TRUEPENNY

Nay sweet Monsieur. Of mine honesty I doubt extremely, for I cannot see the little Gods tokens upon you: there is as much diffe rence between you and a Lover, as between a Cuckold and a Unicorn. For you do not wear a pair of ruffled, frowning, un gartered Stockings, Like a Gallant that hides his small timbered legs, with a quail-pipe boot: your hose stands upon too ma nigh points, and are not troubled with that falling sickness, which follows pale, meager, miserable, melancholy Lovers: your hands are not groping continually. Signior no. Ita, true, certes, he spied, & I spitting thus, went thus. Lady Imperia (the Courtezans Zani) hath brought you this letter, from the poor Gentleman in the deep dungeon, but would not stay till he had and answer. Why sir, did my Mistress prick you with the Spanish needle of her love, before I summoned you (from her) to this parley? In your greasy pocket sir, Like one that wants a Cloak for the rain, and yet is still weatherbeaten: your hat nor head are not of the true hey-ho-blocke, for it should be broad brimmed, lymber, Like the skin of a white pudding when the meat is out: the Facing fatty: the Felt dusty, and not entered into any band, but your hat is of the nature of a lose, light, heavy-swelling wench, too strait laced: I tell you Monsieur, a Lover should be all lose from the sole of the foot rising upward; and from the Bases, or confines of the Slop, fall ling downwards: if you were in my Mistress's Chamber, you should find othergate privy signs of love hanging out there. O sir, a Page must have a Cats eye, a Spaniels leg, a whores tongue (a little tasting of the Cog) a Catchpoles hand, what he gripes is his own; and a little little baudy. By the nine Worthies, worthy Gallants not I; I a Gen tleman for Conveyance? I Sir Pandarus? would Troy then were in my breeches, and I burned worse then poor Troy: sweet Sig nior you know, I know, and all Venice knows, that my Mistress scorns double dealing with her heals. No point per mafoy, you see I have many tongues speak for me. You hold a my side, and therefore I must needs stick to you, 'tis true: I going, he followed; and following, fingered me, joust as your worship does now: but I struggled and straggled, and wragled and wragled, and at last cried Vale valete, as I do now, with this fragment of a rhyme: My Lady is grossly fallen in love, and yet her waste is slender, Had I not slipped away, you would have made my buttocks to ̄ der.