“Why, what's the matter,That you have such a February face,So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?”

“What soilders whey-face?The English for so please you.Take thy face hence.”

“You mar our labour: keep your cabins:you do assist the storm[...] What cares these roarers for the name of king?”

“What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night,So stumblest on my counsel?*Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*”

“so full of shapes is fancy”

“In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:It wearies me; you say it wearies you;But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,I am to learn;And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,That I have much ado to know myself.”

“What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.”