Shakespeare play from quotes

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Can you name the Shakespeare plays from quotes?

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

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