You May Also Like / View all maxioms
I have had my labour for my travail. -Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 1.
I have had my labour for my travail. -Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 1.
O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge read more
O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O, no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband. -The Taming of the read more
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 2.
He doth nothing but talk of his horse. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
He doth nothing but talk of his horse. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
You two are book-men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
You two are book-men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist. -The read more
Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 1.
An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn. -King Henry read more
An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
