You are the beautiful Bertha, the spinner, the queen of Helvetia; / She whose story I read at a stall in the streets of Southampton
Hee may perchance, in taile of a Sheriffes dinner, / Skip with a rime o’the Table, from New-nothing, / And take his Almaine-leape into a custard, / Shall make my Lad Maioresse, and her sisters, / Laugh all their hoods ouer their shoulders.
And source of things, Shall, with inlighted rays, Pierce all their ways!
Slick, she bamboozles the ogles / of old Lilly Law.
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