O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
“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.”
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Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.