That Strain Again It Had a Dying Fall Meaning

Twelfth Night Translation Deed 1, Scene one

Enter ORSINO, CURIO, and other lords; Musicians playing

ORSINO

If music exist the food of love, play on. Give me excess of it that, surfeiting, The ambition may sicken, so dice. That strain over again, it had a dying fall. O, information technology came o'er my ear similar the sweetness sound, That breathes upon a banking concern of violets, Stealing and giving odor. Enough, no more. 'Tis not and then sweet now equally it was before. O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art 1000, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth every bit the bounding main, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low cost Even in a infinitesimal. So full of shapes is fancy That information technology alone is high fantastical.

ORSINO

If music feeds dearest and makes it stronger, and so keep playing music. Give me too much of information technology, and so much that it kills my longing for honey and makes information technology become away. Play that part again—it sounded melancholy. Oh, it sounded to me similar a sugariness breeze blowing over a bank of violets, stealing their scent and distributing it to anybody. That's enough now, no more music. It doesn't sound as sweetness as it did earlier. Oh spirit of dear, how restless you lot are! You lot make me want to accept everything, like the sea does, but then the next infinitesimal everything seems worthless, no thing how valuable it is. Dearest is like a hallucination—nada else is then imaginative and extravagant.

CURIO

Will y'all go chase, my lord?

CURIO

Do y'all want to go hunting, my lord?

ORSINO

Hunting what, Curio?

ORSINO

Why, then I do, the noblest that I have. Oh, when mine eyes did see Olivia get-go, Methought she purged the air of pestilence. That instant was I turned into a hart, And my desires, like barbarous and cruel hounds, Ever since pursue me.

ORSINO

I am already hunting a hart , but information technology'south also my heart being hunted. Oh, when I showtime saw Olivia, it seemed to me that she purified the air with her very presence. In that instant I was transformed into a hart, and ever since and then my desire for her has pursued me like a pack of brutal hunting hounds.

How now! What news from her?

What's going on? What's the news from her?

VALENTINE

So please my lord, I might not exist admitted, But from her handmaid do return this reply: The chemical element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at aplenty view, But similar a cloistress, she will veiled walk And water once a 24-hour interval her chamber circular With middle-offending brine —all this to flavor A brother's dead beloved, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance.

VALENTINE

I'thou pitiful, my lord, they wouldn't let me enter, but Olivia's handmaid gave me this answer: the outside globe won't encounter Olivia's face for the next 7 years. She'll wear a veil similar a nun, and one time a day she'll h2o her room with her tears. All of this is to preserve her love for her expressionless blood brother, whose retention she wants to keep fresh forever.

ORSINO

O, she that hath a center of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but to a blood brother, How will she love, when the rich gilded shaft Hath killed the flock of all affections else That live in her, when liver, encephalon, and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and filled Her sweetness perfections with one self king! Abroad before me to sweet beds of flowers. Beloved thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

ORSINO

Oh, if the heart inside Olivia's cute body loves her brother this much, then imagine how she will love me one time Cupid's arrow has killed all her other emotions except dearest! Her listen, heart, and trunk—each of them a precious kingdom—volition all be ruled by one homo—me! Now take me to a garden of flowers. My thoughts of love will be strengthened past a beautiful setting.

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Source: https://www.litcharts.com/shakescleare/shakespeare-translations/twelfth-night/act-1-scene-1

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