Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news.

He is not great who is not greatly good.

Fight to the last gasp.

When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree.

You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.

Discharge my followers; let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbrooke's fair day.