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Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
Frailty, thy name is woman!
The Tradegy of Hamlet
To be, or not to be: that is the question
Hamlet Vs Laertes
Alas! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get yet to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Hamlet, Act V, scene i
Young Ophelia
O, That this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew.
