Tell me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy's knell:
I'll begin it, Ding, dong, bell.
All. Ding, dong, bell.
Poem by William Shakespeare
If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
- Quote by William Shakespeare