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...
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies ... - Page 101
by William Shakespeare - 1740
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