You May Also Like / View all maxioms
What, man! defy the Devil: consider, he is an enemy to mankind. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
What, man! defy the Devil: consider, he is an enemy to mankind. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
'T is well said again, And 't is a kind of good deed to say well: And yet words are read more
'T is well said again, And 't is a kind of good deed to say well: And yet words are no deeds. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more
They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition. -A Midsummer Night's read more
So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 2.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. read more
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat read more
I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.
He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the read more
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
