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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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  9  /  8  

Every true man's apparel fits your thief. -Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Every true man's apparel fits your thief. -Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 2.

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  5  /  14  

Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is good gifts. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.

Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is good gifts. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  11  

It is meat and drink to me. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 1.

It is meat and drink to me. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  15  

Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.

Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.

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  1  /  10  

Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband. -The Taming of the read more

Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 2.

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  6  /  8  

Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, Study to break it and not break my troth. -Love's Labour 's read more

Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, Study to break it and not break my troth. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  17  /  16  

Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 4.

Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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  3  /  3  

Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. -Twelfth Night. Act v. Sc. 1.

Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. -Twelfth Night. Act v. Sc. 1.

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  5  /  5  

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.

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