The Clock Upbraids Me With The Waste

Well, In That Hit You Miss. She'll Not Be Hit With Cupid's Arrow. She Hath Dian's Wit, And, In Strong Proff Of Chastity Well Armed, From Love's Weak Childish Bow She Lives Uncharmed. She Will Not Stay The Siege Of Loving Terms, Nor Bide Th' Encounter Of Assailing Eyes, Nor Ope Her Lap To Saint-seducing Gold. O, She Is Rich In Beauty; Only Poor That, When She Dies, With Dies Her Store. Act 1,scene 1, Lines 180-197

But Men Are Men; The Best Sometimes Forget.

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue.

Thou And I Are Too Wise To Woo Peaceably.

Good Hamlet, Cast Thy Nighted Colour Off ... Do Not For Ever With Thy Vailed Lids Seek For Thy Noble Father In The Dust.