Bad is the world, and all will come to naught
when such ill-dealing must be seen in thought.

And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well:
And yet words are no deeds.

King Henry VIII. Act 3, Scene 2

And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, —
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

What do I fear? Myself? There’s none else by.
Richard loves Richard; that is, I and I.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

London is the English-speaking theatre capital.