William Shakespeare

If music be the food of love, play on.

If music be the food of love, play on.

To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery.

To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery.

The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
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The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes.

So wise so young, they say, do never live long.

So wise so young, they say, do never live long.

She swore, i' faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.

She swore, i' faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.