Not so much, but their very breath
Is sophisticated with Amber-pellets, and kissing causes.
Marry a woman, Scholer? thou vndergo’st an harder task,
Then those bold Spirits, that did vndertake
To steale the great Turke into Christendome.
A woman! she’s an Angell at ten, a Saint at fifteene,
A Deuill at fortie, and a Witch at fourescore.
If you will marry, marry none of these:
Neither the faire, nor the foule; the rich, nor the poore;
The good, nor the bad.