Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a Colossus.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one

O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, When none will sweat but for promotion

All the world's a stage, And all the men and merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts....

"God's bodkin, man, much better: use every man after his desert, and who shall scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity -- the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty?