All the world is a stage and we are merely players.
What is aught but as 'tis valued?
Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised.
He hath eaten me out of house and home.
It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion and all made of wishes, All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience and impatience, All purity, all trial, all observance