| Hint | Answer |
|---|
| Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English. | |
| Kill Claudio. | |
| But, masters, remember that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. | |
| I’ll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten…if there be any of him left, I’ll bury it. | |
| But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we’ll not fail. | |
| A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! | |
| This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Signor Junior, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid. | |
| Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. | |
| This was the most unkindest cut of all. | |
| She swore in faith ‘twas strange, ‘twas passing strange, ‘twas pitiful, ‘twas wondrous pitiful. | |
| How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child. | |
| The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. | |
| Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more: thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. | |
| Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time. | |
| Men must endure their going hence even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all. | |
| A fish: he smells like a fish, a very ancient and fish-like smell. | |
| I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives. | |
| Give me a staff of honour for mine age, but not a sceptre to control the world. | |
| Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. | |
| Patience is for poltroons. | |
| O beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock the meat it feeds on. | |
| Action is eloquence. | |
| All is uneven, and everything is left at six and seven. | |
| What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet. | |
| This is the way to kill a wife with kindness. | |
| O, it is excellent to have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant. | |
| All that glisters is not gold. | |
| We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep. | |
| By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. | |
| Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows! | |
| ’Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss. | |
| O! What men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do! | |
| Take but degree away, untune that string, and hark what discord follows. | |
| Oh, how full of briers is this working-day world! | |
| Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh. | |
| I am dying, Egypt, dying. | |
| The time of universal peace is near. | |
| This above all, to thine own self be true and it must follow as the night the day thou canst not then be false to any man. | |
| I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. | |
| Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity. | |
| There is divinity in odd numbers; either in nativity, chance, or death. | |
| The quality of mercy is not strain’d, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. | |
| But for mine own part, it was Greek to me. | |
| Oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse. | |
| Out, damned spot! Out, I say! | |
| Then must you speak of one that loved not wisely, but too well. | |
| How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done! | |
| Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. | |
| He was a kind of nothing, titleless, till he had forged himself a name o’th’fire of burning Rome. | |
| Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, or close the wall up with our English dead. | |
| | Hint | Answer |
|---|
| All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. | |
| The devil shall have his bargain, for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs; he will give the devil his due. | |
| Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you—trippingly on the tongue. | |
| Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York. | |
| If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss. And if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor. | |
| The rest is silence. | |
| Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say good night till it be morrow. | |
| You may my glories and my state depose, but not my griefs; still am I king of those. | |
| Nay, faith, let me not play a woman. I have a beard coming. | |
| And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; for new-made honour doth forget men's names. | |
| But we in it shall be remembered, we few, we happy few, we band of brothers. | |
| Nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal. | |
| O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil! | |
| Words, words, words. | |
| The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. | |
| Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. | |
| A young man married is a man that’s marred. | |
| If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked. | |
| From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive: they sparkle still the right Promethean fire. | |
| Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind. | |
| Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! | |
| No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. | |
| I wasted time, and now doth Time waste me. | |
| The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life. | |
| How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath to say to me that thou art out of breath? | |
| Men shut their doors against a setting sun. | |
| The smallest worm will turn, being trodden upon. | |
| Is this a dagger, which I see before me, the handle toward my hand? | |
| Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing that none but fools would keep. | |
| I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; if wealthily, then happily in Padua. | |
| I charge thee, fling away ambition: by that sin fell the angels. | |
| Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. | |
| This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. | |
| But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? | |
| A plague o’ both your houses. I am sped. | |
| The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance. | |
| Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won? | |
| No man alive can love in such a sort the thing he means to kill more excellently. | |
| Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself till by broad spreading it disperse to naught. | |
| O wonderful, wonderful! And most wonderful wonderful! And yet again wonderful! And after that out of all whooping. | |
| If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended: that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear. | |
| If you find him sad, say I am dancing; if in mirth, report that I am sudden sick. | |
| I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he’s a cat to me. | |
| He’s in the third degree of drink; he’s drowned. | |
| Uneasy lies a head that wears a crown. | |
| I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. | |
| Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; a woman clad in armor chaseth them. | |
| With all my heart I’ll send the emperor my hand. Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? | |
| There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. | |
| We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. | |
| | Hint | Answer |
|---|
| When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm he cools me with beating. | |
| My salad days—when I was green in judgment, cold in blood. | |
| But he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed. | |
| Submission, Dolphin? ’Tis a mere French word. We English warriors wot not what it means. | |
| Double, double toil and trouble: Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble. | |
| Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus; home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. | |
| They say he is already in the Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him. | |
| Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again. | |
| There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. | |
| Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, when with your blood you daily paint her thus. | |
| Golden lads and girls all must, as chimney-sweepers, come to dust. | |
| How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. | |
| If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? | |
| There was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. | |
| I have drunk, and seen the spider. | |
| Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. | |
| Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself. | |
| Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt. | |
| ‘Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner,’ there’s a double meaning in that. | |
| A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse! | |
| She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman. | |
| Kiss me Kate, we will be married o' Sunday. | |
| Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones. | |
| Out, vile jelly, where is thy luster now? | |
| And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. | |
| Every subject’s duty is the King’s, but every subject’s soul is his own. | |
| Villain, I have done thy mother. | |
| But kiss: one kiss! Rubies unparagoned, how dearly they do't! | |
| If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. | |
| When we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools. | |
| Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies. | |
| She is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her. | |
| Our wooing doth not end like an old play: Jack hath not Jill. | |
| If music be the food of love, play on. | |
| If one good deed in all my life I did I do repent it from my very soul. | |
| Should all despair that have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind would hang themselves. | |
| If you can mock a leek you can eat a leek. | |
| Beware the ides of March. | |
| On her left breast a mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip. | |
| Blow winds and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow! | |
| I will beat thee into handsomeness. | |
| O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. | |
| ’Tis such fools as you that makes the world full of ill-favored children. | |
| Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. | |
| What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? | |
| I have set my life upon a cast, and I will stand the hazard of the die. | |
| For you the city, thus I turn my back. There is a world elsewhere! | |
| I charge and command that, at the city’s cost, the Pissing Conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. | |
| Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin. | |
| Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war. | |
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