To Ophelia

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 have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, oh, most best, believe it. Adieu.
  Thine evermore, most dear lady,
  whilst this machine is to him,
    Hamlet.
–William Shakespeare
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