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
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLY… Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial… Draws on apace; four happy days br… Another moon: but, O, methinks, h… This old moon wanes! she lingers m…
When to the sessions of sweet sile… I summon up remembrance of things… I sigh the lack of many a thing I… And with old woes new wail my dear… Then can I drown an eye, unus’d t…
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…
When I consider every thing that… Holds in perfection but a little m… That this huge stage presenteth no… Whereon the stars in secret influe… When I perceive that men as plant…
Thy gift, thy tables, are within m… Full charactered with lasting memo… Which shall above that idle rank r… Beyond all date even to eternity— Or at the least, so long as brain…
What’s in the brain that ink may c… Which hath not figured to thee my… What’s new to speak, what now to r… That may express my love, or thy d… Nothing, sweet boy, but yet, like…
The little love god lying once asl… Laid by his side his heart-inflami… Whilst many nymphs that vowed chas… Came tripping by; but in her maide… The fairest votary took up that fi…
? or John Fletcher. ORPHEUS with his lute made tree… And the mountain tops that freeze Bow themselves when he did sing… To his music plants and flowers
Accuse me thus: that I have scant… Wherein I should your great deser… Forgot upon your dearest love to c… Whereto all bonds do tie me day by… That I have frequent been with un…
Beshrew that heart that makes my h… For that deep wound it gives my fr… Is’t not enough to torture me alon… But slave to slavery my sweet’st f… Me from my self thy cruel eye hath…
Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire! I do wander everywhere,
Full many a glorious morning have… Flatter the mountain-tops with sov… Kissing with golden face the meado… Gilding pale streams with heavenly… Anon permit the basest clouds to r…
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not… My tongue-tied patience with too m… Lest sorrow lend me words and word… The manner of my pity-wanting pain… If I might teach thee wit, better…
O truant Muse, what shall be thy… For thy neglect of truth in beauty… Both truth and beauty on my love d… So dost thou too, and therein dign… Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not…
Tir’d with all these, for restful… As, to behold desert a beggar born… And needy nothing trimm’d in jolli… And purest faith unhappily forswor… And gilded honour shamefully mispl…