Strum.

Either the four Elements, the seven Planets and all the particular Stars of the Pole Antartick, are adversitive against me, or else I was begotten and born in the Wain of the Moon, when every thing, as Lactantius in his fourth Book of Constultations doth say, goeth arsward. Ay Masters, ay, you may laugh, but I must weep; you may joy, but I must sorrow; shedding salt Tears from the watry Fountains of my moist dainty fair Eyes, along my comely and smooth Cheeks, in as great plenty as the Water runneth from the Bucking-tubs, or red Wine out of the Hogs-heads: for trust me, Gentlemen and my very good Friends, and so forth: the little god, nay the desperate god Cuprit, with one of his vengible Birds bolts, hath shot me unto the Heel: so not only, but also, oh fine phrase, I burn, I burn, and I burn a, in love, in love, and in love a, ah Strumbo, what hast thou seen, not Dina with the Ass Tom? Yea, with these Eyes thou hast seen her, and therefore pull them out, for they will work thy Bail. Ah Strumbo, hast thou heard the Voice of the Nightingale, but a Voice sweeter than hers, yea, with these Ears hast thou heard them, and therefore cut them off, for they have caus'd thy sorrow. Nay Strumbo, kill thy self, drown thy self, hang thy self, starve thy self. Oh, but then I shall leave my sweet Heart. Oh my Heart! Now Pate for thy Master, I will dite an aliquant Love-pistle to her, and then she hearing the grand verbosity of my Scripture, will love my presently.

My Pen is naught, Gentlemen, lend me a Knife, I think the more haste the worst speed.

So it is, Mistress Dorothy, and the sole essence of my Soul, that the little sparkles of affection kindled in me towards your sweet self, hath now increas'd to a great flame, and will e'er it be long consume my poor Heart, except you with the pleasant water of your secret Fountain, quench the furious heat of the same. Alas, I am a Gentleman of good Fame, and Name, majestical, in Apparel comely, in Gate portly. Let not therefore your gentle Heart be so hard, as to despise a proper tall young Man of a handsome Life, and by despising him, not only but also to kill him. Thus expecting time and tide, I bid you farewel. Your Servant, Signior Strumbo.

Oh Wit, O Pate, O Memory, O Hand, O Ink, O Paper. Well, now I will send it away. Trompart, Trompart, what a Villain is this? Why Sirrah, come when your Master calls you. Trompart.

Trompart entring saith,

Anon, Sir.

Strum.

Thou knowest, my pretty Boy, what a good Master I have been to thee ever since I took thee into my service.

Trom.

Ay, Sir.

Strum.

And how I have cherished thee always, as if thou hadst been the fruit of my Loins, Flesh of my Flesh, and Bone of my Bone.

Trom.

Ay, Sir.

Strum.

Then shew thy self herein a trusty Servant, and carry this Letter to Mistress Dorothy, and tell her.—

Strum.

Nay, Masters, you shall see a Marriage by and by. But here she comes. Now must I frame my amorous Passions.