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.

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.

The poorest service is repaid with thanks.

Men of few words are the best men." (3.2.41)

Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.

Wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.