That Strain Again It Had a Dying Fall
Twelfth Night Translation Act one, Scene 1
Enter ORSINO, CURIO, and other lords; Musicians playing
ORSINO
If music be the food of love, play on. Requite me backlog of it that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain over again, it had a dying fall. O, it came o'er my ear like the sweetness sound, That breathes upon a banking concern of violets, Stealing and giving odor. Enough, no more. 'Tis non and then sweet at present 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 infinitesimal. Then full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.
ORSINO
If music feeds love and makes it stronger, then keep playing music. Give me too much of it, and so much that it kills my longing for love and makes information technology go away. Play that part again—it sounded melancholy. Oh, information technology sounded to me similar a sugariness cakewalk blowing over a bank of violets, stealing their odour and distributing information technology to everyone. That'south plenty now, no more music. It doesn't sound equally sweet as information technology did before. Oh spirit of love, how restless you are! You brand me want to have everything, similar the sea does, but then the next minute everything seems worthless, no thing how valuable it is. Love is like a hallucination—nothing else is so imaginative and extravagant.
CURIO
Will you go hunt, my lord?
CURIO
Do you want to go hunting, my lord?
ORSINO
Hunting what, Curio?
ORSINO
Why, so I practice, the noblest that I take. Oh, when mine eyes did see Olivia start, 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.
ORSINO
I am already hunting a hart , but it's also my heart being hunted. Oh, when I commencement saw Olivia, information technology seemed to me that she purified the air with her very presence. In that instant I was transformed into a hart, and ever since then my desire for her has pursued me like a pack of cruel hunting hounds.
How now! What news from her?
What'south going on? What's the news from her?
VALENTINE
And then please my lord, I might non be admitted, But from her handmaid practice render this answer: The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view, But like a cloistress, she will veiled walk And water once a 24-hour interval her chamber round With eye-offending brine —all this to season A brother'southward dead beloved, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance.
VALENTINE
I'm sorry, my lord, they wouldn't let me enter, only Olivia'southward handmaid gave me this answer: the outside earth won't come across Olivia's face for the side by side seven years. She'll article of clothing a veil like a nun, and once a day she'll water her room with her tears. All of this is to preserve her love for her expressionless brother, whose memory she wants to go along fresh forever.
ORSINO
O, she that hath a eye of that fine frame To pay this debt of love merely to a brother, How volition she love, when the rich gilt shaft Hath killed the flock of all angel else That alive in her, when liver, brain, and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled Her sweet perfections with one self male monarch! Away earlier me to sweetness beds of flowers. Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.
ORSINO
Oh, if the heart within Olivia's cute trunk loves her blood brother this much, so imagine how she will dearest me one time Cupid's arrow has killed all her other emotions except love! Her mind, heart, and trunk—each of them a precious kingdom—will all be ruled by one man—me! Now take me to a garden of flowers. My thoughts of dearest will exist strengthened by a beautiful setting.
williamssallithere.blogspot.com
Source: https://www.litcharts.com/shakescleare/shakespeare-translations/twelfth-night/act-1-scene-1
0 Response to "That Strain Again It Had a Dying Fall"
Post a Comment