A C T I. S C E N E I.
An apartment in the Duke's palace.
Enter DUKE, CURIo, Lords; Musicians attending.
Duke. If musick be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die. -
That suraim again ; — it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south,
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, motwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute so full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical.
Cur. Will you go hunt, my Lord?
Duke. What, Curio 2 -
Cur. The hart.
Luke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have :
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought, she purg'd 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. — How now what news
from her ?