You May Also Like / View all maxioms
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there read more
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate. -The Merchant of Venice. 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.
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis read more
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis and talk too much
of Prosperpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare
puts them all down. Aye, and Ben Jonson too. O that B.J. is a
pestilent fellow, he brought up Horace giving poets a pill, but
our fellow, Shakespeare, hath given him a purge that made him
beray his credit.
God save the mark. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
God save the mark. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
Small have continual plodders ever won Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights That give read more
Small have continual plodders ever won Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights That give a name to every fixed star Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.
Rob me the exchequer. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Rob me the exchequer. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3.
The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act read more
The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1.
In those holy fields Over whose acres walked those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our read more
In those holy fields Over whose acres walked those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our advantage on the bitter cross. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.
He dies, and makes no sign. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 3.
He dies, and makes no sign. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 3.
