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.
Act 1 Scene 1, Twelfth Night, in which Orsino is a great big fop about being in love with Olivia. I’ve always liked the idea of doing a production of the play with Orsino slowly and awkwardly falling for Cesario (Viola disguised) throughout the play.
The whole play is available on this wonderful site:
I personally find one of his funniest and most interesting comedies, especially the conversation about death, grief and the afterlife between the ‘fool’ character (often a source of insight and introspection in Shakespeare’s plays) and Olivia, in Act 1 Scene 5.