Many A True Word Hath Been Spoken

All The World's A Stage, And All The Men And Women Merely Players: They Have Their Exits And Their Entrances; And One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts, His Acts Being Seven Ages.

The Wound Of Peace Is Surety, Surety Secure; But Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise, The Tent That Searches To Th' Bottom Of The Worst.

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triump Die, Like Fire And Powder Which, As They Kiss, Consume

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.

He's All My Exercise, My Mirth, My Matter.