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
How sweet and lovely dost thou mak… Which, like a canker in the fragra… Doth spot the beauty of thy buddin… O, in what sweets dost thou thy si… That tongue that tells the story o…
Like as to make our appetite more… With eager compounds we our palate… As to prevent our maladies unseen, We sicken to shun sickness when we… Even so being full of your ne’er-c…
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost tho… Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy? Nature’s bequest gives nothing but… And being frank she lends to those… Then, beauteous niggard, why dost…
Your love and pity doth th’ impres… Which vulgar scandal stamped upon… For what care I who calls me well… So you o’ergreen my bad, my good a… You are my all the world, and I m…
Enobarbus describes Queen Cleopat… Enobarbus: I will tell you. The barge she sat in, like a burni… Burned on the water: the poop was… Purple the sails, and so perfumed…
Farewell!—God knows when we shall… I have a faint cold fear thrills t… That almost freezes up the heat of… I’ll call them back again to comfo… Nurse!—What should she do here?
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…
Thy bosom is endeared with all hea… Which I by lacking have supposed… And there reigns Love, and all Lo… And all those friends which I tho… How many a holy and obsequious tea…
SHALL I compare thee to a Summe… Thou art more lovely and more temp… Rough winds do shake the darling b… And Summer’s lease hath all too s… Sometime too hot the eye of heaven…
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…
Not from the stars do I my judgme… And yet methinks I have astronomy… But not to tell of good or evil lu… Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons… Nor can I fortune to brief minute…
No longer mourn for me when I am… Than you shall hear the surly sull… Give warning to the world that I… From this vile world with vilest w… Nay if you read this line, remembe…
Those hours, that with gentle work… The lovely gaze where every eye do… Will play the tyrants to the very… And that unfair which fairly doth… For never-resting time leads summe…
WHO is Silvia? What is she? That all our swains commend her… Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend… That she might admired be.
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…