Music

How oft, when thou, my music, music play’stAnastrophe, Antanaclasis, Epizeuxis & Metaphor
Upon that blessèd wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway’st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,Anastrophe & Synecdoche
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
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If music be the food of love, play on.
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die.
That strain again! It had a dying fall.
O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odor. Enough; no more.

O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
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Juliet
Hist, Romeo, hist! O, for a falc’ner’s voice
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud,
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine
With repetition of “My Romeo!”

Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say “Good night” till it be morrow.
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Cloten
I would this music would come. I am advised
to give her music a-mornings; they say it will
penetrate.

And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes.
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise,

 Enter Musicians.
Come on,
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Prince
Come, Balthasar, we’ll hear that song again.
Balthasar
O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice
To slander music any more than once.
Prince
It is the witness still of excellency
To put a strange face on his own perfection.
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more.
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Queen Katherine
Take thy lute, wench. My soul grows sad with troubles.
Sing, and disperse ’em if thou canst. Leave working.
Woman sings 

Orpheus with his lute made trees
And the mountaintops that freeze
Bow themselves when he did sing.
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung,
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Bassanio
Let me choose,
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Portia
Upon the rack, Bassanio? Then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bassanio
None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear th’ enjoying of my love.
There may as well be amity and life
‘Tween snow and fire,
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Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.
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Enter Mariana, and Boy singing.

Take, O take those lips away,
 That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes, the break of day,
 Lights that do mislead the morn.Synecdoches
But my kisses bring again, bring again,
 Seals of love, but sealed in vain,
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Host
Now, my young guest, methinks you’re allycholly.
I pray you, why is it?
Julia, as Sebastian
Marry, mine host, because I
cannot be merry.
Host
Come, we’ll have you merry. I’ll bring you where
you shall hear music and see the gentleman that you
asked for.
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