Act 1 Scene 1 Twelfth Night
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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. 5Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odor. Enough, no more.
Well Hello Attendant
Go ask Olivia if she would like to take my hand in marriage!
Olivia has decided to go into hiding for 7 years as her brother has just died and she cannot handle the loss
I need to find a way for her to direct that love she has lost at me!
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