Claudius: Hamlet 4.5, 74-79
O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
All from her father’s death and now behold,
O Gertrude, Gertrude,
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions:
Marcus: Titus Andronicus 3.1, 82-86
O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,
That blabbed them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage,
Where like a sweet melodious bird it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear.