Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Ophelia: No, my lord. Hamlet: DId you think I meant country matters? Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord. Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. Ophelia: What is, my lord? Hamlet: Nothing.

Words to deeds cold breath gives.

A great cause of the night is lack of the sun.

More fools know Jack Fool than Jack Fool knows.

And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.

Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self.

What a deformed thief this fashion is.