Which shot into my Breast now melt and chill me.
Bolts of Ice? Yes most certainly! For the Cold is struck up into her Head, as you may perceive by what follows.
I chatter, shake, and faint with thrilling Fears.
By the way 'tis a mighty wonder to hear a Woman Chatter! But there is no jesting, for the Lady is very bad. She won't be held up by any Means, but Crys out:
——lower yet, down down;
One would think she was learning a Spanel to Sett. But there's something behind.
——no more we'll lift our Eyes,
But prone and dumb, Rot the firm Face of Earth,
With Rivers of incessant scalding Rain.
These Figures are some of them as stiff as Statues, and put me in mind of Sylvesters Dubartas.