William Shakespeare

But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And read more

But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit,
And so he'll die; and rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know him.

I 'll speak in a monstrous little voice. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

I 'll speak in a monstrous little voice. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although read more

Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's devil.

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat
Of habit's devil.

Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?

Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?