I just can’t stop.
From Twelfth Night:
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
Shift around the letters, and it becomes:
A Duke expects to go stuff himself in notes. If I gave the poetic Orsino my flash iPod device, it may be eaten.
This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 19th, 2007 at 4:14 pm and is filed under Anagram, Shakespeare, Twelfth Night. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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