Up and down the town she romped and scolded, earning the name which Middleton gave her in her green girlhood.  ’She has the spirit of four great parishes,’ says the wit in the comedy, ’and a voice that will drown all the city.’  If a gallant stood in the way, she drew upon him in an instant, and he must be a clever swordsman to hold his ground against the tomboy who had laid low the German fencer himself.  A good fellow always, she had ever a merry word for the passer-by, and so sharp was her tongue that none ever put a trick upon her.  Not to know Moll was to be inglorious, and she ’slipped from one company to another like a fat eel between a Dutchman’s fingers.’  Now at Parker’s Ordinary, now at the Bear Garden, she frequented only the haunts of men, and not until old age came upon her did she endure patiently the presence of women.

Her voice and speech were suited to the galligaskin.  She was a true disciple of Maltre Francois, hating nothing so much as mincing obscenity, and if she flavoured her discourse with many a blasphemous quip, the blasphemy was ‘not so malicious as customary.’  Like the blood she was, she loved good ale and wine; and she regarded it among her proudest titles to renown that she was the first of women to smoke tobacco.  Many was the pound of best Virginian that she bought of Mistress Gallipot, and the pipe, with monkey, dog, and eagle, is her constant emblem.  Her antic attire, the fearless courage of her pranks, now and again involved her in disgrace or even jeopardised her freedom; but her unchanging gaiety made light of disaster, and still she laughed and rollicked in defiance of prude and pedant.

Her companion in many a fantastical adventure was Banks, the vintner of Cheapside, that same Banks who taught his horse to dance and shod him with silver.  Now once upon a time a right witty sport was devised between them.  The vintner bet Moll L20 that she would not ride from Charing Cross to Shoreditch astraddle on horseback, in breeches and doublet, boots and spurs.

The hoyden took him up in a moment, and added of her own devilry a trumpet and banner.  She set out from Charing Cross bravely enough, and a trumpeter being an unwonted spectacle, the eyes of all the town were clapped upon her.  Yet none knew her until she reached Bishopsgate, where an orange-wench set up the cry, ‘Moll Cutpurse on horseback!’ Instantly the cavalier was surrounded by a noisy mob.  Some would have torn her from the saddle for an imagined insult upon womanhood, others, more wisely minded, laughed at the prank with good-humoured merriment.  Every minute the throng grew denser, and it had fared hardly with roystering Moll, had not a wedding and the arrest of a debtor presently distracted the gaping idlers.  As the mob turned to gaze at the fresh wonder, she spurred her horse until she gained Newington by an unfrequented lane.  There she waited until night should cover her progress to Shoreditch, and thus peacefully she returned home to lighten the vintner’s pocket of twenty pounds.