if the music be the food of love , play on,
give me the excess of it: that surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.
that strain again it had a dying fall.
o, it came over my ear like the sweet soubnd
stealing and giving odour. enough , no more,
tis not so sweet now as it was before.
o spirit of love , how quick and fresh thou art
that not withstanding thy capacity
receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
of what validity and pitch so ever,
but falls into abatement and low price,
even in a minute:so full of shapes is fancy,
that it alone is high fantastical.