Jo. Marstone the last Christmas he daunct with Alderman Mores wives daughter, a Spaniard borne. Fell into a strang commendation of hir witt and beauty. When he had done, shee thought to pay him home, and told him she thought he was a poet. "'Tis true," said he, "for poets fayne and lye, and soe dyd I when I commended your beauty, for you are exceeding foule."