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.

I am a man more sinned against than sinning

Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.

He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.

There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.

My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.

Thou hast the most unsavoury similes.