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 capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever^{5 note}


,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! ^{6 note}

Cur.
Will you go hunt, my lord?

Duke.
What, Curio?

Cur.
The hart.

Duke.
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when my eyes did see Olivia first,

Methought, she purg'd the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a hart^{7 note};
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.—How now? what news from her? Enter Valentine.

Val.
So please my lord, I might not be admitted,
But from her hand-maid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years hence,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk,
And water once a day her chamber round
With eye-offending brine: all this, to season
A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh,
And lasting, in her sad remembrance.

Duke.
O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame,
To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her^{8 note}

^{9 note}These sovereign thrones, are all supply'd, and fill'd,
^{1 note}