| Quote | Play | Spoken By |
|---|
| One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. | |
| The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. | |
| Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York. | |
| We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep. | |
| If music be the food of love, play on; give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die. | |
| The lady doth protest too much, methinks. | |
| There's small choice in rotten apples. | |
| I kissed thee ere I killed thee, now way but this/Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. | |
| Beware the ides of March. | |
| | Quote | Play | Spoken By |
|---|
| Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it. | |
| Lord, what fools these mortals be! | |
| No legacy is so rich as honesty. | |
| Tell him, he wears the rose of youth upon him. | |
| How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child! | |
| The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. | |
| Apollo's angry, and the heavens themselves do strike at my injustice. | |
| Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt. | |
| But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? | |
|
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