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A well-bred woman being above-stairs, and her well-tutor'd Son below, then she call'd to him and said, Come up my Bird. What Bird mother,? says this dutiful Son: Why Whores-Bird Sirrah, says she; By my troth Mother, says he, I think you never spoke truer in your life. Why Sirrah, says she, if that be true, then you are a Bastard. Why Mother, though I be a Bastard. yet I am sure you are not a Whore: For how can she be a Whore, when he is only a Bastard?