You May Also Like / View all maxioms
The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
This is the very false gallop of verses. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
This is the very false gallop of verses. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
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.
Make haste; the better foot before. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Make haste; the better foot before. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Come not within the measure of my wrath. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act v. Sc. 4.
Come not within the measure of my wrath. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act v. Sc. 4.
This day is called the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day and comes safe home, Will stand a read more
This day is called the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.
I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, read more
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.