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The play 's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king
All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts
As You Like It
Now is the winter of our discontent
King Richard III
Tempt not a desperate man
Romeo and Juliet
If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge
The Merchant of Venice
Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt
Measure for Measure
Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow’d.
How now, spirit! whither wander you?
A Midsummer Night's Dream
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
The triple pillar of the world transformed Into a strumpet's fool
Antony and Cleopatra
As he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him
They say, best men are moulded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad.