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.”
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Canst thou, O cruel, say I love t… When I against my self with thee… Do I not think on thee when I for… Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy… Who hateth thee that I do call my…
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s g… And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those sprin… On chalic’d flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin
When that I was and a little tiny… With hey, ho, the wind and the rai… A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man’s estate,
O! how I faint when I of you do w… Knowing a better spirit doth use y… And in the praise thereof spends a… To make me tongue-tied speaking of… But since your worth—wide as the o…
Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird’s throat, Come hither, come hither, come hit…
No, Time, thou shalt not boast th… Thy pyramids built up with newer m… To me are nothing novel, nothing s… They are but dressings of a former… Our dates are brief, and therefore…
A woman’s face with Nature’s own… Hast thou, the master-mistress of… A woman’s gentle heart, but not ac… With shifting change, as is false… An eye more bright than theirs, le…
Let those who are in favour with t… Of public honour and proud titles… Whilst I, whom fortune of such tr… Unlooked for joy in that I honour… Great princes’ favourites their fa…
That thou art blam’d 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…
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…
Those petty wrongs that liberty co… When I am sometime absent from th… Thy beauty and thy years full well… For still temptation follows where… Gentle thou art and therefore to b…
So is it not with me as with that… Stirred by a painted beauty to his… Who heaven it self for ornament do… And every fair with his fair doth… Making a couplement of proud compa…
What potions have I drunk of Sire… Distilled from limbecks foul as he… Applying fears to hopes, and hopes… Still losing when I saw my self t… What wretched errors hath my heart…
No more be grieved at that which t… Roses have thorns, and silver foun… Clouds and eclipses stain both moo… And loathsome canker lives in swee… All men make faults, and even I i…
If there be nothing new, but that… Hath been before, how are our brai… Which, labouring for invention bea… The second burthen of a former chi… O, that record could with a backwa…