University of Virginia Library

A Vnquiet Woman, 37.

Shee is a Thing, much worse to keepe than knaw;
A Beast that brooks Subjection to no Law.
The Mischiefe, and the Miserie of Man,
That scarcely can descrybed bee: and whan
It is, into the verie Hearts and Heads
Of Law and Reason, Detesttaion breeds.
For her Demeanures, they indeede are Theams,
Which aye and onlie stand into Extreams.
Her Words and Voyce, the scrighing of an Owle,
That to affright Men, on the Night doth yowle.
Her Eyes, even as the Cockatrice, doe kill:
Her Hands, the Clawes are of the Crocadill.
Her Heart, a Cabinet, that doth containe
All that is naughtie, vicious, and prophane.
Tyme shee abuseth, and shee woundeth Wit:
No Reason shee regards, bot wrongeth it.
Shee is impure, her Pryde vnsupportable:
Her Malice, matchlesse, Will, vnsatiable.
Shee doth respect, nor anie person spares:
Defame shee fears not, nor for Counsell cares.
Her Wit is Will, Command, is, Must, not No:
Her Reason, Shall; her Satisfaction, So.
Shee cannot loue, lyke, nor allowes no Lord,
And doth from Law and Order both debord.
Shee is a Crosse, bot not of Christ, a Crosse:
A Griefe to Nature, and to Lyfe a Losse.
And from her Birth, shee's emptie of all Grace:
A Plague to Pietie, a Foe to Peace.
A Wracke of Wealth, a Wrangler, full of Wrath:
Most Tarte in Taste, and in Digestion, Death.