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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Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen,
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
Mine eye hath played the painter a… Thy beauty’s form in table of my h… My body is the frame wherein ’tis… And perspective it is best painter… For through the painter must you s…
URNS and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dy… Balms and gums and heavy cheers… Sacred vials fill’d with tears,
What is your substance, whereof ar… That millions of strange shadows o… Since every one hath, every one, o… And you, but one, can every shadow… Describe Adonis, and the counterf…
Those parts of thee that the world… Want nothing that the thought of h… All tongues, the voice of souls, g… Utt’ring bare truth, even so as fo… Thy outward thus with outward prai…
In faith, I do not love thee with… For they in thee a thousand errors… But 'tis my heart that loves what… Who in despite of view is pleased… Nor are mine cars with thy tongue’…
O HOW much more doth beauty beau… By that sweet ornament which truth… The Rose looks fair, but fairer w… For that sweet odour which doth in… The Canker-blooms have full as de…
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth,… But sad mortality o’er—sways their… How with this rage shall beauty ho… Whose action is no stronger than a… O, how shall summer’s honey breath…
For shame, deny that thou bear’st… Who for thy self art so unproviden… Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belo… But that thou none lov’st is most… For thou art so possessed with mur…
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…
Lo, as a careful housewife runs to… One of her feather’d creatures bro… Sets down her babe, and makes all… In pursuit of the thing she would… Whilst her neglected child holds h…
Alack, what poverty my Muse bring… That having such a scope to show h… The argument all bare is of more w… Than when it hath my added praise… O, blame me not if I no more can…
When my love swears that she is ma… I do believe her, though I know s… That she might think me some untut… Unlearned in the world’s false sub… Thus vainly thinking that she thin…
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.