Hold, Or Cut Bowstrings.

Be Merry, And Employ Your Chiefest Thoughts To Courtship And Such Fair Ostents Of Love As Shall Conveniently Become You There.

Madam, You Have Bereft Me Of All Words, Only My Blood Speaks To You In My Veins.

O All You Host Of Heaven! O Earth! What Else? And Shall I Couple Hell?

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.

At This Hour Lie At My Mercy All Mine Enemies.