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:
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:
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