What's in a name? That which we call a rose
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
The lady doth protest too much
If music be the food of love, play on
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio
To sleep, perchance to dream
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Such stuff as dreams are made on
Parting is such sweet sorrow
The winter of our discontent
What a piece of work is a man
Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars
All that glisters is not gold
Cowards die many times before their deaths
Frailty, thy name is woman
What light through yonder window breaks?
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below
The course of true love never did run smooth
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears
Nothing can come of nothing
We should be woo'd and were not made to woo
The quality of mercy is not strained
A plague on both your houses
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
So wise so young, they say do never live long
O, how this spring of love resembleth
We that are true lovers run into
How now? A rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!
Done to death by slanderous tongue
Why then tonight let us assay our plot
That art a votary to fond desire?
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps
Be not afraid of greatness
Lord, what fools these mortals be
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me
I follow him to serve my turn upon him
Is this a dagger which I see before me
Come, let's away to prison; We two alone will sing
Let every eye negotiate for itself
One that loved not wisely but too well
More matter with less art
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!
And thus I clothe my naked villany
Eye of newt, and toe of frog
All the infections that the sun sucks up
Give me my robe, put on my crown
Journeys end in lovers meeting
When shall we three meet again
Asses are made to bear, and so are you
Think you I am no stronger than my sex
I am constant as the northern star
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man
Here's ado to lock up honesty
The noblest Roman of them all
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
The man that hath no music in himself
When beggars die there are no comets seen
The most unkindest cut of all
I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you
How poor are they that have not patience!
I come to wive it wealthily in Padua
What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano
What's gone and what's past help
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
When you do dance, I wish you
A hit, a very palpable hit
A long farewell to all my greatness