All corners of the world.

Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Some jay of Italy,

Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:

Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion.

Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4.

It is no act of common passage, but

A strain of rareness.

Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4.

I have not slept one wink.