A Room in the Duke's Palace.
 Music.
 Enter ORSINO, Duke of Illyria, CURIO, and other LORDS.

Duke Orsino	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.

Curio	Will you go hunt, my lord?

Duke Orsino								What, Curio?

Curio	The hart.

Duke Orsino	Why, so I do, the noblest that I have.
	O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
	Methought she purged the air of pestilence;
	That instant was I turned into a hart,
	And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
	E'er since pursue me.

                             Enter VALENTINE.

							How now! What news from her?

Valentine	So please my lord, I might not be admitted;
	But from her handmaid do return this answer:
	The element itself, till seven years' heat,
	Shall not behold her face at ample view;
	But like a cloistress she will veild walk,
	And water once a day her chamber round
	With eye-offending brine: all this to season
	A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh
	And lasting in her sad remembrance.

Duke Orsino	O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame
	To pay this debt of love but to a brother,
	How will she love when the rich golden shaft
	Hath killed the flock of all affections else
	That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart,
	These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and filled,
	Her sweet perfections, with one self king!
	Away before me to sweet beds of flowers;
	Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
														[Exeunt.
