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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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…
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…
Against my love shall be, as I am… With Time’s injurious hand crushe… When hours have drained his blood… With lines and wrinkles; when his… Hath travelled on to age’s steepy…
When thou shalt be disposed to set… And place my merit in the eye of s… Upon thy side against myself I’ll… And prove thee virtuous, though th… With mine own weakness being best…
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…
When I have seen by Time’s fell h… The rich-proud cost of outworn bur… When sometime lofty towers I see… And brass eternal slave to mortal… When I have seen the hungry ocean…
The forward violet thus did I chi… Sweet thief, whence didst thou ste… If not from my love’s breath? The… Which on thy soft cheek for comple… In my love’s veins thou hast too g…
The other two, slight air and purg… Are both with thee, wherever I ab… The first my thought, the other my… These present-absent with swift mo… For when these quicker elements ar…
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…
THAT time of year thou may’st in… When yellow leaves, or none, or fe… Upon those boughs which shake agai… Bare ruin’d choirs where late the… In me thou see’st the twilight of…
Enter Chorus O for a Muse of fire, that would… The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to… And monarchs to behold the swellin…
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…
I never saw that you did painting… And therefore to your fair no pain… I found, or thought I found, you… The barren tender of a poet’s debt… And therefore have I slept in you…
Whilst I alone did call upon thy… My verse alone had all thy gentle… But now my gracious numbers are de… And my sick Muse doth give an oth… I grant, sweet love, thy lovely ar…
When forty winters shall beseige t… And dig deep trenches in thy beaut… Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed… Will be a tatter’d weed, of small… Then being ask’d where all thy bea…