Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears.

As in a theatre, the eyes of men, after a well-graced actor leaves the stage, are idly bent on him that enters next.

I have a kind soul that would give you thanks. And knows not how to do it but with tears.

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!

There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.

A good old man, sir. He will be talking. As they say, when the age is in, the wit is out.

In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.