All The World's A Stage.

O, Pardon Me, Thou Bleeding Piece Of Earth, / That I Am Meek And Gentle With These Butchers!

I Love A Ballad In Print O' Life, For Then We Are Sure They Are True.

Women Are Not In Their Best Fortunes Strong, But Want Will Perjure The Ne'er-touched Vestal.

The World Is Grown So Bad, That Wrens Make Prey Where Eagles Dare Not Perch.

Mind Your Speech A Little Lest You Should Mar Your Fortunes.