All the world's a stage.

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both.

Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.

They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!

How hard it is for women to keep counsel!

I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.