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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Those lines that I before have wr… Even those that said I could not… Yet then my judgment knew no reaso… My most full flame should afterwar… But reckoning Time, whose million…
TAKE, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn… But my kisses bring again,
Was it the proud full sail of his… Bound for the prize of all-too-pre… That did my ripe thoughts in my br… Making their tomb the womb wherein… Was it his spirit, by spirits taug…
Those lips that Love’s own hand d… Breathed forth the sound that said… To me that languished for her sake… But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy co…
Love is my sin and thy dear virtue… Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful… O, but with mine compare thou thin… And thou shalt find it merits not… Or, if it do, not from those lips…
Or whether doth my mind, being cro… Drink up the monarch’s plague, thi… Or whether shall I say mine eye s… And that your love taught it this… To make of monsters, and things in…
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost… That they behold and see not what… They know what beauty is, see wher… Yet what the best is, take the wor… If eyes corrupt by overpartial loo…
So are you to my thoughts as food… Or as sweet-seasoned showers are t… And for the peace of you I hold s… As 'twixt a miser and his wealth i… Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Take all my loves, my love, yea, t… What hast thou then more than thou… No love, my love, that thou mayst… All mine was thine, before thou ha… Then if for my love, thou my love…
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…
COME away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be lai… Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid… My shroud of white, stuck all with…
King Henry to Westmoreland What’s he that wishes so? My cousin Westmoreland? No my fai… If we are mark’d to die, we are en… To do our country loss; and if to…
Who is it that says most, which ca… Than this rich praise—that you alo… In whose confine immurèd is the st… Which should example where your eq… Lean penury within that pen doth d…
WHEN to the Sessions of sweet si… 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, unused t…
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…