A POST WITH a mad Packet of Letters. LONDON Printed for john Smethicke, and are to be sold at his Shop in S. Dunston's Churchyard in Fleetstreet. 1602. To the Reader. GEntle if you be, be you so gentle Reader, you shall understand, that I know not when, there came a Post I know not whence, was going I know not whither, and carried I know not what: But in his way I know not how, it was his hap with lack of heed, to let fall a Packet of Idle Papers; the superscription whereof, being only to him that finds it, being my fortune to light on it, seeing no greater style in the direction, fell to opening of the enclosure, in which I found divers Letters written, to whom, or from whom, I could not learn. Now for the Contents of the Circumstances, when you have read them, judge of them: and as you like them, regard them. And for myself, if I hear you like well of them, when I meet next with the Post, it may be I will cast about with him for more of them: till then, fearing to be too tedious in this Letter, lest you like the worse of that which followeth: I rest as I have reason. Your loving friend, Nicho. Breton. The Contents of this Book. A Letter of comfortable advise to a friend, and his answer. A Letter of advise to a young Cour●er, and his answer. A mournful Letter to a brother, and his answer. A Letter of a jealous husband to his wife, and her cunning answer. A Letter of kind Compliments to a friend, and his answer. A Letter of love to a Gentle woman and her answer. A Letter of scorn to a coy Dame, and her answer. A Letter to a fowl Dowde, and her answer. A Letter for the preferring of a servant, and the answer. A Letter of counsel to a friend, and his answer. A Letter of comfort to a sister in sorrow, and her answer. A Letter of counsel from a kind Father. A kind answer of a loving son. A Merchant's Letter to his Factor, and his answer. A Letter of challenge, and the answer. A merry Letter, or newe● of complaints. The answer of the Laugh. A Letter to a friend for news, and his answer. A dissuading from marriage, and the answer. A kind Letter of a Creditor for money. The debtor answer. A Letter of News, and the answer. A Post with a mad Packet Of Letters. A Letter of comfortable advise to a Friend. Honest Alexander, I hear thou art of late tallen into an extreme melancholy, by reason of the sudden departure of Pannella out of this life: for thy sake I am sorry she hath left her passage on this earth, though being too goo●●or this world, she be surely gone to a better; now, if thy mourning could recover her from death, I could willingly bear part of thy passion, but when it doth her no good, and thyself much hurt, let not a wilful humour lead thee into a woeful Consumption. Thou knowest she is senseless in the grave, and wilt thou therefore be witless in the world? Say thy love is extreme, and l●t me believe it, wilt thou therefore deprive nature of reason? God forbid it: well, thou knowest I lent thee, and in my love let me adu●se thee, not to go from thyself, with an imagination of what was, to looseth it which is: because she is in heaven, wilt thou be in hell? or if sh● be half an Angel, wilt thou be more than half a devil? ●● spend thy spirit in a better humour: let not the remembrance of her perfection drive thee into unperfections: nor make love hateful to other, by seeing the unhappiness in thyself. O● let not sancte show folly in thee, howsoever virtue deserved honour in her: Leave thy solitary humour, and come and live with me, we will dance some good meane● for the remove of this melancholy: In the meantime make not too much of it, lest it prove to a madness: Love thyself, and belee●● thy friend, and what is in me to too thee good, command as thin● own: glad I would be to see thee, as he who defy entirely lous thee: and so desirous to hear from thee, to the Almighty I leau● thee. Farewell. Thine as his owns. D. F. His Answer. Kind Francke, I have received thy friendly Letter, and note thy careful love: but pardon me, if I do not answer thee to thy liking: Alas, how can he truly judge of life, that never kindly was in love? or know how sound to help a sorrow, that never inwardly felt it? reading makes a scholar by rule, and observation I know doth much in the perfecting of Art, but experience is that which toucheth knowledge to the quick; My mistress beauty was no Moon shine, whose virtue gave light to the heart's eye, nor her wisdom, an ordinary wit, which put reason to his perfect understanding: and for her Graces, are they not written among the virtuous? Thou saidst well, she was too heavenvly a creature to make her habitation on this earth, & is it not then a kind of hell, to be without her in the world? Imaginations are no dreams, where substances are the objects of the senses, while the eye of memory, is never weary of seeing. Oh honest Francke, think thou hast not lived, that hast not loved, nor canst live in this world to have such a love to die in: It is a dull spirit that is fed with oblivion, and a dead sense, that hath no feeling of love: think therefore what was, is with me: and myself as nothing, without the enjoying of that something, which was to me as all in all. Is not the presence of an Angel, able to ravish the sight of a man? And is not the light of Beauty the life of love? Leave then to burden me with imperfections in my sorrow for her want, whose presence was my paradise, and whose absence, my world● hell: thou dost misconstrue my good, in languishing for her lack, and knowest not my hurt, in thinking of any other comfort: ●o Francke, let it suffice, though I love thee, I cannot forget her: and though I live with thee, yet will I die for her: have patience then with my passion, till time better temper my affection, in which most divoted to thee of any man living, till I let thee, which shall be as shortly as I well can, I rest. Thine as thou knowest. D. E. A Letter of advise to a young Courtier. My good Cousin, I hear you are of late grown a great Courtier, I wish you much grace, and the continuing of your best comfort: but for that your years have not had time to see much, and your kindness may hap to be abused, let me entreat you a little now and then to look to that which I tell you: Keep your purse warily, and your credit charily, your reputation valiantly, and your honour carefully: for your friends, as you find them, use them: for your enemies, fear them not, but look to them: for your love, let it be secret in the bestowing, and discreet in the placing: for, if fancy be a wanton, wit will be a fool: Scorn not Ladies, for they are worthy to be loved: but make not love to many, left thou be beloved of none: if thou hast a favour, be not proud of thy fortune, but think it discretion, to conceal a contentment: go neat, but not gay, left it argue lightness, and take heed of lavish expense, left it beggar thy state: play little, and lose not much, use exercise, but make no toil of a pleasure: Read much, but dull not thy brain, and confer but with the wise, so shalt thou get understanding. Pride is a kind of coyness, which is a little too womanish, and common familiarity, is too near the Clown for a Courtier: but carry thyself even, that thou mayst fall on neither side: so will the wise commend thee, and the better sort affect thee: but let me not be tedious, left it may perhaps offend thee: and therefore as I live, let it suffice I love thee, And so wishing thee as much good, as thou canst wish to be wished, in prayer for thy health, and hope of thy happiness, to my uttermost power, I rest, in affectionate good will. Thine ever assured: H. L. His Answer. Sweet Cousin, I think you have either some Court in the Country, or else you are much studied in the Courtier, that you can set down such rules, as are no less worthy the reading, then observing: believe me, they shall be my best leizures studies, and in my daily courses my counsellors, my solicitors in love, and my Judges in honour, my guiders in greatest hopes, and my admonitions in greatest dangers: for your pains in them, I thank you, and for your kindness, I love you: your care of me, I see by them, and will not unkindly forget them. I must confess, I find Courtiers close people, and Ladies strange creatures, and love so idle an humour, that I am afraid to lose time in it: but the better by your advise I hope to carry a hand over it. For apparel, I will keep my stint, and care for no fond fashion: and for exercise, nature is so given to ease, that good qualities are almost cut of use: and for virtue, poor Lady, she is scarce able to live with her pension: but for study, I have little time, so much company withdraweth me●a●d for a book, next the Bible, your Letter shall be my Library. And thus smiling at such G●lls, as think no grace, but in a gay coat, nor wit, but in a stale jest, noting many a beggar like a king, and many a Lord like a poor gentleman, seeing the truth of Solomon, in his conclusion of all earthly comforts that all under that Sun is vanity: meaning not to be a servant to a base humour, nor to reach higher than I may hold 〈◊〉 thankful kindness for thy careful Letter, and faithful affection to thy worthy self, wishing thee so near me, that I might never be from thee, I rest. Thine what mine own. N. B. A mournful Letter to a brother. GOod brother, the misery of my home life, the crossness of my cruel fortune, and the unkindness of my unnatural kin, have made me so weary of this world, that I long for nothing but my latest hour, and yet loath to despair of God's mercies, willing, to take any good course for my commodity, I have of late been persuaded by some of experience in their travails into those parts, that my travail into the low Countries would be much to my commodity, as well for my language as my skill in such traffic, as I would make use of in those places: but my state being so down the wind, that I know not how to get up the weather, having no stock to lay out, to give me hope to bring in, I will even set up my rest upon my resolution o●sc●une, and thrust myself into some place of service, where I will either win the horse, or lose the saddle as If I d●, mercy is my comfort, if I live, desert is my hope: but to the helping forth of this my forlorn spirit, good brother put too your hand, assuring yourself, that I will not live to be ungrateful: for as my heart loveth you, my soul shall pray for you, and when I have time to see you, I will not be from you. And thus aggrieved to charge you, never more meaning to trouble you: beseeching God to enable me to requite you, in the true love of a natural brother: I rest. Yours as mine own. N. B. His Answer. Dear brother, as I grieve at your crosses, so would I that I could as well procure your comforts. But my state much inferior to my will, makes me unable to satisfy your expectation: & yet will I hurt myself, rather than you should perish: for you shall receive by this bearer, what I am able, and more, as I shallbe better able. But touching your courses for the low Countries, I fear your traffic will be but little gainful, the wars so eat up the wealth of the country: and for your intent touching arms, I fear your forwardness is too great for your experience. Yet do I so far allow of your good mind herein, as I should less grieve to hear of your honourable death abroad, them see your discontented life at home: and therefore for winning the horse, or losing the saddle, leave that to God's blessing, who will bestow honour as it shall please his divine providence: but good brother, have patience with thy crosses, attend mercy for thy comforts, & have a care of home, howsoever thou farest abroad: I know thy mind is great, but take heed of pride lest it be a bar to all thy fortune, and overthrow of all thine honour: I see thou art weary of the world, make them thy way toward heaven, that God, who hath tried thee with calamities, may bless thee with eternal comforts. In hope whereof, willing in all I can to help thee, praying heartily for thee, with my unfeigned hearts love unto thee, to the Lord of heaven I leave thee. Thy loving brother, D. S. A Letter of a jealous husband to his wife. WIfe, in as much kindness as I can, I advise you to lean such courses, as are neither to your credit, nor my contentment: you know, much company, causes many occasions of Idle speeches, and young men are not in these days, given to speak the best of their kind friends: trifles and toys, were better refused, than accepted, and time idly spent, brings but beggary, or a worse blot: of all the birds in the field, I love not a Cuckoo in my house: truly I do not dissemble with you, your light behaviour doth much dislike me, and how glad I would be to have it reform, you shall know when I s●e it: shall I make you fine, to please an other, and displease myself? shall I leave you my house, to make an hospitality of ill fellowship? ●it me not so with the fool, how ever you feed yourself with a foul humour: shake off such acquaintance, as gain you nothing but discredit, and make much of him that must as well winter you as summer you: Look to your house, have a care over your children, set your servants to work, and have an eye to the main chance, leave tattling gossips, Idle hus wives', vain headed fellows and needless charge, so will God bless you, and the world will thrive with you, your neighbours speak well of you, and I shall truly love you. And thus, hoping that you will by this my secret admenition, have a care of your good carriage, I rest in hope of your well doing. Your loving husband▪ T. F. Her cunning Answer. Husband's, with as much patience as I can, I have red over your unwise Letter, wherein jealousy keeps such a stir, that love doth but laugh at such jolenesse: much company drives away idle thoughts, and for fools it is good to be afraid of had I wist: Ill thoughts beget ill speeches, and an old dog bites sorer than a young whelp: for beggary, let it fall upon the slothful, I know how to work for my ●uing: and for blots, speak to scribblers, for I have no skill in writing. Now for the Bird, to answer you with the Beast: I think a Calf in a Closet, is as ill as a Cuckoo in a Cage: If I were sullen, you would sure suspect my humour, and do you mislike my merry behaviour? well, your conceit may be deformed, in being so wrongfully informed, to have me so suddenly reform. My fineness, is your countenance, and my conversation, your credit: and therefore do you shake off your lousy humours, I will make choice of better company: your house will stand fast, if it fall not, and your children be quieter than their Father, your servants earn their wages, and the main chance, is nicked w●ll enough: Women must talk when they meet, and men not be scorned, though not entertained: and he that keepeth a house, must seek to defray the charge. And so hoping that you will leave your jealousy, and think of some ma●ter of more worth, as careful of my carriage, as you of your credit, meaning to ●o as well as I can without your teaching, and as well, as if you were at home. I rest. Your too much loving wife. ay, F. A Letter of kind Compliments to a Friend. WHere I love much, I speak little, for affection hath small pleasure in ceremonies, your kindness I have found, my desert I dare not speak of, lest it more offend myself to think on, than you to look on, but since you have made me happy in your acquaintance, let me not too long lack your company, for though I live among many good neighbour's▪ yet do I much want the comfort of so good a friend, by wh●m I should not only gain the use of Time, but fin●● the pr●fi● of my desire: which joining issue with your humours, cannot ●ut so concur with your contentment, that if there be a paradise on the earth, I hope to find it in the fair passages of our loves, which grounded on virtue, and growing in kindness, cannot choose but be blessedly fruitful. In brief, till I see you, I will mourn, and if not the sooner, I shall languish: for, my wishing and want cannot be satisfied with absence: hasten therefore your coming, and make your own welcome: for what I have or 〈◊〉, enter in the ●owle of your possession, where in the freehold of my love, I assure the substance of my life. And so leaving compliments, to t●ngue spirits, in the truth of an honest heart: I rest. Yours as you do and shall ever know me. N. B. His Answer. S●●, I have received your kind Letter, and I find you ver●e fine at your corner, you will speak, and say nothing: be eloquent in plainness, but you must not speak in the clouds, to them that are acquainted with the Moon: and say what you will, I must believe of myself what I list: for indeed, I know mine own unworthiness, of your commendation, in which, I will rather bear with your affection, then be conceited with your opinion. Yet, not to be either disdainful, or ungrateful, be not so far deceived in my disposition, that wherein my presence may pleasure you, I will answer you with ●ine absence, nor long delay your expectation: for excuse, is but cold kindness, and too much haste is not fit: therefore assoon as I conveniently can, I assure you, you shall seem, and in full measure with your affection find me, to the uttermost of my power, rather in action then protestation, during life: in fair weather or fowl. Yours 〈◊〉 mine own. W. R. A Letter of Love to a Gentlewoman. Fair Mistress', to Court you with eloquence, were as ill as to grieve you with gross● humours: let it therefore please you, rather to believe what I write, th●n to note how I speak, for my heart being fired in your eyes, hath vowed my service to your beauty: in which, finding reasons admiration, can think but of nature in her perfection: in which, being ravished about itself, craveth of your favour to be instructed by your kindness: I mean no further then in obedience to your commandment: for if I be any thing myself, it shall be nothing more than yours: and less than nothing, if not yours in all. I could commend you above that skies, compare you with the Sun●e, or set you among the Stars, figure you with the Phoenix, and imagine you a Goddess: but I will leave such weak praising fictions, and think you only yourself: whose virtuous beauty, and whose honourable discretion, in the care of a little kindness, is able to command the love of the wife, and the labours of the honest, with the best of their endeavours in the happiness of your employment, to seek the height of their fortune: think not therefore I flatter you in hope of favour, but honour you in the desert of worthiness: in which if you will vouchsafe to entertain the service of my affection, what you shall find in my love, I will leave to your kindness to consider. In the care of which comfort, craving pardon to my presumption, I rest humbly and wholly, Yours directed to be commanded. E. W. Her Answer. SIr, I have heard scholars say, that it is Art to conceal Art, and that under a face of simplicity, is hidden much subtlety: of which, how silly Women need to be afraid, I will leave to wise men to consider. And though I cannot in fine nor fit terms, answer the humour of your writing, yet after a plain and homely fashion, I will entreat you to accept of my writing: Perfection and corruption, cannot méet● together in one subject, and therefore my imagined ●●a●tie, bring but a shadow of deceit, believe not your eyes, till they have a better speculation: and for the inward parts of commendations, I am persuaded, that wit is not worth any thing, that is drawn into admiration of nothing: only this, not unkindly to requited your good thoughts of little worth, leaving fi●i●ns ●o idle fancies, let me entreat you not to mistake your figures, and to honour a better substance than my unworthy self. And yet, so far to assure your desert of my contentment, that wherein I may conveniently counter●aile the care of your kindness, excuse my indiscretion, if I fail of my desire, in which, wishing you more happiness, then to be commanded by my unworthiness, I rest as I may. Your loving poor friend. M. W. A Letter of scorn to a coy Dame. Mistress Fubbes, if you were but a little fair, I see you would be mightily proud, and had you but the wit of a Goose, you would surely out hiss the Gander: but, being with as bad qualities as can be wished, as rich as a new shorn sheep, I hope, fortune is not so mad, as to bless you further than the beggar: It is not your holiday face put on, after the ill-favoured fashion, can make your half Nose, but ugly in a true sight: and but that you are exceedingly beholding to the Tailor, you might be set up for the Sign of the Sea Crabbe. Now, for your parentage, to help out the hope of all the rest, when the Tinker's son, and the cobblers daughter, met under a hedge at the milking of a Bull, within forties weeks after, what fell out you know. Now, not too plainly to lay open the ●owle members of a filthy carcase, but, as patiently as I can to keep Decorum, in your description, l●t me tell you, that all this, and much more, being true in your disgraces, I cannot choose but ma●●aile, that you mourn not to death in imagination: to think, that a monster in nature, can have any grace in reason, but, let it be as it is: I have ●ut lost a little breath in talking to a deaf ear, for I mean ●o take no more travel to the subject of so ill an object: and therefore meaning to make my farewell and beginning with you, both at one instant, leaving you to loath yourself, as one, whom no creature can well be in love withal: sorry that I ever saw you, and never more intending to trouble you. In recompense of your course entertainment, I rest in all unkindness: this present and always. Yours as much as may be. T. E. Her Answer. Master Swash, it is not your hustie rusty, can make me afraid of your big looks: for I saw the pla●e of Ancient Pistol, where a craking coward was well cudgeled for his knavery: your railing is so near the Rascal, that I am almost ashamed to bestow so good a name as the Rogue upon you▪ but for modesty's sake, I will a little forbear you, and only tell you, that a hanging look●, and a hollow heart, a cunning wit, and a corrupted conscience, make you so ●●t a mate for the devil, that there is no Christian will desire your company: now for your state, it is much upon fortune, which brings many of your fellows to a deadly fall, when the pain of their heads is only healed with a halter: and for your lineage, when the Bearwards Ape, and the hangman's Monkey met together on a hay mow, what a whelp cam● of such of such a litter, let the world judge, I say nothing: now for your stump feet, and your lame hand, suiting kindly with your wry neck, who would not make of their eyes, that could endure the sight of such a picture? now, your wealth being but in a few words, which you have almost all spent in idle humours, hoping that the Tortus will not quarrel with the Crab, and that when you have slept upon your Al●, you will get a medicine for your madness, till the Woodcock do tell you how the Dawcock hath caught you, leaning further to think on you, more than utterly to loathe you, glad that your entertainment was so much to your discontentment: In full measure with your malice, I rest. Yours as you see. A. W. A Letter to a fowl Dowd●e. Mistress, I hear that you think yourself fair, but you are much deceived, for the Curriers Dyle, is but a coarse kind of painting: and for wit, how far you are from understanding, the wise can tell you: now, for qualities, where you learned them I know not, but if you could leave them, ●wer● well: I wonder not a little, what madness hath possessed your brains, that you can make so much of yourself: are your eyes your own: or are they so sealed they cannot see? get you to your prayers, and leave making of love, for age and an evil favour, ha● need to be helped with a good purs●: I hear you study Music, indeed, when an Owl sings, the Nightingale will hold her peace: but for shame learn not to dance, for a barrel can but tumble: but if you would use a medicine for your teeth, you might be the better to speak with in a morning: what ails you to buy a ●anne, except it be to hide your face? and till your hande● be whole, you s●ould wear but dog's leather for your gloves: In truth you abuse yourself, that you keep not your chamber, for none sees you but laughs at you, or at least loatheth to look upon you: be therefore content to do as I wish you, speak with none but by Attorney, leave the Painter to better Pictures, and rather grieve at nature for framing of you, then think of any thing that may help you: your goods bestow on me for my counsel, and make suit to Death for your comfort. And thus hoping that being weary of yourself, you will hasten to your grave, I end. Yours as you see. H. I. Her Answer. SIr you may think yourself wise, but you do not show it, for railing words, are the worst testimonies of a good wit: for good qualities I think you know them not, nor can go from the evil: but for madness, I think it sorteth best with your humour. For the help whereof, it were good that you were let blood in the brain: but for ill sight, who is so blind as bold ba●●rd, that will not see his own folly? my prayers I will not forget to God, to bless me from such foul spirits on the earth, and for love, more than Charity, I hold you the furthest off in my thought: now knowing your poverty, I wonder you will speak of a purse, and for an ill-favoured face, go to Parish garden to your good brother, indeed your Croidon sanguine, is a most pure complexion: but for your Tobacco it is a good purge for your rewine: for my Fan it keeps me sometime from the fight of such a vizard, as your good face: and for my hands I keep my nails on my fingers, though you cannot keep your hair on your head: now for laughing at fools, you are provided for a Corcombe, and for loathing an ill countenance, let the hangman draw your picture: be therefore contented to be thus answered, speak wisely, or hold your peace, and be not busy with your betters, lest you know the nature of had I wist: so, hoping that you will be so weary of the world, that you will hang yourself for a medicine, to heal your wits of a melancholy, I will bequeath you a halter upon free cost, at your pleasure: and so I rest. Your friend for such a matter. E. P. A Letter for the preferring of a servant. SIr, knowing your necessary use of a good servant, and remembering your late speech with me touching such a matter, I thought good to commend unto you in that behalf the bearer hereof W. T. a man whose honest secrecy, and careful diligence, upon a reasonable trial, will soon make proof of his sufficiency: his parentage is not base, nor his disposition vile, but in all parts requisite in one of his place, such a one, as I am persuaded will fit your turn: if therefore at my request, you will entertain him. I doubt not, but you will thank me for him: for I was glad to get him for you, and hope to hear he will much content you: and thus loath to trouble you with longer circumstances, leaving his service to your good regard, and my love, to your like commandment in affectionate good will, I rest. Yours ever assured. N. B. The Answer. SIr, I have received both your Letter, and the bearer, both which I will make much of for your sake: for in the one I will often see you, and in the other remember you: your commendation of him, argueth your knowledge, a sufficient warrant for his worth, which I will as kindly, as thankfully think on: his countenance I like well, and his speech better, and for the performance of my expectation, am the better persuaded of his discretion: when I see you, you shall know how I like him, in the mean time, he shall find that I will love him: for all things necessary for his present use, I find him sufficiently furnished: but if I find his want, it shall be soon supplied. So thanking you for sending him, and wishing you had come with him, remaining your kind debtor ●il a good occasion of requital, with my hearty commendations, I commit you to the Almighty. Your very loving friend. R. T. A Letter of counsel to a friend. MY best approved, and worthiest beloved Philo, I hear by some of late come from Venice, that seem to be somewhat inward in thy acquaintance, that thou art of late, fa●nt into an amorous humour, especially with a subject of too much unworthiness: a news, that (knowing thy spirit) I could hardly believe, but upon solemn affirmation, I was sorry to bear: for, beauty, without wealth, is but a beggarly charu●e, & honour without virtue, is but a little for a Title: hath she a glib tongues it is pity she hath no better wit: is she witti●, it is a sorrow, it is n● better bestowed: for the craft of one woman, is the confusion of many a man: doth she say she loves thee? believe her not: nay, doth she love ●hee? regard it not: for it is a jewel of so little worth, as will give but 〈◊〉 in the buying: I feared the plague had taken hold of thy lodging: but thou art peppered with a world of infection: thy study 〈…〉 with soleness, thy brain with dizziness, and thy spirit with madness: O● leave these follies, think love but a dream, and beauty a shadow, and folly a witch, and repentance a misery: wake out of thy sleep, and call thy wits together, be not sotted with an humour, nor slave to thyself will, leave courting of a Courtesan, and keep thy breath for a better blast: save thy purse for a better purpose, and spend thy time in more profit: let not the wise laugh at thee, and the honest lament thee: for myself, how I grieve for thee, I would I could tell thee: but let thus much suffice thee: believe nothing that she saith, care for nothing that she doth, nor give her any thing that she wants: see her, but to purge melancholy, talk with her, but to sharpen wit, give her, but to be rid of her company, and use her but according to her condition, so shalt thou have a hand over those humours, that would have a head, over thy heart: and be master of thy senses, by the virtue of thy spirit, otherwise, Will having gotten the bit in his teeth, will run away with the bridle: and Reason, being cast off, may never sit well again in the saddle: but why do I use these persuasions for the remove of thy passions? If thou be sound in, thou wilt hardly get out: but if thou be but over shoes, thou mayst be saved from drowning: well, whatsoever I hear, I hope the best, but to a●●●d the worst, I have presumed out of my love, to send thee this fruit o● my affection. In which, if my care may do thee comfort, I ●h●l● think it a great part of my happiness: howsoever it 〈◊〉, I co●●it the consideration to thy kindness. And so till I ●eare from thee, which I daily long for: I rest. Thine as his own. N. R. His answer. Gentle Millo, I have received thy most kind and careful Letter, a messenger of the most honest love, who hath told me no less than I wholly believe: that love in idleness, is the very entrance to madness: but yet, though I will think on thy counsel, give me leave a little, to go on along with conceit: whereof let me tell thee my opinion. Beauty without wealth is little worth: but being a riches in itself, how can it be poorly valued▪ and honour, being but the state of virtue, how can you pluck a little out of her ●tytle▪ the tongue is the instrument of wit, and wit the approver of discretion: where it Reason b● graveled, nature may be admired: now for words they hau● their substance, and love is not to be abused: for it is a jewel well known, that is worthy his price: Intrations are every where, and jealousy a most cruel plague, but rid thyself of that disease, and fear not my health in the other: conceit is a kind of dizziness, which worse tormented then with idleness, is troubled with too strong a madness: but he that is unwise had need to be reform: and he that laughs at an imperfection, may fall himself upon the fool: now for a mad dream, or an imagined witch, a conceited sleep, or an entreated waking, I must confess they are pratie humours, and will think of their errors: now for lotting and slavery, and for courting in knavery, be persuaded, that time will employ my purse to better purpose: then grieu● not for me, but only love me, and let that suffice me: and for thine advice in seeing, talking, and giving, fear not the had●wist of my folly: for he that is master of himself, shall not need to his mistress: and therefore he that cannot ride, let him leave the saddle: for Reason hath a power over 〈◊〉, where 〈◊〉 is but a servant to Nature: in the certainty of which course, intending so to lay my hand on my heart, that I will fear no ho●nes on my head, with many thanks for thy kind perswastons, hoping thou will take no exceptions at my constructions, entreating thee to believe of me no more than thou needest, and to love me as thou dost, in the faith of that affection, that holds th●● bear to my love, I rest: during life. Thine obliged and divoted. W.B. A Letter of comfort to a sister in sorrow. Dear sister, I heard lately of your husband's departure for the Indies, when with no little sorrow I considered your heavy case: in which, finding his wants to be grievous, and your friends cold in comfort, I could not choose, without unkindness, but remember these few lines of my love unto you: I know your state is weak, how fair so ever you make your weather; but the more is your patience worthy honour, that can so nobly conceal your discontentments; for myself, I would I were able to do you good, but what I have, or can procure, shall not fail to do you pleasure: but if your mind be too great to stoop, to be beholding, what I am able to do, take a duty in my brother's love: good sister therefore be of good cheer, and put your care upon me, I will so you often, and love you ever: for a creature of your worthiness is seldom found in your sere: that for her husband's love will adventure the state of her living: your children are not many, but such as are shall be mine, and you to me as myself: take therefore as little thought, and as much comfort as you can, no doubt but God that trieth his servants, will bless them: hope then of my brothers happy return, and fill he come, command me, shortly God willing you shall see me, in the mean time let me entreat you kindly to accept this little token of my greater love, which is but an assurance of a beginning of my affections never ending, in which predicament of true friendship, I rest ever assured. Your very loving sister, E.W. Her answer. Sweet sister, I have received your kind Letter and loving token, for both which, I am your thankful debtor; but touching which husband, though his wants were grievous, yet to want him, is my greatest sorrewe, for in the stay of his love was the state of my living: I am sorry that you know my weakness, and with it but in strength to answer your kindness: but good sister, though I am willing to conceal my crosses, to be beholding to so honourable a spirit, I count i● not the least of my happiness, Therefore, though I have diu●ted myself to solitariness in his absence, your company shall be to me as light in darkness and no●ing the nature of your kindness, will ever be beholding to your love: come then to me when you will, and command me what you will, for I will be as go and you will: my children are my world's joys, and my hearts jewels in whose faces I will behold their father, in whose love I will spend my life: so in a merry go sorry, grieving for his absence's, and wishing your presence, praying for his happy return, your health, and mine own patience, that in too much passion of affection, I fall not upon indiscretion, with most hearty thankful love, I commend my life to your commandment. Yours affectionately bound. E.G. A Letter of love to a fair Mistress. far Mistress, to trouble you with a long circumstance, ● might perhaps fear you with the loss of time, and to make an end ere I begin, might argue little care in my conceit; but to avoid both suspicions, let me a little entreat with your patience, to peruse in a few words, the sum of a long tale, in which, the truth of love, to the latest hour of death, protesteth the joy of ●i● life, but in the fruit of your favour, of which the thought of his unworthiness, tooth too much show his unhappiness. Time makes me too brief, but in your wisdom is my hope of understanding, that in my trial you may trust me, and by desert esteem me: in which, if I deceive your expectation, let me die in the misery of your disdain. Thus not to flatter you with a fair ●●le in the state of your worthy commendation, beseeching to be commanded by the kind care of your discretion, in the hands of avowed service, I humbly rest. Yours always assured, R.O. The Answer. SIr, as I would be loath so be thought proud, I would as unwillingly be found idle: either to believe too well of myself, or, not to have a respect of other: Truth is seldom marked with smooth words, and love is not bred, but upon great contentment: your liking may be greater than my desert, and so alter upon a better consideration: but mistake not your happiness, in my favours unworthiness, where the best of my commandment, may be the least of your contentment. Your consideration of time may excuse my shortness of writing, where in a word you may understand, that in deed I intent: that Truth in honourable in love, and virtue the fairest joy in affection: in which, it I not misconstrue your conce●●, I will answer the care of your kindness: in which, according to the due of desert, you shall find the effects of your desire. And so for this time I rest. Your poor friend. A.T. A Letter of counsel from a kind Father. MY dear son, you must not from your father look for a flattering love, no● take it unkindly, that I suspect your ●ll courses: for I have passed the dangereus tune that you now are in, and have hardly gone through the briars: and therefore in a jealous fear, from an inward care, I cannot ●h●se but give you w●rning of what may prejudice your good. Beauty is a bewitching obied, and wantonness is the ruin of wit: prodigality quickly makes a poor man, and he is only rich that lives contented. But my good son, above all things serve God, and keep a clean conscience, pass not the limits of allegiance, nor build Castles in the air, take h●●d of extremities, for they are out of the course of discretion, and the fruit of Ignorance, yields but the sorrow of repentance: young men may be witty, but ●●ldome wise: and sometime, though ●rt be a great perfecter of Experience, yet observation, is better than conceited ●unning. ●rpence is necessary upon occasion, and hope, is not amiss upon desert: but Reason sometime is more regarded, then rewarded, where ●ill is too powerful to be resisted. I hear that you are much given to Alchemistry, it is a study of great charge to many, and profiteth ●ewe: yet I forbid you no good labour, so that you lose not by the bargain: ●●e therefore a care in the employment of your time, and wherein my helps may further your good, seek no other friend for your comfort. For though I would not wish you to disda●ne any kindness, yet would I have you as little as you may to be beholding to any man: for the prodigal are commonly talkative, and the covetous negative: and what a grief it is to want, ● pray God you never know. Any quality in a mediocrity, ● g●●dly allow you, but let not your love be carried away with ang i●le imagination. I have sent you a hundredth Crowns, w●● may you use them, and when you need any more, send to me for them: for your affection touching marriage, I would it were bestowed as I could with it: however it be, it shall be much amiss, it I mi●k●ke ●. I have sent you likewise a Horse, now and than to manage in a morning, but I pray you forbear to use him as a ●ackney to ride up and down the streets in idle humours. Converse with no fools, for you shall lose time with them: and take heed of knaves, for there is much to be feared in them. Long not after news, lest you be gu●d with a ●east: and take heed of drunkenness, for it is a healthy humour. Make much of thy money, and abuse not thy friend: be careful of thyself, and forget not thy Father, whose earthly joy is but in the hope of thy happiness, and whose deadly sorrow would be to so thee 〈◊〉 amiss. What shall I say more to thee ● thou knowest I love thee, and only in my love am I thus careful over thee. Accept then my admonitions, and ponder upon the constructions, they may hap to 〈◊〉 thee good, but harm they can do thee none: ●se them therefore for thy best avail. After the Term, the bacation will call thee into the Country, where knowing thy Father's house, thou mayst make thine own welcome. ●ill when, and always, I will pray for thee, that God will so bless thee, that I may have joy in thee. Your loving Father, H. W. A kind Answer of a loving son. My dear Father, as I will not flatter myself with your love, so can I not but joy in your kindness: whose careful counsel within the compass of so few words, I will lock up in my heart, as the best jewel of my life: for to serve God, is the duty of a Christian, and no longer let me line, then in the care of that comfort. A clean conscience I find like a clean pair of sheets, where the soul after labours may take a safe place of rest: to pass the limits of allegiance, merits the loss of life, and he is borne ●● happy that is unnatural to his country: and a●ery castles, are but mad men's imaginations: I know extremes are not durable, nor often prefitable: and repentance, a payment, that pincheth the ●art of understanding. I find the instruction of the aged to be the best direction of the youthful, and observation with Experience to make the perfection of Art: the necessity of Experience cannot be allied, but the hope of desert may be deceived: for, while will stands for judgement, there is no holding of argument: touching Al●hamistry, I hear much, but believe little: and for the charge, I will not waste your Land, to make a new metal: but if by my industry I can do good, I will take the benefit of Time: for qualities, I thank your large allowance, the best means with labour to attain them, for Teachers, are worthy their rewards: to be beholding I love not, and hate to be ungrateful: But as I follow not the prodigal, I have little pleasure in the courtous: and for idle imaginations, I can use them as fictions: for your Crowns, I humbly thank you, and hope to bestow them to your 〈◊〉. Your ●orse will do me much pleasure, and cause me to see you the sooner. For galloping the streets, it is like children upon ●obby horses, but gi●●ie heads have such humours, that God knoweth what will become of them: for marriage, though the course be honourable, yet could I be content to forbear it, though in the ●●re●ion of my affection, I will be much ruled by your discretion: Fools cannot understand me, and knaves will but trouble me: but from the company of 〈◊〉 conditions, the Lord of heaven deliver me: good news come never too soon, nor bad too late, and therefore as they are, I will est●●me them: For drunkenness ne●er doubt me, for it is most loathsome to my nature: and for my money, though it being servant, I will hold it as my good friend: for my friend he shall be myself; but my father my heart's love, and my life's comfort: in whose careful admonitions, how kind I f●●de the ininstructions, the obedience of my duty, shall make known to your contentment: the vacation is near, and I will not be long from you: where finding you well, shall be my best welcome: so thinking myself bless in the heavens, to have so good a Father on the earth, beseeching God to make me joyful in your eyes, by the graces of his mercies, in prayer for your long health, with your hearts ever happiness; In all humble thanks, I take my leave. Your obedient son, T.W. A Merchant's Letter to his Factor. As I have reposed trust in your care, I look for your performance of my credit: your ability in managing such matters as I have committed to your charge, I make no doubt of: and therefore hoping in your discretion to hear of my expected contentment, I will look by your next Letters to hear of the sum of my desire: in the meantime, let me tell you, that I have sent you over four score broad clothes, and thirty Carries, with such other commodities as I think fit for your use in those parts, I pray you make your best market, and take heed of your Creditors: for I hear there are men reputed of great wealth, in suspicion to play banquerup●s, have therefore a care of your business, your travels shall not be unconsidered: your French Wines I hear this year are very small, and your Gascoigne Wines very dear, Prunes cheap, but you know your markets, and so I hope you will have care in disbursing your money, for it is hardly come by, and as this world goes, ●ooth much in great matters: if there be any News of wooeth, acquaint me with them, and in any wise, do not trouble me with untruths: your Cou●en tells me that you are in good regard with the Governor for certain clothes that you lately bestowed on him, he told me the cause, and therein I commend your discretion: for sometime it is better to give then to save, when it turneth to advantage. In sum, let this suffice you without further circumstance, you have my love, and my purse, I pray have a care of them both: so till I hear from you, I rest. Your loving Master▪ W.H. His answer. S●●, I beseech you mistrust not your trust, nor have any fear● of my care, for, having both your love and your purse, how can the one let me forget the other: ●o sir, be you assure● howsoever bankers play bankrupt, sure pawns will dece●ue no credit: and touching such affairs as I have in charge, doubt not your expectation of my dispatch: your clothes ● have received, and like them very well, year Carries are very good, I would you had sent more of them, for they are much in request, and well sol●e. I have by good hap met with a hundre● Tun of Gascoigne Wines, upon a good market, as you may know by my note. Prunes are good, and good cheap, and therefore I have sent you the greater store of them, on the ●a●tes you shall find my mark, with two letters of your name. I have sent you likewise, a Tun of Cuchiniles, which I bought by a great chawnce, the price you shall find● in my note with the rest. By the next Post you shall hear what I need, in the mean time having no intelligence of worth, ●oth to trouble you with ●●●tle●, glad to performs that 〈◊〉 that your kindness hath bound me too, wishing to live no longer, then to discharge the office of an honest care, praying for your long health, and everlasting happiness: I humbly take my lean. Your faithful servant▪ C.B. A Letter of challenge. My wrongs are so many, as may no longer be digested, and your excuses so idle, as I will beneforth despise them: for your words are but wind, and therefore I am weary of them: and therefore if you be not of so cold a complexion that you bore not maintain your reputation, meet me to morrow early in the morning in some ●elds a mile out of Town, and bring with you such Arms as you do ordinarily carry, assign your place, a●d hour, and fa●e not your appointment, that God the judge of 〈◊〉, may determine of our wrongs, and the point of the sword may put a period to our discourses, Thus, having blown over an idle paper, with a few last words of my intent, answers me as I expect, or ●eare of me as it will fall out. ●n haste. Your enemy to the death. T.P. The answer. What you have written to me, I return upon yourself, as loath to lose time in answer of such idleness: if you burst go alone, I would go with you, but let it suffice you, that I know ●●u, and therefore mean not to trust you, but bring a friend with you, and I am ready for you: come to my lodging as early as you will, and though I would be loath to break a sleep for you, yet I will take a little pain to answer you: and for the field, we will cast lo●●es for the place, where God, and a good conscience, will quickly determine t●e quarrel: but I fear the point of the sword will make a comma to your ●unning: which if it do, you shall find wh●t will follow, And so leaving further w●rds, wishing you to be as good as your word, I end. Yours as you mine. H.W. A merri● Letter or News of complaints. HOnest George, mine old schoolefellow, and kind friend, glad to hear of thy home quiet, how ever I fare w●●●●y far travel: whereas thou writest unto me, for such News as this place ●eelds, let me tell thee, that there are so many, and so few of them true, that I dare almost write none; only this, upon my knowledge, I dare deliver th●●: that of late in this City, there are a number of complaints, every hour in the day, but all to little purpose. The Soldier complains either of peace, or penury: the Lawyer either of lack of Clients, or cold f●es: the Merchant of small traffic, or ill fortune▪ the Trades man of lack of Chapmen: the labourers of lack of work: the poor● men of lack of charity, and the rich men of lack of money: the th●efe of lack of booties: and the hangman, that his trees are bare: in briefs, if I should tell th●e of all the complaints that I hear of, as well among the Feminine, as Masculine gender, how so●e old women cry out of young unthrifts, and some young wenches complain ●f old misers: How some complain of their customers, and some other of their neighbours, it were such a world of idle sto●●e, as would but trouble thee in the reading: but since their complaints are all to little purpose, for that Soldiers are but for extremities, though honourable in their erploy●●, and Lawyers are some troublesome, except upon agreement of controversies, though judges are worthy honour in execution of justice: and Merchants may bear with fort●ne, when their Coffers are full of coin, though in respect of their traffic, they are the maintenance of the Commonwealth: and Trades men may sell cheap, when their best wares are all uttered, though it is necessary, that they be set on work for the maintenance of the state: and labourers may rest, when their Harvest is in, though it be needful to set them to work for the avoiding of idleness: beggars m●y hold their peac●, when they have filled the patches of their profession, though it is not amiss to relieve them for the exercise of charity: now the rich men may shrug their shoulders, when they have no use for their bags, though sometime it be requeist rather to be sparing, then prodigal: and for th● Th●efe, let him ●●gh till the hangman do help● him: and for th● hangman let him mourn, for he i● sure the devil lie● in wait● for him; and therefore let the old● me●ill munch, and the young titte mourn, I cannot help them, but as I h●are of their complaints, I have written thee the contents, which being scarc● worth the reading, I leave to thy worst using. And so sorry that I have no matter of worth, wherewith better to fit thin● humour, in as much kindness as I can, I commend my love to thy com●●●ndement: and so I 〈◊〉. Thine ever 〈◊〉 his 〈◊〉. W. P. The answer of the l●ugh. MY good wag, I see travel hath not so altered thine humour, but thou wil● ever be thyself with thy ●●ien●s: for thy kind Letter I thank thee, and as kindly as I can, will requi●e thee: as you are there full of sorrow, we are here full of mirth: for in every place there is nothing so common as laughing: one laughs at an other: the wise man laughs at the ●●●le, to see the nature of his imperf●ctions: and the fool laughs at the wise man, because nature lets him know none of his sorrows: the rich man laughs at the poor, to see the manner of his life: and the poor man laughe● at the rich, to s●e the misery of his care: the fair laughs at the soul, to see how they are despised, and the fowl laugh at the fair to see how they are troubled: the honest laugh at the knau●, to see how he shifts with the world: and the knave laughs at the honest, to see how his simplicity is abused; for particulars, how any one laughs at the other, either the old at the youthful, or they at the aged, I dare say nothing: but w●rt thou hare, and had I not the more cause of sorrow, we would laugh a little together to loo●● at the laugher of this world: but they say, he may laugh the wim●es, at least till he lose again: but the natures of their laughing are divers and very strange, for some laugh so loud that they are noted foolish: some laugh so wide, that they shame their mouths with lack of teeth: and some laugh so cunningly, that they ●●●ther it up in a smile: but let them laugh till they be weary, it is a good world when men are merry. Which hoping thou art, or praying thou mayest be, that when we kindly me●t, we may commune better of these conceits, wishing thee all contentment, and myself the pappinesse of thy good company, till I see thee and ever, I rest: one and the same. Thine as thou knowest. R. W. A Letter to a friend for News. Cousin, I know you that live abroad in the world, cannot but hear of news every day, which we here in the Country would be glad now and than to ●ee acquainted with: your labour will not be much in writing, and for your kindness, it shall not be unrequited: we hear much murmuring of many things, but little truth of any thing: but from you that know, I would be glad to learn. There i● a speech among some idle Astronomers, that the man in the Moon hath fal●e in love with a Star, and walking through the clouds, was almost ●rowned in the water: and that the Tumblers of the forest have spoiled a number of black coneys, so that Rabbits are so dear, that a poor man may be glad of a piece of mutton. It is said here with us in these parts, that you of the City are much troubled with a new disease, truly we have reasonable good health, but that there are such plagues in divers houses, what with shrewd wives, and evil husbands, stubborn children, and wicked servants, that many honest men cannot live in quiet with their neighbours. Though the Spring be not very forward, yet there is great increase of many things, especially of children▪ which how they may answer the ●awe, I will not greatly stan● upon. Thus having no matter of moment wherewith at this time to trouble you, entreating you that I may ●●ortly hear from you, I ●est, in much affection. Assuredly yours. R. T. His Answer. MY good Cousin, to answer your kind Letter, if there were any thing here worth the writing, I would not have been so long silent, but such are the occurrents in these places, as are either not worth the noting, or better unspoken the● written: for love in youth is ●o full of idleness, and malice in age so malicious, that virtue is so hid up in corners, that there is little or nothing spoken of her account. For the man of the Moon, I leave him to wait on the Sun, but if he have a mind to any Star, I leave him to follow his owlight: for his watery element, since it is all in clouds, let it hang in the Air, I will not meddle with his loving Astronomy. For Coneys, I am no Warrener, and therefore let them that have the keeping of the grounds, look to their game: I have small sport in such idleness: but for a piece of mutton, a young lamb is worth five old Coneys, and he that is not glad of such a feast, let him fast for his dinner. For our new disease, it is with many men in the head, ● women in the tongue, servants grow great libertines, and children are sick of the parents: and for neighbours, there is so much love in the streets, that there is almost none in the houses: and therefore besides other ordinary diseases, we want no plagues to make us look into our sins. But God amend all, for one s●arc● mend an other: and therefore entreating you to have patience with me till the next week; when you shall hear of the best News that come to my hands, I rest: in bounden good will. Yours as mine own. N. R. A dissuading from marriage. Sweet Cousin, I am sorry to hear, that being so well at ease, you will cousin yourself of your quiet: and for want of a world's hell, you will put yourself into a purgatory with a wife: but if it may be that I speak in time: hear what I s●y, 〈◊〉 she be fair, it may b●eed jealousy: if foul●, dislike, ●nd chau●ge: if rich, take h●●d of prid●: if poor, mis●rie: if young, beware the w●nt●●: if ●l●, take heed of the beldame: if wise, sh●● will governs thee: i● foolish, she will fret thee: how dear soever she love thee, she will sometime or other, either cross or fl●tter thee: and therefore, if thou wilt be ruled by a friend, let neither old nor young, fair nor ●eu'● trouble thee: believe me, as I have read, these are the properties of most wives: to weaken strrin●th, to trouble wit, to empty purses, and to breed humours: but if I be deceived in my reading, or mine Author in his writing, either in altering your course, or proving your comfort, tell me your mind when we meet. Till when, wishing you continuance of that quiet, wherein you now live, or the true contentment of the best love: leaving to your discretion, the managing of your affection, I commit you to the Almighty. Thine ever ●s his own. T. W. The answer. GOod Cou●●n, I find your kindness above your knowledge, in mistaking paradise for purgatory: for, a wife is the wealth of the mind, and the welfare of the heart: where the best judgement of Reason finds Discretions contentment. May b● is a doubt: but what is, must be regarded, in which ●ence I an● pleased: where youth with beauty, and wit with ●ert●●, have power to command, where kindness must obey. poverty I fear not, and wealth I seek not: but it sufficeth ●e to seek no other fortune ●o: the sum of my world's happiness: where the avoiding of evil, and the hope of good, makes me know more comfort than you are able to conceive, till you enter into that course, wher● in the ●oy of love is the second blessedness of this life. What shall I say, but that I know not what to say, to express the perfection of this pleasure, that puts down all idle imaginations: from which, hoping to see thee removed, when I next see thee. Till then and ●uer I rest. Thine as thou knowest. B. D. A kind Letter of a Creditor for money. SI●, I pray you take it not unkindly, that I write thus earnestly unto you, for more necessity, than will hath v●ged me unto it: my m●ny is not much, and you well able to discharge it, the day of payment is past, and I have great occasion to use it, my losses by sea, and ill Creditors by land, make me strain courtesy with my friends, for their good help in an extremity, yet d●● I desire nothing but my due: but as I was ready to lend, I would be glad to receive, with that fullness of good will, that may continue our kindness. I write not this, as doubting your discretion, but t● entreat your patience, if your purse be not in tune: for were I as I have been, and hope to be, I had rather bear ●oo long, than as●● too soon, especially of so good a friend, as I have always found of yourself. Consider therefore of my case, and in your kindness answer me: Time is precious, and therefore lest by disapointment, I be disfurnished, and so perhaps discredited, I pray you speed● your answer: which, howsoever, shall be welcome: and therefore, earnestly entreating you, to help me now, that I may the better ●uil your kindness hereafter, with many thanks for your great favours, which cannot be forgotten to be deserved: I take my leave further at this time to trouble you, but will rest in what I shall be able ever to pleasure you, to make you know how much I love you. Your loving friend at command. T. R. The debtor Answer. SIr, your request is so reasonable, and your kindness so much, that for a greater matter than your demand, if my purse were not in tune, I would strain my credit very far for you: ●eare then with my a little forgetfulness of my day, and think it ●o trouble to my patience, to be put in mind of my credit: your sea losses I am sor●● for, and wish your recovery by land. debtor that will not pa●e, make Creditor's they cannot lend: but for myself, to make you know, how much interest you have in my affection, let me tell you, that though by some inexpected expenses, I am short of my hoped reckoning, yet upon the receipt of your Letter, I have been th●s careful for you: your money I have sent you, and as much more for so long time, I will lend you, which you shall rec●i●e of this bearer: and in my Letter, the day of payment, which if it may pleasure you so much as I wish you, I am glad I had it for you: howsoever it fall out, use it to your own discretion: and so far be always assured of my love, that my word and deed shall be all one in your comfort. And so leaving ceren●on●ous compliments, in unfeigned good will, I rest; Always to my uttermost power. Yours as mine own. D. W. A Letter of News. TO perform my promise in my last Letter, my kind, and best Cousin, you shall understand, of such occurrents, as I hear go currant for truth: I hear there are certain old people, that speak much of Prophecies, where they set it down for a certain rule, that this year, and many to come, he that wants money in his purse, and a friend in the Court, may walk into the Country, and pick straws for his comfort: for the law is very dangerous for begging, and Charity is so cold, that the poor must starve, rather than the rich will want. Old men shall never be young again in this world, and beauty in a young woman, will not let her know herself. Honesty without wit, will die on the fool, and craft without credit, will labour to little purpose. In sum, there will be a great plague among the poor with lack of money, among fools for lack of wit, and knaves, for lack of honesty: but it may be, Nature may alter her course in many things, and Prophecies may fall out in contrarieties. Howsoever it be, welcome that comes on God's name: and so, hoping thou lovest no legerdemain, nor wil●●e led away with blind Prophecies, writing this only for exercise of a merry humour, I rest. Thine what mine. P. R. The Answer. SUch idle Prophets as you meet with, have such kind of matter as you write of: but let the world wag as it list, there is not a truer wag in the world than thyself: and were it not, that I fear my Letter would come to light, I would answer you in your kind. But to be short, let me tell you, that laws are good to take order with such outlaws, as after prodigality, put themselves upon Charity. And yet to cross your rule of little experience, old men may have young humours, fair wenches, put wise men to their wits, and honesty, may thrive with a mean trade, when a crafty knave may lose by his c●●●ing broking. As for the plague, I fear me it is never from you: for if neighbours agree, yet their wives may fall out: and while the poor fret, and the rich frown, there is little hope of health, where the world is so out of quiet. And therefore hoping that you have wit enough, to beware the knave and the fool, and to make your choice of best company: wishing your continuance of your good humour, with thanks for your waggish Letter, I rest, in our old league. Yours as mine 〈◊〉. R. W. A Letter of persuading to marriage. Dear Cousin, I ●oo not a little wonder at your solitary life, and more at your little care to match yourself in marriage with some virgin worthy your love: will you leave the world without memory of your name, your inheritance to no issue of your own honour, and run a course of too little comforts Methinketh, that your knowledge of the diversity of ●ariet●●s should settle your content upon some especial virtue: what if some women be aged, some are youthful, and some fr●war●, other may be kind: and some wanton, there are better stayed: and some sullains, some are loving: and is there n●n● can fit your humour? God forbid: the law of Nature, the law of Reason, the law of God doth will it, that love breed increase by a virtuous conjunction, which cannot be performed, without the honour of this course. Bastard's will be witnesses of their parent's wickedness, when natural children are the joy of their Fathers: and ● a true loving wife, is worth a thousand wild walkers: her care in the house, her kindness at the Table, and her comfort in the bed, are pleasures better conceived then expressed: fall than ab●●rd with such a Bird, as you may hold for your Phoenix, and think thy mind at best liberty when it is ●ree fr●m the bands of folly. In ●ne, let me entreat thee to make thy house a home, thy wi●e thy worlds love, and thy children thine earth's joy: which as I hope ●hou wil● be glad to have, I shall be glad to see. For good speed whereof, in hearty prayer I rest. Thy loving Co●●en, R. W. His Answer. MY kind Cousin, I see you are better red then experienced: for Bachelors wives, and Maidens children, are pretty things to play withal: but he that knows many dangers, will take heed of all. A wife is an everlasting substance, which if it be not of the better nature, is a perilous thing to meddle withal: for if it catch hold of the hands, it may put the heart to a fore pain: and the Phoenix is such a figure, as if I must find he in a woman, I fear me I must seek a great way for her. For the laws that you speak of, I yield to truth, but love is so nice an humour, that he ●l●ome settles in a place: for Bastards, I love not the breed: and better children will do well when they come: For bed and board, and those tricks, let them joy in them that have them, when I f●nd time I will think on them: in the mean time, more at quiet in my lodging with a friend, than perhaps I may be at home with a wife, not forswearing marriage, nor peasting to purgatory, in stead of a mistaken paradise: wishing thy prayers for my better happiness, then loves idleness, and if I do marry to be kindly matched: I rest. Thine a● mine own. D. L. A Letter of unkindness upon a denial of a Courtesy. IF my deserts had not exceeded my desire, I would have hate● the nature of my humour, which loves nothing less than to be too much beholding: my request was not much, and the grant but easy: howsoever for ill fashion, the excuse ●ay be cunningly framed: but though I conceive unkindness in this course, I can rather grieve then be angry: for I will mistrust my wit, till I see too much of my sorrow: and love my friend, though I be plain with his patience: be content therefore rather to let me tell you of my discontent, then to cover a dissimulation, and to wish your better regard of my affection, then to give me just cause to touch the care of your discretion, which in denying a trifle, may lose a greater benefit: but not to go too far in impatience, let me thus grow to an end: Friendship once grounded is not easily removed: and therefore being assured of my love, bear with my dislike: and wherein I may better pleasure you, doubt not the ill requital of unkindness, for I can chide and not be angry, and better love you, then tell you so. And so entreating your reasonable answer for my satisfaction, I rest: all displeasure set apart. Your loving friend. N. S. His answer. YOur humorous kind of writing, puts me to study for an Answer: for your anger without cause, may move caul● of anger: you know you might command what I am, and will you have mor●? Conce●t may be deceived, and so kindness abused, and suspicion of impatience hath the least part of disprison. Excuses are idle among friend's, and therefore words shall be deferred till our meeting: when s●●ing your own f●ul●, you will not think amiss of your friend, grieve not then without cause, nor be carried away with conceit: and as you know my nature, command my love, which is far from the thought to make a friend beholding: be not discontent with a den●all, till you have better reason of displeasure, but measure me with your ●●lfe, and you shall find small cause of difference: if there be any, let kindness dispute it, reason confess ●t, an● patience b●●re it, so shall friends be themselves, and you and I shall not fall out. So hoping that you will sat●●fie yourself with this answers, ti● we m●●t to talk further of the matter, I conclude with your kindness, and rest ever. Yours, as you kn●w, T.W. A Letter to an unthankful person. I Have heard that a Prince sometime ordaining a punishment for all offences, le●t Ingratitude to the gods to plague, as p●●● man● power to punish ●●ough: the Tale may well be true, considering the vileness of such a nature, as I think the ●●ke liveth not in the shape of man. Couldst thou not only forget, but abuse my kindness, and so make a monster of a wicked shadow: I could not have believed it, had I not too we●l proue● it: but I wish you would leave the humour, lest it make a loathsome nature: and though I will not revenge a wrong upon a 〈…〉 to much baseness, yet will I learn to know the condition of so much vileness, and as well warn my friends from an enemy, as further abuse mine own wit with so mistaking of a friend, In brief therefore, let me tell you, as I know you, I regard you, and as I found you I leave you, as one fit, if there lacked a Card, to put in the stock for a wicked help. And so sorry to have lost so much time to write to you, I wish all the world that knows you, to hate you. Your enemy from the heart. D. M. His answer. HOw strangely men will write, that impatience doth put out of order? a good turn is lost, when it is cast in the receivers teeth: and abuse misconceived, can hardly be well excused: consider better of what is done, then wrong the meaning of a good mind, and you shall find without excuse, no true cause of displeasure: If the information of malice have moved choler without judgement, poor men must endure the misery of evil fortune: against myself I will confess nothing, but refer time to decide all doubts, when Truth shall put the differences betwixt a shadow and a better substance. So leaving ill humours to like minds, and good thoughts to better natures, hoping to find you yourself, which will be far enough from that you write: In spite of the devil I commit you to God: and so rest. Your friend whether you will or no●. D. R. A Letter to laugh at, after the old fashion of 〈◊〉: to a Maid. AFter my hartic commendations, trusting in God that you are in good health as I was a● the writing ●●r●o●, with my Father and my Mother, my brothers and sisters, and all my good friends, thanks be to God. The cause of my writing to you at this time is, that E●len, I do hear since my ●●●●ing from Wakefield, when you know, what ta●ke ●re bade together at the sign● of the ble● Cuckoo, and how you did gi●e me your hand, and swear that you would not forsake me for all the wo●●de, and how you made me buy a Ki●ng and a ●art, that cost me right●●●e pene●, which I left with you, and you gave me a Napkin to wear●●n my ●●t, I thank you, which I will wear to my dying day●●nd I 〈◊〉 if it be true as I hear, that you have alt●red your mind, and are made sore to my neighbour Hob●ins younger son, truly Ellen you do not wel● in so doing, and God will p●a●●e you for it, and I hope I shall live and if I never have you: for there are mo●e maids the● Malkin▪ and I count myself worth the whisking. And therefore praying you to write me your answer by th●s bearer my friend, touching the truth of all, how the matter ●t●nd● with you, I com●●● you to God. From Ca●lo● gr●●ne. Your true Lo●er. R. P. Her Answer. Truly Roger, I did not look for such a Letter from your hands, I would you should know, I scorn it: Have I gotten my Father and Mother's ill will for you, to be so used at your hands▪ I perceive ● you be so jealous already, you would be somewhat an other day, I am glad I find you, that you can believe any thing of me: but 'tis no matter, I care not: send me my Napkin, and you shall h●ue your King and your heart, for I can have enough and I never see you more: for there are more Bachelors than Roger, and my penny is as good silver as yours: and therefore seeing you are so lusty, even put up your pipes, for I will have no more to do with you: And so unsaying all that ever hath been said betwixt us, make your choice where you list, I know where to be loved: and so I end. From Wakefield. M. R. FINIS.