Who _bound_ thee first, and now have made thee free? Thy petulant discourse, and apish toying, A change of humours, now a sullen coying, All which I taught thee, which do make thee rare, Now are thy Attributes as well as fair: And what content is in a simpering fool, A squeamish thing, she doth mans spirits cool; Beats back the flowing current of his blood, And ebbs it in the very spring or floud, ’Tis harsh to hear a School boy in one tone Repeat his lesson like a Bagpipes drone, But it doth ravish with delight the ear Well worded and sweet languag’d lines to hear, Pronounc’d by one hath skill and art to know When he should raise his voyce, when bring it low. For though a Poet write good Lines, it is The speaker that doth make them hit or miss. So though a Wench be nere so fair, so neat, Or well proportion’d, if she wont the feat Of acting well upon loves Theater, It will not make mans loving passion stir. She’s like one handsome in a splendid suit, Onely to fit a Stage and play the Mute And shall not go clapt off with frequent kisses, The Lovers _plaudit_, but distastful _hisses_. And such wert thou, when first I met with thee. Now have I brought thee to thy _excellence_ With my excessive toyl, and dear _expence_ Of my best blood; and, added to thee more Then was in all thy _Ancestors_ before _Gentility_. I have enricht thy mind With the chief Ornament of Woman kind Behaviour: Taught thee to live and spend Of thy own gettings, without help of friend. And have I this ungrateful _Girle_ for all That I have done to thee. Why dost thou call Me thy _Undoer_. How e’re I will forgive, For I’m in charity, and do believe The onely cause why I am taxt so sore With thy undoing, ’cause I do no more._ CHAP. XXXIII. _From this Farmers house he rides he cared not whither, On the Road he is strangely surprized by a Woman-robber in Mans apparrel; He discovers it by unbuttoning her Breeches to search for private Pockets within. They two conclude a perpetual Friendship._