You May Also Like / View all maxioms
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. read more
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act iv. Sc. 3.
Let us make an honourable retreat. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Let us make an honourable retreat. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
All plumed like estridges that with the wind Baited like eagles having lately bathed; Glittering in golden coats, like images; read more
All plumed like estridges that with the wind Baited like eagles having lately bathed; Glittering in golden coats, like images; As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite read more
Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished; So sweet and voluble is his discourse. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. -King John. Act read more
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue Sounds ever after as a read more
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Remember'd tolling a departing friend. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 1.
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.