All the world's a stage, and all the men and women mearly players.
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords, in such a just and charitable war.
How much an ill word may empoison liking!
An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England.
As in a theatre, the eyes of men, after a well-graced actor leaves the stage, are idly bent on him that enters next.