Commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways.

The will is infinite and the execution confin'd, the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.

Come give us a taste of your quality.

A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.

A young man married is a man that's marred.

After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.

Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.