The appetite may sicken and so die.
Mrs. Pet.—
This music mads me; let it sound no more,
For though it have helped mad men to their wits,
In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad.
Romeo (without, sings).—
“Oh, meet me by moonlight a — — — — — lone!”
Helena.—
That strain again; it had a dying fall;
Oh, it came o’er my ear like the sweet south,