This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his lovd mansionry, that the heavens breath Smells wooingly here; no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made its pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have observd, The air is delicate. Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 6. L. 3.