William Shakespeare

With this there grows
In my most ill-compos'd affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I King,
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With this there grows
In my most ill-compos'd affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I King,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
Desire his jewels, and this other's house,
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.

I must be cruel only to be kind.

I must be cruel only to be kind.

(Pistol:) And tidings do I bring and lucky joys
And golden times and happy news of price.
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(Pistol:) And tidings do I bring and lucky joys
And golden times and happy news of price.
(Falstaff:) I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this
world.

If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you'd best
teach it to dance.

If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you'd best
teach it to dance.

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
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From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him;
Yet nor the lays of birds, not the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.