I would this music would come. I am advised
to give her music a-mornings; they say it will
Let me choose,
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Upon the rack,
Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles.
Sing, and disperse ’em if thou canst.
Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
O, good my lord,
Tomorrow is the joyful day, Audrey. Tomorrow
will we be married.
I do desire it with all my heart,
Now, my young guest, methinks you’re allycholly.
I pray you, why is it?
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn.
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear,
Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymnAlliteration.
How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night,Alliteration
Like softest music to attending ears!
Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.
If music be the food of love, play on.
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die.