You May Also Like / View all maxioms
There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good read more
There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with 't. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, read more
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,— This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
My business in this state Made me a looker on here in Vienna. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
My business in this state Made me a looker on here in Vienna. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
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.
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
That daffed the world aside, And bid it pass. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
That daffed the world aside, And bid it pass. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Priscian! a little scratched, 't will serve. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.
Priscian! a little scratched, 't will serve. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.
