Hamlet

Claudius

                                                 Oh , for two special reasons,
Which may to you perhaps seem much unsinewed,
But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his mother,
Lives almost by his looks, and for myself  
(My virtue or my plague, be it either which)
She's so conjuncconjunctive to my life and soul
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive 
Why to a public count I might not go
Is the great love the general gender bear him,
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, 
Convert his guilts to graces so that my arrows,
Too slightly timbered for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aimed them.    

Claudius

                                                 Oh , for two special reasons,
Which may to you perhaps seem much unsinewed,
But yet to me they are strong. The queen, his mother,
Lives almost by his looks, and for myself  
(My virtue or my plague, be it either which)
She's so conjuncconjunctive to my life and soul
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her. The other motive 
Why to a public count I might not go
Is the great love the general gender bear him,
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, 
Convert his guilts to graces so that my arrows,
Too slightly timbered for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aimed them.    

Claudius

Laertes, was your father dear to you, 
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?

Laertes

                                         Why ask you this?

Claudius

Not that I think you did not love your father, 
But that I know love is begun by time, 
And that I see, (in passages of proof),
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.    
Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake
To show yourself your father's son in deed,
More than in words?

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