There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
I do begin to have bloody thoughts.
Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form
POLONIUS: What do you read, my lord? HAMLET: Words, words, words.
Send danger from the east unto the west, so honor cross it from the north to south.