You May Also Like / View all maxioms
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.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband. -The Taming of the read more
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 2.
If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor read more
If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. read more
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 3.
That in the captain 's but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. -Measure for Measure. Act read more
That in the captain 's but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2.
I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful read more
'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.