CLOWN

I have herd of many black Jacks Sir, but never of a blue Bottle. No Sir, I am twenty yards without, and the house stands without me. He that dwells in it Sir. He that owes it. I was none of his Godfather. I'll give you a rhyme for that Sir, Sick men may lie, and dead men in their Graves, Few else do lie abed at noon, but Drunkards, Punks, & knaves. What am I the better for thy question? Why then of nothing comes nothing. Then I that am a fool by Art, am better then you that are fools by nature. As men do in hast, to make and end of their business. My business is this Sir, this Sir, and this Sir, No Sir. Because as the learned have very well instructed me, Qui supranos, nihil and nos, and though many Gentlemen will have to do with other men's business, yet from me know, the most partly of them prove knaves for their labour. As you by your good clothes, took them upon trust, & swore I would never pay for em. Well, I could altar mine eyes from filthy mud into fair uva ter: you have paid for my tears, and mine eyes shall prove bank routs, and break out for you, let no man persuade me, I will cry, and every Town betwixt Shoreditch-church and York bridge, shall bear me witness. Oh mistress, if ever you have seen Demoniceacleare look in to mine eyes, mine eyes are Severn, plain Severn, the Thamee, nor the River of Tweed are nothing to em: Nay all the rain that fell at Noahs flood, had not the discretion that my eyes have: that drunk but up the whole world, and I would drowned all the way be betwixt this and London. My news mistress, I'll tell you strange news, the dust up on London way, being so great, that not a Lord, Gentleman, Knight, or Knave could travel, least his eyes should be blown out: At last, they all agreed to hire me to go before them, when I looking but upon this Letter, did with this water, this very water, lay the dust, as well as if it had reigned from the beginning of April to the last of May. But Mistress. Long may he live to enjoy it. From Sir John Harcop of Harcop, in the County of York Knight, by me his man, to your self my young master, by these presents greeting. From London am I come, though not with pipe and Drum, Yet I bring matter, in this poor paper, Will make my young mistress, delighting in kisses, Do as all Maidens will, hearing of such and ill, As to have lost, the thing they wished most, A Husband, a Husband, a pretty sweet Husband, Cry o, o, o, and alas, And at last ho, ho, ho, as I do. O but mistress.