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
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…
If my dear love were but the child… It might for Fortune’s bastard be… As subject to Time’s love or to T… Weeds among weeds, or flowers with… No, it was builded far from accide…
Why is my verse so barren of new p… So far from variation or quick cha… Why with the time do I not glance… To new-found methods, and to compo… Why write I still all one, ever t…
Love is too young to know what con… Yet who knows not conscience is bo… Then, gentle cheater, urge not my… Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet… For, thou betraying me, I do betr…
To be, or not to be: that is the q… Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to… The slings and arrows of outrageou… Or to take arms against a sea of t… And by opposing end them? To die:…
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,
No more be grieved at that which t… Roses have thorns, and silver foun… Clouds and eclipses stain both moo… And loathsome canker lives in swee… All men make faults, and even I i…
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…
Is it thy will thy image should ke… My heavy eyelids to the weary nigh… Dost thou desire my slumbers shoul… While shadows like to thee do mock… Is it thy spirit that thou send’st…
Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire! I do wander everywhere,
Thine eyes I love, and they, as p… Knowing thy heart torment me with… Have put on black, and loving mour… Looking with pretty ruth upon my p… And truly not the morning sun of h…
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…
Th’ expense of spirit in a waste o… Is lust in action; and, till actio… Is perjured, murderous, bloody ful… Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not… Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd str…
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…