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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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…
That time of year thou mayst in me… When yellow leaves, or none, or fe… Upon those boughs which shake agai… Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the… In me thou see’st the twilight of…
When I do count the clock that te… And see the brave day sunk in hide… When I behold the violet past pri… And sable curls all silver’d o’er… When lofty trees I see barren of…
How heavy do I journey on the way… When what I seek, my weary travel… Doth teach that case and that repo… “Thus far the miles are measured f… The beast that bears me, tired wit…
O, call not me to justify the wron… That thy unkindness lays upon my h… Wound me not with thine eye but wi… Use power with power, and slay me… Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere, but…
O mistress mine, where are you roa… O stay and hear! your true-love’s… That can sing both high and low; Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journey’s end in lovers’ meeting–
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…
Lo! in the orient when the graciou… Lifts up his burning head, each un… Doth homage to his new-appearing s… Serving with looks his sacred maje… And having climb’d the steep-up he…
URNS and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dy… Balms and gums and heavy cheers… Sacred vials fill’d with tears,
Two loves I have, of comfort and… Which like two spirits do suggest… The better angel is a man right fa… The worser spirit a woman coloured… To win me soon to hell, my female…
Some glory in their birth, some in… Some in their wealth, some in thei… Some in their garments, though new… Some in their hawks and hounds, so… And every humour hath his adjunct…
Our remedies oft in ourselves do l… Which we ascribe to heaven. The f… Gives us free scope, only doth bac… Our slow designs when we ourselves… What power is it which mounts my l…
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…
IT was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey… That o’er the green corn-field did… In the spring time, the only pr… When birds do sing, hey ding a din…
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…