“Not all the water in the rough rude seaCan wash the balm from an anointed King;”

“Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love;Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”

“Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.And, to sink in it, should you burden love;Too great oppression for a tender thing.Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.If love be rough with you, be roughwith love;Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”

“O that I were a mockery king of snowStanding before the sun of BolingbrokeTo melt myself away in water drops!”

“Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.”

“What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.” “My hands are of your colour; but I shame to wear a heart so white. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy it is then! Your constancy hath left you unattended.”

“My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king.HAMLET The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thing -GUILDENSTERN A thing my lord?HAMLET Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after!”