Away, you mouldy rogue, away!

Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear

For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.

Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel? Polonius: By the mass, and ‘tis like a camel, indeed. Hamlet: Methinks it is like a weasel. Polonius: It is backed like a weasel. Hamlet: Or like a whale? Polonius: Very like a whale.

Merciful heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man, Dressed in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured His glassy essence--like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens, would all themselves laugh mortal.