Weeds

The Tempest, [4.1.14-22]. Prosp. “But/ If thou dost break her virgin-knot before/ All sanctimonious ceremonies may/ With full and holy rite be minist’red,/ No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall/ To make this contract grow; but barren hate,/ Sour ey’d disdain, and discord shall bestrew/ The union of your bed with weeds so loathly/ That you shall hate it both.”