Honesty

Countess
In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.
Bertram
And I in going, madam, weep o’er my father’s
death anew; but I must attend his Majesty’s
command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore
in subjection.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
excessive grief the enemy to the living

Lafew
You shall find of the King a husband,
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Ophelia
My lord, I have remembrances of yours
That I have longèd long to redeliver.
I pray you now receive them.
Hamlet
No, not I. I never gave you aught.
Ophelia
My honored lord, you know right well you did,
And with them words of so sweet breath composed
As made the things more rich.
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Silvius
O dear Phoebe,
If ever—as that ever may be near—
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy,
Then shall you know the wounds invisible
That love’s keen arrows make.
Phoebe
But till that time
Come not thou near me. And when that time comes,
Afflict me with thy mocks,
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