Dee. I am the servant of God, both by my bound duty, and also (I hope) by His adoption.
A Voice. You shall be beaten if you tell.
She. Am not I a fine maiden? give me leave to play in your house; my mother told me she would come and dwell here.
(She went up and down with most lively gestures of a young girl playing by herself, and divers times another spake to her from the corner of my study by a great perspective glasse, but none was seen beside herself.)
She. Shall I? I will. (Now she seemed to answer me in the foresaid corner of my study.) I pray you let me tarry a little? (Speaking to me in the foresaid corner.)
Dee. Tell me what you are.
She. I pray you let me play with you a little, and I will tell you who I am.
Dee. In the name of Jesus then, tell me.
She. I rejoice in the name of Jesus, and I am a poor little maiden; I am the last but one of my mother’s children; I have little baby children at home.
Dee. Where is your home?