Duke.
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may ^note sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound ^note,
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 capacity
Receiveth as the sea, ^note 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 fancy ^note,
That it alone is ^note high ^note fantastical.

Cur.
Will you go hunt, my lord?

Duke.
What, Curio ^note?

Cur.
The hart.

Duke.
Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:
O, when mine ^note eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purged the air of pestilence! ^note
That instant was I turn'd into a hart;
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er ^note since pursue me. Enter Valentine. ^note
How now! what news from her?

Val.
So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
But from her handmaid do return this answer:
The element itself, till seven years' heat ^note,
Shall not behold her face at ample view;
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk
And water once a day her chamber ^note 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 ^note.

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; when liver, brain and heart,
These ^note sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd

Her sweet perfections ^note with one self ^note king!
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers:
Love-thoughts ^note lie rich when canopied with bowers. [Exeunt. ^note

Next section