The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

I must be cruel, only to be kind:Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt,It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god!