Shakespeare play from quotes

Random Literature or quote Quiz

Can you name the Shakespeare plays from quotes?

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How to Play
The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.
A young man married is a man that ’s marr’d
A plague o’ both your houses!
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
The quality of mercy is not strain’d
His nature is too noble for the world:/He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,/Or Jove for ’s power to thunder.
Golden lads and girls all must,/As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend/The brightest heaven of invention!
To unpathed waters, undreamed shores.
For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground/And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
As an arrow shot/From a well-experienc’d archer hits the mark/His eye doth level at.
Had I but served my God with half the zeal/I served my king, he would not in mine age/Have left me naked to mine enemies.
All the world ’s a stage,/And all the men and women merely players.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,/Even such a woman oweth to her husband.
The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.
Let’s go hand in hand, not one before another
He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man.
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale/Her infinite variety.
As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods,/They kill us for their sport.
If it were done when ’t is done, then ’t were well/It were done quickly
Our revels now are ended.
If music be the food of love, play on
Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
That no Italian priest/Shall tithe or toll in our dominions.
The better part of valour is discretion.
The common curse of mankind,—folly and ignorance.
I will make a Star-chamber matter of it.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world/Like a Colossus, and we petty men/Walk under his huge legs and peep about/To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,/But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,/Chaos is come again.
The eagle suffers little birds to sing.
How use doth breed a habit in a man!
Now is the winter of our discontent/Made glorious summer by this sun of York
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt,/Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
We have heard the chimes at midnight.
And many strokes, though with a little axe,/Hew down and fell the hardest-timbered oak.

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