“That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month— Let me not think on't—Frailty, thy name is woman!
A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears.—Why she, even she— O God! A beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn'd longer,—married with mine uncle,”