if music be

food of love

play on give

me excess of

it that surfeiting

appetite may sicken

and so die

that strain again 

it had dying

fall it came

over my ear

like sweet sound

that breathes upon

banks of violets

stealing and giving

odour enough i

say no more

tis not so

sweet now as

it was before

lovely aphrodite how

quick and fresh

art though that

notwithstanding thy capacity

receiveth as sea

nought enters there

of what validity

and pitch and

so ever but

falls into abatement

and low price

even in minute

so full of

shapes is fancy

that alone is