Important Quotations Explained
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, naught enters there,
Of what validity and pitch so e’er,
But falls into abatement and low price
Even in a minute! So full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.
me a willow cabin at your gate
And call upon my soul within the house,
Write loyal cantons of contemnèd love,
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Hallow your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out ’Olivia!’ O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth
But you should pity me.
is no woman’s sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart; no woman’s heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.
Alas, their love may be called appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt.
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me
And that I owe Olivia.
and champaign discovers not more. This is open. I will be proud,
I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash
off gross acquaintance, I will be point-device the very man. I do
not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason
excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow
stockings of late, she did praise my leg, being cross-gartered,
and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction
drives to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars, I am happy.
I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered,
even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised.
5. Orsino: If
this be so, as yet the glass seems true,
I shall have share in this most happy wrack.
[To Viola] Boy, thou hast said to me a
Thou never shouldst love woman like to me.
Viola: And all those sayings will I overswear,
And all those swearings keep as true in soul
As doth that orbèd continent the fire
That severs day from night.
Orsino: Give me thy hand,
And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds.
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