“I never gave you aught. OPHELIA. My honour'd lord, you know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd As made the things more rich; their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord. HAMLET. ha, ha! Are you honest?
OPHELIA. My lord? HAMLET. Are you fair? OPHELIA.”