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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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…
O, how much more doth beauty beaut… By that sweet ornament which truth… The rose looks fair, but fairer we… For that sweet odour, which doth i… The canker blooms have full as dee…
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…
Those lips that Love’s own hand d… Breathed forth the sound that said… To me that languish’d for her sake… But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy co…
Were’t aught to me I bore the can… With my extern the outward honouri… Or laid great bases for eternity, Which proves more short than waste… Have I not seen dwellers on form…
Cupid laid by his brand and fell a… A maid of Dian’s this advantage f… And his love-kindling fire did qui… In a cold valley-fountain of that… Which borrowed from this holy fire…
That god forbid, that made me firs… I should in thought control your t… Or at your hand th’ account of hou… Being your vassal bound to stay yo… O, let me suffer, being at your be…
HARK! hark! the lark at heaven’s… Â Â Â And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those sprin… Â Â Â On chaliced flowers that lie… And winking Mary-buds begin
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 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,
WHEN daisies pied and violets bl…    And lady-smocks all silver-w… And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue    Do paint the meadows with de… The cuckoo then, on every tree,
The quality of mercy is not strain… It droppeth as the gentle rain fro… Upon the place beneath. It is twi… It blesseth him that gives, and hi… 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; i…
From “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream,… PUCK sings: NOW the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
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…
My love is as a fever, longing sti… For that which longer nurseth the… Feeding on that which doth preserv… The uncertain sickly appetite to p… My reason, the physician to my lov…