CLEREMONT

My good Lord Lion, most happily met wor thy Traefilme, Come gallants, whats the newcs, the season affords us variety, the nouilsts of our time runs on heaps, to glut their itching ears with airy sounds, trotting to'th burse; and in the Temple walk with greater zeal to hear a nouall lie, then a pyous Anthum though chanted by Cherubins. Thats as their intelligence serves. But Like to be, and shall have in dowry with the Princess this Kingdom of Cycele. I could wish their experience answered their loves, Then should the much too much wronged Phylaster, Possess his right in spite of Done and the devil. It must be ill done, if it be done. Who dos not? This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but a large Inventory of his own commendations. Peace, we are all one soul. He dares not stand the shock. But do you way the danger you are in? Get him another wench, and you bring him to bed indeed. Here's a male spirit fit for Hercules. if ever there be nine worthy of women, this wench shall ride aside and be their Captain. And doubtless 'tis true. The gentry do await it, and the people against their nature, are all for him, and Like a field if standing corn, moved with a stiff gale: their heads bow all one way, Why Gentlemen, 'tis without question so. It will be best. Here he comes. Good morrow to your honour: We have spent some time in seeking you. Sir, remember this is your honoured friend, that comes to do his service, and will show you why he uttered this. And she was taken with her boy. How, you my Lord? Have you known him so ill tempered? He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough, His greatest fault is, he Hunt's too much in the purlewes, Would he would leave off poaching. Faith no great matter to speak of: a foolish twinkling with the eye, that spoils her coat, but he must be a cunning Herald that finds it. My Lord Leon — Nor will be, I think. There's already a thousand fatherlesle tales amongst us, Some say, her horse run away with her; some, a wolf pursued her; Others, it a plot to kill her, and that armed men were seen In the wood: but questionless, she road away willingly. No more smell sweet it self, if once the lungs be but corrupted. Lady, you must go search too. That you shall, and receive thanks. Stay sir, what are you? Revenge, for what? Help to lead him hence. Fear it not, their overwise heads Will think it but a trick. Yes, but the king must know, it's not in his powor to war with heaven. We dally Gentlemen. She waits your grace. The City up, this was above our wishes. No, no, it'll but loose time. Yet you'd not believe this. Oh very well Sir. There would be little got by it, ene keep you as you are. He is so, but not married yet. Do we love heaven and honour? We all are satisfied within our selves. 'Twill move him. He hath many friends. How do your worth sir.