A misogynist is the woe of man.

Woe to the insane wizards and witches who dedicate themselves to the Devil, and standing in a circle, call upon him with spells to summon him.

Past Ithaca we creep, / Laertes' realms, and curse the land that bred / Ulysses, cause of all the woes we weep.

I have long been sorrowing lamenting for your woes.

Now came an end of mourning and of woe, / when Jove, surveying from his prospect high / shore, sail-winged sea, and peopled earth below, / stood, musing, on the summit of the sky, / and on the Libyan kingdom fixed his eye.

Woe be to the mad wizzards and witches who give themselves to the Devil, being enclosed in a circle, calling upon him with Charms, they tarry with him, and fall from God! for they shall receive their reward from him.

Whom then did I upbraid not, wild with woe, / of gods or men? What sadder sight elsewhere / had Troy, now whelmed in utter wreck, to show?

Go then", cries Pyrrhus, "with thy tale of woe / to dead Pelides, and thy plaints outpour. / To him, my father, in the shades below, / these deeds of his degenerate son deplore."

Woe to me!

At times like this, words are woefully inadequate.