You May Also Like / View all maxioms
The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, read more
The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Men of few words are the best men. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Men of few words are the best men. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.
It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation read more
It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
We 'll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have. -As You Like It. Act read more
We 'll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. read more
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 1.
