a head between two pillows

If music feeds love, keep playing
Stuff me beyond my limit, so that
my appetite gets sick and dies.
That part again! It had a dying cadence;
I heard it. It went into my ear like a
wind that blows on some violets,
talking and giving order. Enough, no more.
It's not as sweet as it was before.
Love, you are so quick and fresh,
that, even though you are so great,
you receive as the sea. Nothing enters there,
of what validity and superiority so ever,
but falls into abatement and low esteem.
Even in a minute, so full of fantasies is love
that it alone is simply imaginative.

Will you go hunt, me Lord?

What the hell are you talking about?

The heart.

Why, I will, the noblest I can find.
When I first saw Olivia
I thought she stole the air of pestilence.
Then I turned into a heart,
and my fierce and cruel desires
have since chased me.