She is her mistress's she secretary, and keeps the box of her teeth, her
hair, and her painting very private. Her industry is upstairs and
downstairs, like a drawer; and by her dry hand you may know she is a
sore starcher. If she lie at her master's bed's feet, she is quit of the
green sickness for ever, for she hath terrible dreams when she's awake,
as if she were troubled with the nightmare. She hath a good liking to
dwell in the country, but she holds London the goodliest forest in
England to shelter a great belly. She reads Greene's works over and
over, but is so carried away with the "Mirror of Knighthood," she is
many times resolved to run out of her self and become a lady-errant. The
pedant of the house, though he promise her marriage, cannot grow further
inward with her; she hath paid for her credulity often, and now grows
weary. She likes the form of our marriage very well, in that a woman is
not tied to answer to any articles concerning questions of virginity.
Her mind, her body, and clothes are parcels loosely tacked together, and
for want of good utterance she perpetually laughs out her meaning. Her
mistress and she help to make away time to the idlest purpose that can
be, either for love or money. In brief, these chambermaids are like
lotteries: you may draw twenty ere one worth anything.