From whence some petty discords would arise,
As, "You're a fool"; and, "You are mighty wise!"
Though he and all the world allowed her wit,
Her voice was shrill, and rather loud than sweet,
When she began,—for hat and sword he'd call.
Then, after a faint kiss, cry, "B'y, dear Moll:
Supper and friends expect me at the Rose."[83]
And, "What, Sir John, you'll get your usual dose!
Go, stink of smoke, and guzzle nasty wine,
Sure, never virtuous love was used like mine!"