You May Also Like / View all maxioms
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.
Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford read more
Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
'T is not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
'T is not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity. -King Henry IV. Part II. read more
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 4.
Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. -As You Like It. read more
Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all read more
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy. -Troilus and read more
Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy. -Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 3.
