Shakespeare play from quotes

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Can you name the Shakespeare plays from quotes?

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

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