Laertes (Act II, Scene 1)
You hear me not, young sister mine!
I ask you not, implore you not, beseech
You not in terms polite, nor hope obedience
Curbs your luxurious whetted appetite!
If you will not my judgement good respect
Then let you, locked within your room awhile,
Remind you of your duty to our father
Who's dry and rotting corse cries still for justice!

Ophelia
Ha! Lock me up!? As though a nursery babe;
Naïve to slap and scold, confine to room?
I am the chosen love of Hamlet-heir;
One most immediate to the throne of Den-

Laertes
Enough! I've heard enough! You'll come with me!

Ophelia
I'll go alone!

Laertes
Tempt not my worser temper!
You'll come with me, or with me you will go
Enforcéd sway-whether thou wilt or no!