Prithee, speak'st thou to me in the honey-tongued wit of the Swan of Avon, absolute in their numbers as he conceived them

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
you, trippingly on the tongue…

(Hamlet, III, ii)

These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:

(The Tempest, IV, i)

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!

(Hamlet, I, ii)

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.

(Macbeth, V, v)

Sometimes we see a cloud that’s dragonish;
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
A tower’d citadel, a pendent rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon’t, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen
these signs;
They are black vesper’s pageants…
… That which is now a horse, even with a thought
The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water…
… My good knave Eros, now thy captain is
Even such a body.

Antony and Cleopatra, IV.xiv

For God’s sake, let’s sit on the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings
Richard II, III, ii

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Hamlet, V, ii

I thought about coming up with some really witty response to the OP but conscience does make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pitch and moment, with this regard their currents turn awry.

Why, there’s a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
Taming of the Shrew V i


Though she be but little, she is fierce.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, III, ii

And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

Measure for Measure, III, i

No, Percy, thou art dust, and food for—

Henry IV, Part I, V, iv

This story shall the good man teach his son,
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother.

Henry V, IV, iii

As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods:
They kill us for their sport.

King Lear, IV, i


Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.

As You Like It, II, vii.

Our court shall be a little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years’ term to live with me
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes
That are recorded in this schedule here:

  • Love’s Labour’s Lost I, i

When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

Much Ado About Nothing, II, iii

Just, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face! I had rather lie in the woolen.

Much Ado About Nothing , II, iii