...But Is It Shakespeare? II

Random Literature or This or That Quiz

Can you name the source of each famous quote below—whether or not it is from Shakespeare?

Featured May 22, 2012

How to Play
Score 0/30 Timer 07:00
Famous QuoteShakespeare or Not (S or N)Source
O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!
When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.
Even a fool may be wise after the event.
Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, and I'll not look for wine.
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in it!
The gods help them that help themselves.
Age steals away all things, even the mind.
The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old Time is still a-flying.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.
Physician, heal thyself.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
Famous QuoteShakespeare or Not (S or N)Source
With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censored, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably.
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.
The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
For mine own part, it was Greek to me.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
Cleanliness is next to Godliness.
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
She walks in beauty, like the night; of cloudless climes and starry skies.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time.
By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.
O my Luve's like a red, red rose, that's newly sprung in June. O, my Luve's like the melodie, that's sweetly play'd in tune.
The fool doth think he is wise but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
I am constant as the Northern Star, of whose true fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.
If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

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