[Let him write a little and then read.]

My pen is naught; gentlemen, lend me a knife. I think the more haste the worst speed.

[Then write again, and after read.]

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 increased to a great flame, and will ere 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, Iam a gentleman of good fame and name, majestical, in parrel 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 farewell. Your servant, Signior Strumbo.

Oh wit! Oh pate! O memory! O hand! O ink! O paper!

Well, now I will send it away. Trompart, Trompart! what a villain is this? Why, sirra, come when your master calls you. Trompart!

[Trompart, entering, saith:]

TROMPART.

Anon, sir.

STRUMBO.

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

TROMPART.

Aye, sir.

STRUMBO.