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

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. There's fennel for you, and columbines: — there 's rue for you; and here's some for me: — we may call it, herb of grace o'Sundays: — you may wear your rue with a difference. — There's a daisy: — I would give you some violets; but they withered all, when my father died: — They say, he made a good end.

O, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.

All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!

The extreme parts of time extremely forms all causes to the purpose of his speed.

Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.