Enough

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 as it was before.

- William Shakespeare