And if, by favour or recommandation, he happen to be intrusted with any strong City or Fort that is besieged, he’s presently in fear of his own Bom, and practises all sorts of waies and means how he shall best make a capitulation, that so leaving the place, he may go again to his fair one.

And alas, what doth not the Master of a Ship, and his Mate hazard, when they are sick of this malady?  What terrible colds, and roaring seas doth he not undergo, through an intemperate desire that he hath to be with his nittebritch’d Peggy?  How often doth he hazard his Owners Ship, the Merchants Goods, and his own life, for an inconstant draggle-tail; that perhaps before he has been three daies at Sea, hath drawn her affection from him, and given promise to another?  Yet nevertheless, tho the raging Waves run upon the Ship, and fly over his head, he withstands it all.  Nor is the main Ocean, or blustering Boreas, powerfull enough, to cool his raging fire, and drive those damps out of his brain.  The tempestuousness of the weather, having driven him far out of his course; his only wishes and prayer is, oh, that he might be so happy, but for a moment to see his Beacon, those twinkling eys of his dearly beloved Margery Mussel!  Then all things would be well enough!  Tho he and all that are with him, were immediately Shipwrackt, and made a prey for the Fishes.  And if, unexpectedly, fortune so favour him, that he happens to see the Coast, oh, he cannot tarry for the Pilot! but tho it be misty weather, and he hoodwink’d by Venus, still he sails forward, running all in danger, that before was so far preserved.

And if the Shop-keeper once sets foot into this destructive Wilderness, he doth nothing less then look to his shop, and wait upon his Customers.  Spending most part of his time in finical dressing himself, to accompany his Mistriss, and with a Coach or Pair of Oars to do her all manner of caresses.  Then his whole discourse is, with what good custom he is blest above others; but seldom saies, that with waiting upon his Lady, and by indeavouring to please her above all things, how miserably he neglects it, by which means, shop’s not only found without a Master, but the servants without government.  And at New-year, the day-book is not written fair over; and if any body desires their reckoning, the squire is so full of business, that he can’t spare half an hour to write it out:  For where he goes, where he stands, what he thinks, what he does, all his cogitations are imploi’d to think how delicious it is to press those soft lips of his beloved, and then out of an unfeigned heart to be lov’d again, sometimes receiving a kiss.  Thus he idles away all his time, and all his business with his sences runs a wool-gathering.