Музыка
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Автор: Tom Hiddleston
Текст
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 oer 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 soeer,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.
