Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.
I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
This is the short and the long of it.
Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire.
She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
I do desire we may be better strangers.