O, My Lord, You Said That Idle

Polonius: What Do You Read, My Lord? Hamlet: Words, Words, Words.

Do Not, As Some Ungracious Pastors Do, Show Me The Steep And Thorny Way To Heaven; Whilst, Like A Puff'd And Reckless Libertine, Himself The Primrose Path Of Dalliance Treads And Recks Not His Own Read.

Be Wise As Thou Art Cruel, Do Not Press My Tongue-tied Patience With Too Much Disdain: Lest Sorrow Lend Me Words And Words Express, The Manner Of My Pity-wanting Pain.

Look How The World's Poor People Are Amazed At Apparitions, Signs And Prodigies!

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.