Well said good _Susan_, now thou pay'st her home.


_Bride_.

A little favour pray, good _Mistris Sue_,
You haue a time to heare aswell as speake:
You challenge more by odds then is your due,
And stand on Arguments are childish weake:
Of freedome, liberty, and all content,
But in the aire your breath is vainely spent.

It is your shame to bost you haue your will,
And that you are in feare of no controwle,
Your cases _Sufan_, are more bad and ill,
Most dangerous to body and to soule:
A woman to her will hath oft bin try'd,
To run with errour, on the left hand side.

Pray did not danger then to _Eue_ befall,
When she tooke liberty without her heda,
The _Serpent_ ouercame her therwithall,
And thorow will, she wilfull was misled:
Yelding assoone as _Sathan_ did intice,
And of her husband neuer tooke aduise.

In wit to men we are inferiour far,
For arts for learning, and Ingenious things,
No rare Inuentions in our braynes there are,