William Shakespeare

Yet gold all is not that doth golden seem.

Yet gold all is not that doth golden seem.

I almost die for food, and let me have it!

I almost die for food, and let me have it!

I will make an end of my dinner--there's pippins and seese to
come.

I will make an end of my dinner--there's pippins and seese to
come.

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So read more

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet within a month--
Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman--
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she--
O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourned longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules.

The general's disdained
By him one step below, he by the next,
The next by him beneath; read more

The general's disdained
By him one step below, he by the next,
The next by him beneath; so every step,
Exampled by the first pace that is sick
Of his superior, grows to an envious fever
Of pale and bloodless emulation:
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,
Not her own sinews.