Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!

To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.

As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and in her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.

Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his liveless end.

These words are razors to my wounded heart.

He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.