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    Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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  10  /  8  

A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3.

A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3.

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  8  /  16  

Modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst. -Troilus read more

Modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst. -Troilus and Cressida. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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  9  /  6  

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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  9  /  6  

This is Ercles' vein. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

This is Ercles' vein. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

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  11  /  8  

An honest exceeding poor man. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

An honest exceeding poor man. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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  8  /  15  

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me read more

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

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  5  /  7  

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.

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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.

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  5  /  7  

This is very midsummer madness. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

This is very midsummer madness. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

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