A very honest woman but something given to lie
You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty!
Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.
It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love.