Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2. Polonius.
Modern version:
“You may wonder if the stars are fire, You may wonder if the sun moves across the sky. You may wonder if the truth is a liar, But never wonder if I love.”
#EnglishWriters
But be contented when that fell ar… Without all bail shall carry me aw… My life hath in this line some int… Which for memorial still with thee… When thou reviewest this, thou dos…
They that have power to hurt and w… That do not do the thing, they mos… Who, moving others, are themselves… Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation s… They rightly do inherit heaven’s g…
Shall I compare thee to a summer’… Thou art more lovely and more temp… Rough winds do shake the darling b… And summer’s lease hath all too sh… Sometime too hot the eye of heaven…
ROSES, their sharp spines being… Not royal in their smells alone, But in their hue; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quain…
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ev… Now, while the world is bent my de… join with the spite of fortune, ma… And do not drop in for an after-lo… Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'sc…
Now, my co-mates and brothers in e… Hath not old customs make this lif… Than that of painted pomp? Are no… More free from peril than the envi… Here feel we not the penalty of A…
COME unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Court’sied when you have, and kiss… The wild waves whist,— Foot it featly here and there;
O, never say that I was false of… Though absence seem’d my flame to… As easy might I from myself depar… As from my soul, which in thy brea… That is my home of love: if I hav…
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou… As those whose beauties proudly ma… For well thou know’st to my dear d… Thou art the fairest and most prec… Yet, in good faith, some say that…
That thou art blamed shall not be… For slander’s mark was ever yet th… The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven’s swee… So thou be good, slander doth but…
When forty winters shall beseige t… And dig deep trenches in thy beaut… Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed… Will be a tatter’d weed, of small… Then being ask’d where all thy bea…
When in the chronicle of wasted ti… I see descriptions of the fairest… And beauty making beautiful old rh… In praise of ladies dead, and love… Then, in the blazon of sweet beaut…
Lord of my love, to whom in vassal… Thy merit hath my duty strongly kn… To thee I send this written embas… To witness duty, not to show my wi… Duty so great, which wit so poor a…
Was it the proud full sail of his… Bound for the prize of all-too-pre… That did my ripe thoughts in my br… Making their tomb the womb wherein… Was it his spirit, by spirits taug…
That you were once unkind befriend… And for that sorrow which I then… Needs must I under my transgressi… Unless my nerves were brass or ham… For if you were by my unkindness s…