There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings.
Past all shame, so past all truth.
And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
How hard it is for women to keep counsel!