| First Line | Play |
|---|
| 'Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:/Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.' | |
| 'Nay, but this dotage of our general's/O'erflows the measure' | |
| 'Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall/And by the doom of death end woes and all' | |
| 'I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall' | |
| 'Boatswain!' | |
| 'Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star-chamber matter of it; if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, Esquire' | |
| 'To sing a song that old was sung,/From ashes ancient Gower is come;/Assuming man's infirmities,/To glad your ear, and please your eyes' | |
| 'If music be the food of love, play on' | |
| 'Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,/Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs,/And then grace us in the disgrace of death' | |
| 'I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina.' | |
| 'Now is the winter of our discontent/Made glorious summer byt his sun of York;/And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house/In the deep bosom of the ocean buried' | |
| 'You do not meet a man but frowns.' | |
| 'Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour/Draws on apace; four happy days bring in/Another moon' | |
| 'Who's there?' | |
| | First Line | Play |
|---|
| 'Two households, both alike in dignity,/In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,/From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,/Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean' | |
| 'In Troy, there lies the scene' | |
| 'In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.' | |
| 'I'll pheeze you, in faith' | |
| 'In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;/It wearies me; you say it wearies you' | |
| 'Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.' | |
| 'When shall we three meet again/In thunder, lightning, or in rain?' | |
| 'Escalus' | |
| 'Good day, sir' | |
| 'Noble patricians, patrons of my right,/Defend the justice of my cause with arms,/And, countrymen, my loving followers,/Plead my successive title with your swords' | |
| 'As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion,—bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well' | |
| 'Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly/That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse/As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this' | |
| 'Home! home, you idle creatures, get you home!' | |
| 'If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see' | |
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