would keep freshAnd lasting in her sad remembrance.DUKE ORSINO O, she that hath a heart of that fine frameTo pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaftHath kill'd the flock of all affections elseThat live in her; when liver, brain and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'dHer sweet perfections with one self king!Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: Love-thoughts lie rich when cano
