Behold yond simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks presages snow;
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure’s name;
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to ‘t
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
Though women all above:
But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiend’s;
There’s hell, there’s darkness, there’s the sulphurous pit,
Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: there’s money for thee.
– William Shakespeare
King Lear, Act 4, Scene 6. Lear’s insanity reaches its climax in this scene. He arrives according to the stage directions "fantastically dressed with wild flowers" and talking nonsense, then goes off on a rant about sexuality and women, replete with misogynistic sexual insults. He describes women as normal from the waist up and belonging to the gods, but down below they belong to the devil: "There’s hell, there’s darkness, there’s the sulphurous pit."