You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had read more
Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.
A deal of skimble-skamble stuff. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
A deal of skimble-skamble stuff. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
For it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but read more
For it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.
From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. -Much Ado about Nothing. read more
From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, read more
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.
