Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel.

Your Lordship, Though Not Clean Past Your Youth, Have Yet Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltiness Of Time.

Scarce Can I Speak, My Choler Is So Great. Oh! I Could Hew Up Rocks, And Fight With Flint.

But Indeed An Old Religious Uncle Of Mine Taught Me To Speak, Who Was In His Youth An Inland Man; One That Knew Courtship Too Well, For There He Fell In Love. I Have Heard Him Read Many Lectures Against It; And I Thank God I Am Not A Woman, To Be Touched With So Many Giddy Offenses As He Hath Generally Taxed Their Whole Sex Withal.

Would I Were Dead, If God's Good Will Were So, For What Is In This World But Grief And Woe?

I Will Go Wash; And When My Face Is Fair, You Shall Perceive Whether I Blush Or No.