If music be the food of love, sing on till I am filled with joy.
For then my listening soul you move to pleasures that can never cloy.
Your eyes, your mien, your tongue declare that you are music everywhere.
Pleasures invade both eye and ear.
So fierce the transports are they wound, and all my senses feasted are...
Tho yet, the treat is only sound. Sure I must perish by your charms, unless you save me in your arms.
If music be the food of love sing on till I am filled with joy.