On the Ladie Seem-pol

Drest like her self, her feat discourse is drawn
Latinify'd in fine spun Cobweb lawn;
Each flatuous word swels with verbositie,
And speaks how skild she is in Sophistrie:
How wise your babes would be, if they, so young,
Should learne from you to speak their mother tongue?
Nay she learn'd Aristotle; dares confute
Or, with Bengeli, of the Stars dispute?
Far above humane, much more, womans reach
Or laugh at him that did oth' Sunday preach:
Thus at her tongue most rarely good is she:
She's at her tail as good, or fame doth lie.