In vaine is the mill-clacke, if the Miller his hearing lack.

In vaine is the mill-clacke, if the Miller his hearing lack.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your read more

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts;
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear.

Divine ashes are better then earthly meale.

Divine ashes are better then earthly meale.

A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.

A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her.

For many are called, but few are chosen.

For many are called, but few are chosen.

This is the real secret of all that indignation.

This is the real secret of all that indignation.

A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

There is no such thing as perfect happiness.

There is no such thing as perfect happiness.

Want of pluck shows want of blood.

Want of pluck shows want of blood.