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.