All the world's a stage.
O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth.
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
As good luck would have it.
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes To seek new friends and stranger companies.