I see where your plot lies clearly, by undervaluing me and our Sex, you would put our friends out of conceit with us and others, that you might make a Monopoly of our Sex; be advised Sir, your Patent will not be worth the procuring, if we are so variable and wavering, as you would falsly make the world believe, you have Marshall’d up a fair company of Metaphors, that your wit might flutter in our disparagement. Our sailing from port to port to advance our profit, is not so discomendable as you would have it, since it is rather our misfortune to meet with such Bank-rupts, Broken-merchants, who have neither stock nor credit to barter with us for our wares. Surely your wit is mightily improv’d (since your poor Poetry you writ to my friend _Doll_, which she related to me was almost all the reward she had for her lost Virginity) it skipt so nimbly from Pole to Pole, from Sea to Land, to fetch a Lean starvelin of a conceit, and that was the comparing of us to ripe Nutts, or Nutts brown at bottom as you well know; for all we are slip-shell’d were it not for truanting-waggs who rushing into our Thickets shake us down; we might hang long enough, not like your Crack-ropes: and for your likening us to fruit soon ripe, and as soon rotten, I dare confidently aver that we might remain a long time on the tree, did not such unhappy Boys as you are throw stones at us. Lastly, you say our sweets are accompanyed with stings, I know not what you mean, but I am sure you stung this Gentlewoman and my self in that manner that the swelling lasted nine moneths, and by a Mid-wife was at last delivered of our pain. To conclude, with what force can you condemn us for inconstancy? when every new face you see shall change your affection, variety shall be as so many winds to blow your amorous pretences to more points than are contained within a Compass, and when you have had, after a long Seige, the Town (you sate down before) surrendered, you fall a plundring instantly, and it may be, after this, ingratefully set the Garrison on fire; if not, at leastwise curse the time and money you spent in your Conquest, throwing it off as a thing not worth the managing and keeping: No more (dear _Mall_, said I,) no more, what hitherto I have express’d, was but a tryal of thy wit, which since I find so pregnant, thy better parts, thy mind, I will endeavour to enjoy hereafter.