Twelfth night or what you will
Orsino's monologue ac1;sc1
monologue in whitch i will be performing and some backround info
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 odour! Enough; no more:
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.
Thwarted in love, or what he thinks is his love for the Countess Olivia, Orsino opens the play with a sweet but cynical speech about the inconstancy of love. He basically says it’s just like appetite—what tastes good for a while then begins to be “not so sweet now as it was before. This sweet pessimism about love’s sour transience reaches its culmination in the extended sea metaphor, where he says that individual passions are like rivers flowing into a capacious sea, where “nought enters there … but falls into abatement and low price.” What was once valued is now devalued. A sentence that appears to begin full of optimism and an apostrophe to love as “quick and fresh” ends in a crude economic metaphor for something now judged to be worthless.