Orsino’s Scene with Valentine &
Curio
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 capacity
Receiveth
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 fancy
That
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 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
ORSINO
O,
she that hath a heart of that fine frame
To
pay this debt of love but to a brother,
Away
before me to sweet beds of flowers:
Love-thoughts
lie rich when canopied with bowers.
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