This is
his philosophy of music and of love:
"Give me excess of it, that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die";
and then:
"Enough, no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before."
--the quick revulsion of the delicate artist-voluptuary who wishes to
keep unblunted in memory the most exquisite pang of pleasure.
Speech after speech discovers the same happy freedom and absolute
abandonment to the "sense of beauty." Curio proposes hunting the hart,
and at once the Duke breaks out:
"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."--
Valentine then comes to tell him that Olivia is still mourning for her
brother, and the Duke seizes the opportunity for another lyric:
"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.
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