You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Gave His body to that pleasant country's earth, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, Under whose colours he read more
Gave His body to that pleasant country's earth, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, Under whose colours he had fought so long. -King Richard II. Act iv. Sc. 1.
What 's gone and what 's past help Should be past grief. -The Winter's Tale. Act iii. Sc. 2.
What 's gone and what 's past help Should be past grief. -The Winter's Tale. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Thou art the Mars of malcontents. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
Thou art the Mars of malcontents. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
Answer me in one word. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Answer me in one word. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king. -King Richard read more
Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. read more
And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.
And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.
And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, read more
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,— This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never read more
For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.
