Shakespeare play from quotes

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Can you name the Shakespeare plays from quotes?

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

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