Second with Wine, a mutchkin, thrice a weeke
Pack’d in her pocket, for it might not speeke:
Thus Females have extreames, and two we see,
Eyther too wicked, or too good they be;
For being good no Creature can excell them,
And being bad, no ill can paralell them:
But sure this gift, from course of nature came,
Rais’d up by Heaven to be my nursing Dame;
For she a Savage bred, yet shew more Love
And humane pitty, then desert could moove: