O ruined piece of nature, this great world
Shall so wear out to naught. (IV.vi)
See how yon justice rails upon yon simple thief. Hark in thine ear: change places and handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? (IV.vi)
When we are born we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools. (VI.iv)
You do me wrong to take me out o’the grave.
Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire (IV.vii)
to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind. (IV.vii)