Farewell. And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you. | OPHELIA:Do you doubt that?(5) | LAERTES:For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favours, Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute;(10) No more. | OPHELIA:No more but so? | LAERTES:Think it no more. For nature, crescent, does not grow alone…
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