Ophelia to Polonius:
Oph: He hath my lord, made many tenders of his affections to me.
My lord, he hath importu`ned me with love in honourable fashion.
And hath given countenance to his speech my lord, with almost all the holy vows of heaven.
Letters from Hamlet to Ophelia:
Ham: To the celestial, and my soul’s idol, the most beautified Ophelia, in her excellent white bosom, these, &c
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers, I ahve not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,
Ophelia to Hamlet:
Oph: My lord, I ave rememberances of that I have long longed to re-deliver, I pray you now recieve them.
Ham: No, not I; I never gave them to you aught.
Ham: …I did love you once.
Oph: Indeed my lord, you made me believe so.
Ham: You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate your old stock but we shall relish of it; I loved you not.
Oph: I was the more decieved.
Ham: If thou dost marry, I’ll give thee this plague for thy dowry,–be thou chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go; farewell: Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go; and quickly too. Farewell
Prologue of Hamlet’s play:
Pro: For us and for our tragedy, Here stooping to your clemency, we beg you hearing patiently.
Ham: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?
Oph: Tis brief my lord.
Ham: As woman’s love.
Ham: What, the fair Ophelia?
… (Laertes leaps into Ophelia’s grave)
Ham: What is he whose grief bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow conjures the wandering stars, and makes like wonder-wounded hearers? this is I Hamlet, the Dane.
… (Hamlet leaps into the grave)
Ham: I lov’d Ophelia; forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?