Literature Quiz / Shakespeare play from quotes

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Can you name the Shakespeare plays from quotes?

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