Related:

• While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2...
• Leave her to heaven And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To prick and sting her.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 5...
• I will speak daggers to her, but use none. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act iii, Sc.
  2...
• A little month. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2
• That it should come to this! -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2
• The memory be green. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2
• Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not "seems." 'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2...
• T is a fault to Heaven, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, To reason most absurd.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2...
• In my mind's eye, Horatio. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 2