What, speaks a woman thus? I know that oft
When I have called her fair she’s marred her features
With twistings till she was no longer fair.
I know she cannot weep, that her drawn face
Tells what in others finds the vent of tears.
I know that she had quarrelled with her brother
Not long before he found death in his bath,
And then play-acted the disconsolate,
And, to cap that, when he was now a corpse,
Displayed another gift received from him