o the celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia: Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt thou 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, O most best, believe it! Adieu. -Thine, evermore, most dear lady... -(Whilst this machine is to him), -Hamlet.