(answering a question from a young king about why there are so many poor in the kingdom)
Certainly, My liege. And I shall answer this question by way of rhyme.

The poor are like a cloud that lingers in the skies.
Except the cloud yields booming thunder and the poor yield angry cries.
But if you turn your back on them and ignore all of their hate.
They'll soon be rendered powerless and just....dissipate.

(spoken to someone perceived as a competitor for the king's attention, annoyed)
You think you have the king's ear, but make no mistake. I'm in control of this kingdom and you're treading on dangerous ground. We both know the king is young and susceptible. But you yourself are no less naive if you think that you can usurp my position here.

(angry)
Kill the child. Don't you see? If a single one of them lives it will be a threat to us all! We finally have peace, do you want to take us back to the brink of civil war!? Kill her, I said!