A Lady proud she was, of ancient Blood,
Yet oft her Fear her Pride made crouchen low:
She felt, or fancy'd in her fluttering Mood,
All the Diseases which the Spittles know,
And sought all Physick which the Shops bestow,
And still new Leaches and new Drugs would try,
Her Humour ever wavering to and fro;
For sometimes she would laugh, and sometimes cry,
Then sudden waxed wroth, and all she knew not why.