My Story board

My Story board

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Storyboard Text

  • If music be the food of love, Play on. Give me excess of that, Surfeiting, The Appetite may sicken, and so die....
  • That strain again, it had a dying fall Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odor. Enough, no more. 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
  • will you go hunt, my lord?
  • what, Curio?
  • The Hart.
  • Why, so I do, the noblest that I have. Oh, 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.
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