From woman'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, A. 4, S. 3.
Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low: an excellent thing in woman.
King Lear, A. 5, S. 3.
Have you not heard it said full oft,
A woman's nay doth stand for naught?