In-Text |
but my Angel ) If ye Monks are such rigid Mortifiers of your Hearts and Senses, how comes it to pass that the Popish Alewife yonder, bedaubs a strict-liv'd Man amongst you, whom ye have lately sent to hear the Confessions of the Nuns at Cambray. I confess, Her Tongue is the foulest and filthiest of all that ever I heard word it; |
but my Angel) If you Monks Are such rigid Mortifiers of your Hearts and Senses, how comes it to pass that the Popish Alewife yonder, bedaub a strict-lived Man among you, whom you have lately sent to hear the Confessions of the Nuns At Cambray. I confess, Her Tongue is the Foulest and filthiest of all that ever I herd word it; |
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