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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FROM off a hill whose concave wo… A plaintful story from a sistering… My spirits to attend this double v… And down I laid to list the sad-t… Ere long espied a fickle maid full…
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 gift, thy tables, are within m… Full charactered with lasting memo… Which shall above that idle rank r… Beyond all date even to eternity— Or at the least, so long as brain…
My love is strengthened, though mo… I love not less, though less the s… That love is merchandized, whose r… The owner's tongue doth publish ev… Our love was new, and then but in…
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast t… And Will to boot, and Will in ove… More than enough am I that vex th… To thy sweet will making addition… Wilt thou, whose will is large and…
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal… How to divide the conquest of thy… Mine eye my heart thy picture’s si… My heart mine eye the freedom of t… My heart doth plead that thou in h…
Sin of self-love possesseth all mi… And all my soul, and all my every… And for this sin there is no remed… It is so grounded inward in my hea… Methinks no face so gracious is as…
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…
Say that thou didst forsake me for… And I will comment upon that offe… Speak of my lameness, and I strai… Against thy reasons making no defe… Thou canst not, love, disgrace me…
Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with…
How oft, when thou, my music, musi… Upon that blessèd wood whose motio… With thy sweet fingers when thou g… The wiry concord that mine ear con… Do I envy those jacks that nimble…
Some glory in their birth, some in… Some in their wealth, some in thei… Some in their garments, though new… Some in their hawks and hounds, so… And every humour hath his adjunct…
Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies… Cozening the pillow of a lawful ki… Who, therefore angry, seems to par… Swelling on either side to want hi… Between whose hills her head entom…
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?
Our revels now are ended. These o… As I foretold you, were all spiri… Are melted into air, into thin air… And, like the baseless fabric of t… The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorge…