She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.

POLONIUS: What do you read, my lord? HAMLET: Words, words, words.

A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.

Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

The labor we delight in physics [cures] pain.

Why, then the world ’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.