Ena’s a bitter shrew; Colombe’s a thief;
And, last and worst of all—I blush to own,
Our queen Selene hath a tongue that stabs—
A traitor-tongue, that serves no better end
Than wag a woman’s character away!
Lut. I’ve stumbled into pretty company!
It seems you fairies have your faults!
Zay.Alas!
All but myself. My soul is in my face;
I—only I—am what I seem to be;