A POST WITH a packet of mad Letters.  
The second part.  
LONDON. Printed by R. B. for john Browne, and john Smethicke, and are to be sold in S. Dunston's churchyard▪ 1606.   

TO THE READER.  
READER I know not what you are, and therefore I cannot well tell What to say to you: only this at adventure, if you be wise, you will not play the fool in scoffing at that, which perhaps may deserve a better countenance: if you be not wise, I can but pray for your better understanding: howsoever you be, I will hope the best of you, that you will think of my work as it deserves, which is as much as I desire▪ if you get any good by it, thank me for it: if hurt, thank yourself, for your abuse of that might serve you better: this is all I can, and will at this time say unto you: my intent was to pleasure many, and you may be one of them: and to hurt none at all, and therefore not you. So leaving my book to your liking, as it falleth out, I rest as I have reason;  
Your friend, Nich. Breton.   

A Post with a Packet of mad letters. The second part.  

The letter between the Knight R.M. and the Lady E. R.  
SWeet should be that spirit, which through the instinct of love understandeth the silence of truth whose tongue is the heart, whose words are sighs, in which are hidden the secret fruits of those trees, that only grow in the paradise of reason; vouchsafe then fair eye, more bright than the sunny beams, with one fair glance, of ●our gracious favour to bless this rude and unworthy paper, the which if it have made you any offence, in the fire consume it; but if through the power of the fates, or the effect of your kindness, it may do you the least pleasure, Let him be Metamorphosed to worse than nothing, that would be any thing, but that letter, during your reading, or ever any other thing, than your will in your service: for that under heaven, having no cause of comfort, but in my concealed hope of your grace, let all world's sweet be as bitterness to my thought▪ that shall seek sweetness in other sense: so looking for no felicity but in the nest of the Phoenix, in the admiration of honour, in the humility of love I rest.  
Yours devoted to be commanded▪   

Her Answer.  
Wisdom might well appear in that heart, which could pierce into the conceit of that spirit, that with the figures of love, deceives the sense of Simplicity: which not suspecting evil, finds seldom other substance: O poor truth how is thy Title made a shadow of deceit, while in seeking of paradise, folly falls into hell: yet, not to wrong any Creature, happy may that live, that makes faith his felicity, and pardoned be that paper, that doth but his master's message: let then sighs be buried in the depth of forgetfulness, while silence understandeth that virtue speaketh: and in the fire of that flame, whose heat is more felt then seen, be that letter burned that offends me with pleasure: so assuring myself, that if from the nest of the Phoenix you pass without a feather, either the figure will be a Cipher, or the fancy affection: so leaving your best thought to a blessed Issue, I rest Affectionately▪  
Yours in what I may. E; R.   

His Reply.  
Unworthy should that heart be of the least of loves happiness, that can have power to give place, to the poison of deceeite: and more than miserable were the life, that to hell makes such a passage: Oh blessed creature, do not think the world to be the Cave of the accursed, nor do a wrong to love, in the suspicion of truth; Simple faith hath no fear, and true love cannot feign; but, if Silence be the only Answer of the expectation o● comfort, hope in obscureness m●st seek the happiness of desire: but let not fancy be Cipher, when faith knows no fiction, but let your favour be the feather in the nest of my honour's Phoenix: which till I may kindly receive, I shall in the sun beams of your beauty, consume to the ashes of discomfort: in which commending the sum of my life to the true and honourable service of love, I rest▪  
Yours what mine own. R. M.   

Her answer.  
Ungracious is that spirit, that through suspicion of deceit, doth Injury to love: and blessed is that fancy, that lives only by faith: sweet is the war, where kindness ends the quarrel, and little the hurt, where hope is a most present and ready help: in brief, they are blind travailers that in seeking to find heaven, go to hell, and if love be himself, he hath life in Assurance: let it then suffice you, to find the due of desert, where desire exceeds not the limits of Reason: so, in the nature of that honour, that gives virtue her best Grace, commending the comfort of your care to the condition of your conceit, I rest: as I have occasion to equal honour in true affection.  
Yours as I find cause. E. R.   

A merry letter from a conceited friend to his like familiar.  
Honesty, I hope I am in the right, except the great wind have blown clean awa●e your best wit, give me leave, spite of your teeth, to tell you that I love you, & lea●t I should grow deaf I would be glad to hear of you: for tho●gh I am ●ot blind, yet I cannot see you▪ and therefore having a lit messenger, I thought it not amiss to write to you, not for any thing that I have to say to you, but that while I think on you, you should see I do not forgot you: for though compliments are but idle, yet they make words in steed of better matter, and so forth: now to the purpose, you shall understand, that at the writing hereof a sudden occasion of business made me make an end, ere I had begun, & thereore intending to write I know not what, to abridge my conceit I know not how: but hoping that you are wise enough to think what you lift, I will only pray for you, that being in as good health, as I lea●t you, as soon as conveniently you can, I may meet with you, 〈◊〉, & where it shall please you for as you know, I am for you, in all kindness to quite you▪ and so to him that made you, ever to bless and keep you, with my hearts commendation I leave you.  
Yours what mine own, B.   

An Answer to the same.  
WAgge-pasty, I am sure I am not in the wrong, except the Sun have dried up your brains since, I left you: Let me, for I will tell you that, in my love, I outleape you, and will not be so idle, as not to answer you, that my senses do not so fail me, but that I understand you, and having no better company would be glad to be troubled with you: for you have not a kind thought wherein I do not quarrel with you, whether is more force in the nature of true friendship: which because, fortune favours few fools this year, we must carry longer to play our game: but never too late to go to an ill Bargain, for now we do but talk our purses take no hurt, but when the term comes that we may join issue in our cases, I fear the king's head in fish●treet will ●●nd us tw● good clients: but, all is well that ends well; except it were bad in the beginning, as I think be this my letter, for, being troubled with I not tell you what, least it should make you think I care not what, I have written what you may read, and do as you see cause, either to reply upon imperfection, or let it rest with a no● plus: and so not doubting you to be yourself, and to put me in the number of your second self: I rest to yourself as myself.  
One always yours. H. W.   

A reply to the last letter.  
IF you were as wise, as I could wish you, I could take a little pains to write unto you, and yet for that you understand yourself, I care not if I trouble you with a little idleness: In the parish of Sain● Ass, at the sign of the hobby horse, maid Marian, and the fool, fell together by the Ears with the Piper: so that had not the good man of the pewter candlestick, set in for the Moris' dance, the Maiegame had been quite spoiled▪ but when the game had gone round and the brains were well warmed, the legs grew so nimble that their heels went higher than their heads: but in all this cold sweat, while lu●●iguts and his best beloved, were casting sheep eyes at a Codshead, hue and cry came through the street, that the fox had killed a tame goose, at the sudden noise where of the multitude were so skarde that all the moris Dancers were divided, & the fool ran home to your town: but because we have some miss of him in our parish, I pray you keep him not too long with you, and so for lack of better present occurrents, content yourself, with such news as the time affords you: he●reafter you may have better, till when and always, I rest as you know:  
Yours. T. R.   

An Answer.  
IF you were not more than half mad, you would not have danced such a trenchmor▪ with your little wits: but, yet, since I guess it is about the full of moon, I will hope shortly of your amendment: in the mean● time, let me advise you, to take patience with your understanding, to direct you in a better course: for when you waked out of your dream, you saw no body, but the man that you thought was tun to our town, and he was putting you on a coat of 4 elbows: for Maid-marian she I think is troubled with you in her cream pot: but, for the hobby horse, alas he hath forgot your turn: and therefore you should do well to make your repair to our market, I think it will be a Saint's day, when if a naughty bird do not cross the Nightingale, you shall hear some strange music about our Meadow plot: at the least you shall hear the old song that you were wont to like well of, song by the black brows, with the cherry cheeks, under the side of the pied Cow: come live with me & be my love: you know the rest, and so I rest,  
Thine what mine. N. R.   

another Reply.  
O Brave Oliver, leave me not behind you you play the Marchant all the week and make all whole upon the holy day; you would be angry, if you could tell how▪ & yet, having the cards in your hand, you cannot choose but turn up n●●dy▪ but the matter 〈…〉 great, the tailor that fitted my Coat hath made ●ou many a ●●cket, where if it were not for displeasing of jack an Apes, ● could make him fall ●ut with his workman, for acquainting you with his invention▪ but let this pass and to a better purpose; my neighbour and your good friend hath a welcome in store for you, and his eldest daughter would make you both a husband, and a brother, her wort● you know, and his wealth will do no hurt: I should be glad of your good fortune, and you, I think, should play well at be you pleased; and so much for the conjunction copulative: new, for news, I bear none of late, but that the Bailiff of our hundredth, hath had a mischance, his wife taking a blow● that never smarted he hath a pain in his head, that cannot be cured: for having no other pla●ster but patience, is resolved to make good cheer with his friends, and finding himself alone, is content to make merry, with good fellows: this is all for this time; and so in hast I end,  
Yours. N. B.   

An Answer.  
WHen wits go a wool gathering, the thread of it may be fine, if it be well spun: I see you have little to do, that have so much leisure to play your leripups, if I could meet you right, I would fit you a penny worth: but though I cannot pay you, your due, I will not die in your debt, & though I play at Noddy, I will not take the card out of your hand● for, I know not how you can spare him: but leaving gamesters to their Tricks, & jack an apes to his monkey, let me tell you, that for your neighbour, you are so near him, that I need not t● trouble him and ●or his walth and her worth, you know well enough what to do with them: for myself I love not to shake hands with your constable in the company of kind fellowship, but yet not wronging an honest wench, I will wish her better fortune, than my Affliction: and so commending thyself, I will assist thee with my good prayers, that the Bailiff of the hundredth may find thee o●e among a thousand, I mean to shake hands, but not heads with and so▪ in s●me little occasion, of sudden business I will here conclude for this time, and always rest:  
Thine R. M,   

To my Honourable good Lord my Lord Morafi.  
RIght honourable, to express unto your good Lordship, the humble duty of my affection, I cannot better do it, then by this Bearer: whom for many good parts, fitting your honours pleasure, I can well commend to your favourable entertainment: for, as such masters are like black Swans: so, such servants are choice creatures: for a little matter of small moment, will hoist up folly above the clouds, while wisdom runs a course, of a more careful temper: such I hope shall I find your servant, whose wit & conscience take such counsel in all his actions, that the judgements of good experience hold him worthy good account: for myself, lest I may be partial, I willeave his praise to your proole: and in hope of your contentment; only entreat your entertainment; shortly I hope to see you: till when, persuaded that his service shall gain him more praise than my pen, I will leave his qualities to your trial, and his service to your favour; and so in infragible love rest, during life.  
Yours assured in true affection. R.B.   

To my loving Cousin, master T. W. justice of peace.  
Sir, I would be glad to write you news of the dispatch of your business, but yet it will not be: for Lawyers b●ing full of Clients, cannot answer all men at once: and therefore considering your matter is in a case of more conscience than gain, I must attend the leisure of your Counsellor, who as he is wi●e, I doubt not but will prove honest: an● then a little time will be well 〈◊〉 with, that brings a good hour at the last: your adversary is full of money, and trudgeth up and down like a fox, but I hope in s●eed of a goose, he will be choked with a feather: have you no fear nor care of it, for I doubt not to effect it to your content: and so much for your law business. Now for other matters, the occurrents of this time, are either so frivolous, or dangerous, that I think silence better blamed, then babbling: for though there be few Partridges, yet there are many setters here in this town, who listen for speeches, intercept letters, accuse the simple, and undo the foolish: and therefore I had rather be silent with the Nightingale till May, then prate like a Cuckoo out of season: yet for that you shall not think me fearful of sparrow blasting, I will write you a little news. Tobacco is like to grow a great commodity, for there is not an Ostler, nor a Tapster, but will be at his whiff or two, and use it as a shooing-horn to draw on a pot of Beer. ●ottell Ale, is more common than good, and yet dear enough, it is so taken up with the drunken true. thieves are well weeded, and yet besides shove-groate Testers, there are some lookers now and then. Painting was never s● common, and pretty cheap. And for women, some go like Antics; some like maskers; some proudly sober, and some like careless Resolution, but some few like angels: but they are too high for men: and therefore I leave them to higher powers. Now men are as in times past, if young, hardly wise, though witty: if aged wise: if wealthy, served and honoured: if poor, at least scorned, if not worse used: If wise, perhaps employed: if foolish, baffled; this I say for the most part: for sometime, for some cause both youth and age, and poverty and folly, are l●●ely borne withal: but for that this is rather an old observation, than any new matter, I will end my long letter: with never ending love: And so in hope of your health▪ commit you to the Almighty.  
Your very loving Cousin▪ W. R,   

To the right honourable his very good lord, the Lord. W. H.  
Right honourable, your nobleness never ceasing to bind my service to your kindness▪ hath made me at this instant to presume a little upon your good favour: So it is my good Lord, that I am shortly to bestow a daughter of mine in marriage upon a gentleman of some worth, and according to our custom, friends must be feasted, when a Pa●●y of venison is a grace to the whole service: your honour shall much pleasure me, and as often heretofore, give me no little cause to be thankful: my state is not great, but my love so far assured, as wherein I may deserve, that I cannot requite, I will fail of my hope, but I will discharge some part of my debt: And so not doubting your honourable favour to this my suit for a Buck, beseeching God to add happiness to your good health, I humbly take my leave.  
Your honours in all humbleness R.S.   

To his dear friend, M. F. R. at his lodging in the Temple.  
YOu wrote of late unto me, for my opinion of your intent, and abuse for your course: which two points I will touch as truly and fitly, as I can. Your intent is to leave your study, and first to Court and then to Arms: but what hath altered your intent in study, to fall upon an intent to strange courses▪ For your Books peaceably entreat of those things, which you may find disquiet in passing through. For, touching your first course, is it not bett●r to read of Princes, then to carry their crowns? you cannot feel their burdens, except you had their cares. How full of perils are their pleasures? yea, how many instruments of mischief doth the devil send into the world, to cross the courses of good Princes, that are leading their people to Heaven? and if they be Wolves to their own flocks, how safe is it to be far from their Courts? Now, leaving good Princes to God's blessing, and other to his amendment, go a little to his counsel. Oh how great are the weight of the charges? and how many the natures of their troubles: who, if they all be of one mind, and as if were one body of many members, yet sometime a toe, and a finger, a hand, or an arm, a tooth or an eye, a tongue or an ●are, may perhaps be out of temper, and so that all the body may be out of frame▪ say their wits are great through experience of place: and their pleasures great in the authority of power: and their powers great, in the virtue of favour: yet with all, when experience is put to a new study, providence must ●rie the power of wit, with no little trouble: and when pleasures hold in power, love hath no place in servility: and when power rests upon favour, what is the fear of fortune? And further ●is not the care of a common wealth, a continual toil of wit? power, a dangerous step to pride; hateful in the highest eye: and fortune unfaithful in all her favours? rather read then, the laudable carriage of their courses, in the service of kings, then seek in court to see their kingly courses: for God only knoweth their consciences, themselves only their cares, and thou canst not know their crosses: But leaving them to their honourable proceedings, go yet a little lower to the Ladies, & what shalt thou see? either a creature like an Angel, if virtuous: or worse than a woman, if vicious: perhaps thou shalt see, painting spoil a good complexion, or deceive a simple eyesight: heat out of a five presence, a fond spirit speak idly, & perhaps an idle wit play the wanton, Now what art thou benefited by all this▪ a●●se thine eye with a picture, offend thine ●are wish fol●y, or lose thy time a idleness. Were it not better for thee to read ye●iction of Venus, then to be servant unto vanity? and to laugh at a fancy, then to follow folly? ●et, far there be a Phoenix among birds, if h●r nest be too high take heed of climbing, for fear of a fall: take heed of the object, that makes an abject of a subject: but look a side at the attendants, what shall you see? Cost & courtesy, long service, painful duty, hope of favour, with fear of displeasure, a great harvest, many labourers, & ●ewe gains, and must be so, for desires are many, but deserts fewer, and therefore they hope little. In sum, a Prince thou canst never be, a Counsellor never think to be: Ladies are lowly, but beauty is costly; and the charge of attendance, may bring hope for assurance. In mine opinion therefore, thy intent is not good, and thy proceeding will be worse, in thy humour of Courting. Now, for arms, Is it not better to read of the noble acts of Conquerors, then to try the misery of the conquered, and to suffice nature with a little, then to starve for want of food? Oh the danger of death, the doubt of victory, the cross of valour, the terror of a sigh, sack of a city, the defence of a battle, the sight of blood, the cares of the sorrowful, and the consideration of conscience: oh these, with many other i● banquets, bitter storms, deadly wounds, cold lodging, hard fare, stinking drink, and lousy rags: and who knows how long: these things I say, with what else I say not, are sufficient I hope to dissuade thee from so desperate a course: rather read of true valour, and upon good cause, and fit time: adventure life for honour, for thy country, thy religion, or thy life: otherwise under the show of seeking honour, go● not like a hired butcher to kill beasts: like a bloody tyrant, to kill men for money: remember what thou hast read: Blessed are the peacemakers: seek peace & ensue it: for God will bless it, if he make it. Yet if needs thou wilt go to the field, begin not with the court, least dainty fare, ease, and idleness, make thee unfit to adventure the hard course to honour: but though in regard of the great travails, and perils in those passages, the tittles of honour, do most truly belong to the well deservers, while valour shown in mercy, doth grace nobleness in goodness, yet, for that I think thy body not answerable to thy spirit, out of my love I have written thee my advise. hoping that it will take effect, though not as I with, yet such as may be to thy good: and so knowing thy judgement sufficient to determine of thy best course, I leave thee with it, to the direction of the Almighty, whom I beseech ever so to bless thee that I may always hear well of thee, and rejoice to see thee: from my lodging in the little College, this tenth of August, 1605.  
Thine more than spoken. N. B.   

A letter of a Batchelar, to a rich widow.  
Widow, if you would not be sour, I would call you sweet: for though you know I love you, yet you will say I flatter you: but yet be it how it will, this is truth, believe it as you will: your eyes have caught my heart, who hath sworn me a servant to your will▪ I cannot with eloquence court you▪ but I can truly love you, and think myself blessed, if I might enjoy you: for as your presence may please the wisest, so your wisdom may command the honest: for your wealth, be it more or less than is reported, yourself being of more worth than you can have, I wish yourself rather than what is yours you fear perhaps youths inconstancy, it is trial that proveth truth: and for my love, it shall end with my life: but what are words unbelieved? or hopes not firmly grounded? like the vision of a dream, which awake proves nothing: yet good widow, if you be kind pity me: and if pitiful, favour me: and if gracious, love me: God will reward you, love will be true to you, and I will die ere I will deceive you: you may increase your coin, and decrease your comfort: when a coughing sung at midnight, may make you weep before day: but venture a little and have much: what I am, or have, you shall have all my love, my service, my life, & what can you have more? a little more drink to make the cup run over: and perhaps mar the drink that was good before: A little more coin to fill the other bag, and perhaps fall out to prove a piece of false money: when commended by a Coistrel, that will serve for nothing but a Cuckolded; or kirbd by a Gub, that will grate you to the bones for an old groat: you will curse your treasure that was the cause of your destruction. No no, good widow, be good to thyself, in being kind to me: hear me, believe me, love me, & take me: for I will be a servant to thy will, a companion to thy kindness, & as a steward of thy substance: this, as I live, & hope of thy love, thou shalt find: for my heart hath avowed it, and I will not be a villain to mine own soul. In which, paying for thy health, and to be made happy in thy kindness, to say Amen to my prayers: I rest,  
Thine avowed, howsoever regarded. T.M.   

To my loving friend. W. D. at his father's house in Coventrie.  
HOnest Will, I hear by your mother, that you are going to the University, where no doubt, but with good care & diligence, you may do yourself much good: but for that I have passed the place that you are going to●, & have tried the natures of those studies, and the profit to be made of them, let me tell thee mine opinion of them, and which I think best for thee to follow for thy good: first, for the better blessing of whatsoever thou followest, bestow some labour in the reading of the divine love: that done, note what I tell thee for the increase of thy stock, when thou shalt come to have any dealings in the world: for thy better instructions in such courses, as may be for thy commodity, observe the rules that I will read thee: first for Grammar, it is every Ushers of petty schools, common ●lai●e. Logic is but for the University: for music, it brings more crotchets than crowns: for Astronomy, it goes too high above the clouds, to do any good on the earth: Cosmography is good for a travailer, and Astrology for a Seaman: but for him that means to gather wealth, and grow rich, let him be perfect in Arithmetic, to be sure of his numbers: it will be a mean to gather wealth many ways, for if you keep a merchant's book, you shall learn his accounts, the prices of his wares, and the gains of them, as well by great as by retail: as well outward, as homeward: & this is a sure way to wealth: again, if thou be advanced to place of office, to keep account of the number of the people, the duties, tributes, and what payments so ever to be made by them, for Subsidies, Fifteen, customs, and what else soever. Arithmetic is most necessary for thy speedy dispatch of all those businesses: for howsoever honour may be sought or bought by them that have enough, seek thou wealth, and that will bring thee what the world can give thee: for if thou fall into want, and impairing or spending thy stock, be forced to take some mean course for thy maintenance, I will tell thee what thou shalt find true: the honest will only pity thee, and say thou mayst keep a school, 'tis an honest trade, when a churl will grudge at his groat, for a shillings worth of labour, in beating quick sense into a dull wit: who, if he be not capable of a good understanding▪ yet shall the fault of his imperfection be imputed to thy negligence, and thou undeserved, receive either a frown or a foul word for thy labour: now the proud Peacock that hath a little more money than wit, will perhaps entertain thee to a blue coat, and forty shillings which, how gracious it will be to a good spirit, thou shalt find, and I shall be sorry to hear: Believe me, if thou have all the sciences, be furnished with many languages, and art acquainted with honourable courses, and hast a heart as honest as can live; yet if thou lack wealth to grace all the rest, thou shalt have a fool come over thee, and a knave abuse thee. & he whose wit goes no further than his trade, so play upon thy misery, with scamning thy course of life, that thou wilt wish rather never to be borne, then to be borne down with unhappiness: yea for necessity's sake thou shalt be enforced to bestow thy study in fictions and follies, and to spend thy spirit in vain, yea I may say, vile inventions, to commend an unworthy person, to the wound of thine own conscience, who though he love to hear himself flattered, yet perhaps when he hath very miserably rewarded thee▪ yet will he lie of his bounty, which is little better than beggary: Oh what a plague is it to a noble spirit, through mere want, to present an Ass, with a burden of wit, or a base spirit with a tract of honour? Oh dear Will, the wealthy that have but a little wit, will grow rich with making a benefit of thy labours: while thou not weighing thy lack of judgement, in the first directing of thy course, wilt pine away with sorrow to think of thy mistaken fortune: in brief therefore follow my counsel, study all the Arts superficially, but chiefly Arithmetic, for it is the assured way to wealth: be not ignorant in Divinity, for it is the soul's comfort: and take heed of Poetry, least it run away with thy wit: for it hath commonly one of these three properties, belibelling the wicked, abusing the honest, or pleasing the foolish: and therefore though some excellent man may have an excellent humour, do thou rather read in an evening, then make thy days work in the study of idleness: give them praise that deserve it, but do not thou bend thy delight towards it: for in a word, it is more full of pleasure then profit. Thus have I writ thee a tedious letter, hoping that if thou wilt follow my advise, it will do thee no harm: and if so much good as I desire, I shall be glad to see it: in the mean time, leaving thy courses with thyself, to the guiding and tuition of the almighty, I rest:  
Thine in much affection, R. P.   

To his most honoured Lady Madam, Izabella Tarina.  
HOnourable Madam, how my unworthiness may hope of your goodness, I cannot find: but in the notes of your nobleness, which, as it may well challenge the height of your Title, so doth it bind a world of servants to your good favour: among whom, myself more desirous than able to deserve the least of your good countenance, am yet presumptuous to trouble you with an humble suit. I have a sister of years sufficient, to understand betwixt good and evil: and of disposition, I thank God, not a miss: her bringing up hath been chiefly at her book and needle, but yet is she not unfurnished of other parts fit for a servant of her place: which if it might so stand with your good pleasure, should be to attend your honour in your chamber: her truth I will undertake, for her diligence I will not doubt of; her kind nature I can speak of, and her affection unto your Ladyship, I know is not a little: if therefore in all these, she may be pleasing to your entertainment, I shall be bound to your good favour in the honour of her preferment; which being the highest advancement, that her duty can deserve, I leave her service with mine own, to your honourable employment. So craving pardon to my boldness, with favour to my suit, I humbly take my leave.  
Your Ladyships in all humbleness, F. W.   

To my most beloved Godfather, T. H.  
Godfather, at the Font you gave me a name, and as I have heard, and read of others, you undertook to see me brought up in learning, and in the fear of GOD: I do not remember that ever I yet received penny from you, towards the charge thereof; and you having neither charge of wife nor children, might do well to bestow your blessing upon me, in somewhat better than a bare hand, which will buy nothing: is it possible. that having one foot in the grave, the other should be so far off? am I your nearest in nature, and shall I be furthest off in love? I know not the cause, but what ever it be misconceived in unkindness, let me entreat you, to believe my love, and I desire no more; for when you are weary of the flattery of those that feed upon you, among the great showers of your kindness, that you daily rain down upon their fields, you will I hope bestow one drop of grace upon my ground: I will ●ege nothing but your will, and will love you more than they which tell you more: be not covetous to gather for them that gape for your goods: and be not fast handed to him, who loves you more than all you have: and the good that you will do, let it be in your life, that you may see your contentment in the issue of your kindness: loathe I am to weary you with words, and therefore in the love of a true heart, which daily prayeth for your health and hearts ease, hoping that God will move you for my good, whosoever is a mean of my hurt, I cease further at this time to trouble you, but rest always in the duty of mine humble love.  
Your affectionate god son. T, B.   

To my dearest beloved friend on earth, H. W.  
HOnest Harry, out of the troubled spirit of a tormented heart I write to thee, and therefore bear with my skill if it be not in the pleasing nature of so good an humour as I could wish, and thou art worthy of: but as I know thee able to judge of colours, better than the blind eyes of beetel heads, and of that true kindness, that can and doth rather comfort the afflicted, then increase the sorrows of the distressed: let me impart to thee some part of my passion, that patience in thy pity, may the better play her part in my spirit: what shall I say? I live as without life, pleasuring in nothing, crossed in all hopes, put in many fears, languishing in many sorrows, & troubled with the grief of a wounded conscience: not with the horror of murder, the fear of treason, nor delight of sin: but with the cruelty of fortune, the unkindness of friends, and the breach of my credit: and most of all, with them whom I most love. Oh God, my heart acheth, and blame it not: and my spirit mourneth, and reprove it not: for though patience be a virtue that maketh men divine, yet there is but one Christ, & men are no Angels: and let me tell thee true, the misery of my life is intolerable in the sense of nature: for compare the afflictions of the most patient, with the causes of my passions, and provide a world of pity, to behold the map of my miseries: hath one man been wealthy, & become poor? so am I: hath another suffered wrong? so do I another buried his parents, children, & dear friends? so have I: another travailed far in hope of gain, and return with loss? so have I: another been wounded in the wars, fared hard, lain in a cold bed, many a bitter storm, and been at many a hard banquet? all these have I: another imprisoned, so have I: another long been sick? so have I: another plagued with an unquiet wife? so am I: another indebted to his heart's grief, and fain would pay and cannot? so am I: another in love? so am I; another out of love with himself? so am I; in sum, when any of these crosses, are able to kill the heart of a kind spirit, and all these lie at once so heavy upon mine heart, as nothing but the hand of God can remove, besides my continual toil, for the reward of unquietness; while that which should be my comfort, is my corrosive, imagine how, with all this, I can live; and think what a death it is thus to live. Oh the scorn of the proud, the abuse of the ungracious, the scoff of the foolish, and the scanning of the unkind: the company of the discontentive, and the want of the most affected; the disgrace of learning, the loss of time, and the misery of want. If there be a Hell on the earth, it cannot be far from this cave of my discomfort; where I am sure, the devil seeing my desire to serve God, layeth all the bars he can in the way of my best comfort: but I de●●● him, and hope in Christ that my living and loving God, who hath tried my soul in adversities, will one day in his mercy, so look upon me, that the devil shall be driven back from his purpose, and the tears of my sorrow wiped away, I shall rejoice in such a joy, as all my griefs clean forgotten, my heart and soul, shall in the joy of all my sense, in the heavenly harmony of a holy hymn, sing a new song of praise, to the glory of my Saviour: for the hastening whereof, in my deliverance from my torments, and comforts in his mercies, I will frame my daily prayers, and be assured of thy Amen: but I fear I am too tedious, and therefore will thus end: God continue my patience, but not my sorrows, give me deliverance from my miseries, and make me thankful for his blessings: & bless thee with as much happiness, as thou know'st I want; so leaving my hopes to his mercies, and us both to his tuition: I rest; with as little rest, as I think any man can rest,  
Thine, or not mine own. N.R.   

To his fair Mistress and hearts honour, Mistress A. T.  
Lady, I have been so ill a scholar to love, that I never yet learned the courting of beauty, neither would I willingly use Act to abuse virtue: and therefore if plain truth may have grace, I will use no attorney in this case: which being to be judged in your kindness, I will only crave audience, and stand to your arbitrement: my case being mine own lawyer, thus I plead: your eyes have stolen my heart: now I must either be accessary to mine own hurt, or accuse you of the felony, but rather willing to lose my heart in your eyes, then keep them to look on other light, I will only appeal to yourself, what to do in this passion: If I love, you must know it, for your eyes have my heart: and if I lose my heart, you must have it, for your eyes are well worthy of it; but now you have it, preserve it for your service, let it not die in displeasure▪ that hath no life but in your love: of it could speak, it would tell you how dearly, highly, and only it honours you, and if you will believe it, you shall quickly find it: for it is dedicated to your service, and hath no care, but of your favour; keep it then to your use, use it to your pleasure, and let it die in other comfort. In sum, not to dwell ●pon ceremonies, it is nothing mine, but all yours: and if it may live in your eyes, it seeks no other heaven in this world: drive it not then from you that hath no life but in you: and take it wholly to you, that is as nothing without you: so leaving it with myself, to the honour of your only service, I take my leave for this time: but will rest ever.  
Yours ●●●wed and devoted. R. S.   

To his very good friend, Master▪ R. B. at his house in Coll.  
Sir, I know you love no long letters, and my suit being t● most men so unpleasing, I would be loath to be tedious: I have purchased a piece of land, and laid out all my money; now upon the sudden, an unexpected occasion puts me to an extraordinary charge: for the furnishing whereof, I am constrained to try my good friends: among which presuming of your kind promise upon any urgent occasion to stand me in steed, I am to entreat you by this bearer, to help me to forty pounds. wherein you shall so much pleasure me, as so much may do, and as I can requi●e it, I will not forget it: I would have it for six months: my day I will not break, I will take it kindly, and deserve it thankfully: my servant is trusty, and therefore I pray you send it by him: and as you will be assured of m● love, feed me not with delays nor excuse: for I know you have it, and you know I will pa●e it. Thus loath to use you like a broker, to send you a pawn, as an honest neighbour. let me be beholding to your kindness, in which you shall give me cause in the like, or a greater matter to rest upon, at as short a warning.  
Your assured friend to use, R. H.   

To the Right worshipful my very good master, Sir Thomas Ward Knight, at his house in Padow.  
Sir, after mine humble duty: I have talked wit● divers of those parties, to whom you directed me, touching the benefit to be made of the sat, which you have in hand, whose opinions I fi●de divers: yet all agreeing in this, that if you can procure it irrevocable, the money will be adventured: otherwise, they are loath to engage their states and credits, too far upon bare hopes for lives are uncertain, and in the change of times, diverse things fall out contrary to expectation: you shall therefore do well before you trouble any of them in it, to make sure of the matter, in such sort as may be best for your profit: for the suit being effected to good purpose, leave to me to deal in it to your content: there is much muttering that you are like to be crossed in it, I would therefore wish you to try your strength in it, & not to slip time, for it is precious in a good course: bear with me I beseech you, if I move your patience, in urging your speed: for it is for your own good: against your coming to town, I will have some what else for you to set on foot, for he that will work, must not have the fire without an iron: but not knowing your business, I will forbear at this time to trouble you with idle news: and only praying for your health and heart's ease, commit the consideration of your own causes, to the managing of your good discretion: & so humbly take my leave for this time, and rest always,  
Your Worship's humble servant, I. T.   

To my assured loving friend. T. B. with speed,  
NOne payment of debts, is not only a crack in credit, but a loss of friends: upon your letter I furnished your want: and fortune having been your friend, a large conscience me thinketh doth not well: your excuse I yet know not, no● can well devise it: but acquaint me with it, that I may not wrong your disposition: for a seeled affection, expecteth the like measure in kindness: the money you had of me is not much, but if it have done you pleasure, I am glad of it: and if you can well spare it, by this bearer, I pray you return it, or the cause why you detain it: I have lately bought sheep to store a pasture that I have taken to farm, and my money being short, I am boul● to write to you for mine own, which if it come, shall be welcome, if not, so that I know how it may steed you, I will forbear it: and for the conference betwixt your son, and my daughter, I think they are more ready for us, than we for them: your mind I know, and am contented with it. for as I see their proceedings, we will soon fall upon agreement: and to be plain with you, I think I were best rather to provide you more money, then demand any more that you have, and therefore making your excuse, in this only point of affection, entreating pardon for my plain manner of writing, assuring you, that if this matter go forward, (as it is no other like) as their lo●es, so shall our purses be one: and thus hoping of your health as mine own, with commendations to your kind son, your, self, and your▪ good Shrew, I commit you to the Almighty: Caunterbury this fourth of August. 1604.  
Your very loving friend. N.T.   

To a judge in the behalf of an offender.  
MY good Lord, your honourable care of justice▪ I hope is seasoned with the charitable weight of mercy: for though the law cutteth off offence by sharp punishment, yet death takes away repentance, and where there is sorrow, there is sign of grace: the best judge of true justice, Christ jesus pardoned the great sinner, and with the gentle rebuke of sin no more, called her to great grace: now shall justice, upon the first fact, use an other course upon an offender? I know it is your oath to do justice, yet may you give time of repentance, in reprieving this poor man, whose pardon will be easily attained. Your honour shall do a good deed, God in imitating his course in justice, will surely regard and reward you, the penitent offender shall be bound ever to pray for you▪ myself with all his friends, will truly honour you, and no doubt but our King, who is full of mercy, when his Majesty▪ shall hear of it will commend you: beseeching therefore your honour to stay the sentence of his death until the next A●●ise, or to grant him a reprieve till the said time: leaving the poor man's life to a word of your mouth, with my humble and bounden service to your honourable commandment, in prayer for your good health and all other happiness: I humbly take my leave.  
Your honours in all humbleness, D. H.   

A Letter of compliments, To my very good friend master H. W. at his house in Kelton.  
Sir, if I could have let pass so fit a messenger without some thankful remembrance, I were unworthy of so good a friend; but your kindness being such, as will ever work in a good mind, I pray you let me salute you with this little token of my love▪ The runlet is of suc● sack, as Bristol hath no better, and the suger-lofe for your good Lady, I assure you is right Barbary, which at this time, is bear of some price, but upon the c●●sing of the troubles there, I hope we shall have it cheap here: in the mean time, howsoever it be, what you need▪ command in that or what else may be in my power to accomplish: and so wishing I were with you at the kill of one of your fat Buck●, with my hearty commendations to yourself and your good bedfellow, & many thanks to you both fo● my great good cheer and most kind entertainment▪ hoping to see you at my house, at your coming to town, where you shall make your own welcome, I commit you to the almighty: London, this xx. of julie, 1604.  
Your very loving and assured friend, C. R.   

To his assured friend master Tho. Rise, at his house in the Strand.  
AGainst this time of my attendance upon the judge of this circuit, I shall have occasion to use many things, whereof I am now unfurnished: your skill in choosing the best, and knowing the prices, I know long since, by your kindness in the like trouble: and therefore entreat you once more to take a little pains with this bearer my servant in helping him, in the laying out of his money, upon such parcels, as in my note for mine use, I have set down: your travel nor kindness shall not be unthankfully forgotten, and wherein I may in this country or elsewhere pleasure you, you shall not fail of my best means: If you have any news, I pray you acquaint me with them, and if the shippers be come from the Indies, what good success they have had: but some earnest business makes me briefer than I otherwise would be; and therefore hoping of your health, and not doubting of your kindness, with hearty commendations, I commit you to the Almighty: Salop, this twelfth of june 1606.  
Your assured friend, T. M.   

To his very good friend, Master S. B. at his house in Ferill.  
Sir, where you wrote unto me, touching the Sale of your Lorshippe of Bar, I cannot answer you for two causes: the one, of price is too high: the other, your haste of money is too great: for touching your price, the land you know is much impaired since the death of your father, the woods are low and very backward, by cutting it afore their full growth, and your trees are so wasted, that thee is scarce a piece of timber worth the felling: your Moor is shrewdly spoiled for lack of draining and your pastures are so overgrown with bushes, that it will ask great cost in stubbing, before it be brought to any good pass: yet not withstanding, for that we have been upon speech for it, and that you seem willing to deal with me, if you will pitch a reasonable price, your money shall not be long deferred: I pray you therefore, ●f I may have it as I told you, if it be a hundredth pounds more, I care not, but further indeed, I will not go a penny: let me know your mind by this bearer, out of hand, for I am offered, (I think) a better bargain: but for my Records sake, and the rather to be your neighbour, that we may now and then have a game or two at Bowls, hoping of your good health & your bedfellows, I commit you to the Almighty: From my house, this 13. of june. 1604.  
Your very loving friend, E. F.   

A letter to a proud Mistress.  
How beauty will make a fool proud, I would your plaster work did not witness: but had you wit to help wickedness, you would put a Parrot out of countenance: your countenance is made after your conceit, as full of merry tricks as a Monkey, and for your foot pace, I think you have sore heels, you walk so nicely as upon Egshels: your hair is none of your own, and for your steeple tire it is like the gaude of a Maide-Marian, so that had you a fool by the hand, you might walk where you would in a Morris dance: Oh fine come to it, how it fiddles like a Hackney that would tyre at half a mile: Well your Tobacco breath, with your tooth less chaps, will be shortly such bad ware, that you will stand in the Market, and no man bid a penny for you: but what do I mean to spoil paper with such matter? and therefore I will hear abruptly end: wash your face, scour your hands, put on a clean smock, get you to your prayers, repent your wickedness, and mourn to death for your soul's sake, for your carcase is not worth the carrying to the earth: and so hoping that in a good humour you will do somewhat better then hang yourself: I leave you to his mishap, that finds you for the most filthy creature on this earth; till you be never more seen in the world.  
Your poor friend at a pinch. B.T.   

A vile answer of a perilous wench.  
BEtwixt a railing Knave and a Rascal, what is the difference? and from a nitty Rogue, what can be looked for but a Louse? Oh devil incarnate: who ever knew such a villain? Your hair I will not meddle with, for fear of a fall, but I wonder the jewellers do not deal with you for a face, where a pin can scarce stand betwixt a pearl and a Ruby: Oh, the french Rheum bids you keep out of the wind, for fear your suel stakes scarce hold up a rotten carcase: now in steed of a morris dance, you know the hay up Holborn; where the Hangman at the Gallows stays to learn you a new turn: but thou wretched worm, unworthy the name of a man, get thee to thy knees, ask forgiveness of all the world, make thy confession in the Cart, and commend thy soul to the Lord, for thy flesh the dogs will not meddle with: and so in haste hoping my letter may come to thee afore the last cast; I end in haste.  
Thy charitable friend, B. C.   

A letter of Challenge to a Swaggerer.  
Sirrah, your swaggering is so foolish, that children laugh at you where you go: and for your valour, if your father be away your sworn will do no hurt: your tossing of pots fear none but flies, and for you brave words, they are nothing but wind▪ but lest I do you some pleasure, in telling you of your faults, let this suffice to make an end of all matters: Tomorrow in the morning you shall have me by eight of the clock▪ in the field, beyond your lodging, near unto the pool●▪ where if you dare come alone, you shall find me without company, ready to do more the I will speak: till when, expecting no other answer then yourself, I rest,  
Your avowed enemy, I. T.   

A dogged Answer.  
DO you imagine me a Philistian, that you begin to play Goliath in a Letter? I assure you, if your deeds be like your words, my father will not abide the wind of you: but for my sword it hath a point, and therefore cares not a point for you▪ if you be not drunk, I muse what madness doth possess you? but the best is, I hope, now you have spoken, you have done: for I will be there where you appoint, but I think will not perform: but as you tell me of my faults, I hope to whip you for yours: and so sorry to have lost so much time about idleness, I end,  
Yours as I have reason, F. R.   

To my very good cozen M I.D. at his house in Swandes.  
cozen, I understand you are determined to put your younger son apprentice to a Merchant: believe me, I allow of your resolution herein, for I that have travailed far. and seen much, can speak somewhat of them, and their noble profession. I could well give it a higher title, for a right Merchant is a royal fellow, he is desirous to see much, to travail much, and sometime to gain a little, doth adventure much: though sometime for a little adventure he doth gain much▪ but what are the sundry natures of perils, as well at Sea, as at land, as well of his goods, as his person, none knoweth but himself, or like himself: but having travailed far, and finished his voyage, after his safe return, having given God thanks, note what is the course of his life: to observe a comely order in the city▪ and enrich many poor men by the retailing of his goods, who sit at ease, and sell in their sh●ps, that he with great ●oil, & danger fetched out of far Countries. Now, say his gain be great, let it be answered, 〈◊〉 the desert of his travail, shall a fair or a fine horse, brought out of Barbary, be here finely kept, well fed, and neatly dressed, and richly attired: and shall not a Merchant, that hath travailed many Miles beyond Barbary, not be thought worthy of a fine house, good land, dainty fair, and an honourable title, for the resolution of his adventure, and the toil of his travail? shall a Lute or a Citerne, brought out of Italy, be put in a case of velvet, and laced with g●ld for well sounding? and shall not a Merchant that fetched that Lute, and went far further than that country for better commodities, not be thought worthy of his gain, and honoured for his mind? shall the Lawyer f●ll breathe at an high rate? and shall the merchant be grudged his price for his wares? what shall I say? who up-holdes the state of a City? or the honour of a state under the King, but the Merchant: who beautifieth a Court with jewels, and outward ornaments, but the travail of the merchant? who be autifies the Gardens with sundry sorts of fruits and flowers, but the travailing merchant? he may well be called the merchant, the Sea-singer, or the maker of the Sea to sing: the Sea-singer, when he hath fair wind and good weather, and maketh the Sea to sing, when she sees the goodly houses that float upon her waves, and cast anchor in her Sands. But let me leave the Sea, and come to the land, consider of the sweet and civil man●er of their lives, whose houses more neat? whose wives more modest? whose apparel more comely? whose diet more dainty? & whose carriage more commendable? valiant without quarrels, merry without madness, bountiful in their gifts, and coy in all their banquets? whose children are better nurtured? whose servants better governed? whose house better stuffed and maintained? Furthermore, what comfort have the distressed found beyond the Seas? and how many poor do they relieve at home? what Colleges? what Hospitals? what alms houses have they builded? and in effect what Cities have they enlarged, and what Countries have they enriched? how few Lawyers can say so? if that be all true, which much more might be said in their honour: give them their right, say the Merchant is a royal fellow, and go forwards with your intent, if you will ever have your son see any thing, know any thing, do any thing, or be worth any thing, put him to a Merchant, and give with him such a portion as out of his years may set up his trade or traffic: doubt not he will do well, and think not he can almost do better: so beseeching God to bless him in all his courses, without which will be worse than nothing, I pray you do as I wish you, charge him to serve God, and so turn him to the world: and thus having truly written you my opinion touching your purpose, wishing health and honour, and all happiness, to all worthy true Merchants, in hope of your health I commit you to the Almighty. London, this twentieth of August, 1604.  
Your very loving cozen▪ N. B.   

A Letter of Love to a most sweet and wise creature.  
SWeet, were that spirit that by the instinct of love doth understand the silence of truth: whose tongue is his heart, and whose wor●es are sighs, in which are hidden those secret fruits of comfort, that only grow in the ground of your grace: Vouchsafe therefore fair sweet, with the sunne-bright eyes of your beauty, to cast one look upon the rude lines of this poor Letter: which if it have been so unhappy as to move your displeasure, let the fire be the reward of his presumption: but if through the favour of the faults or the virtue of your gracious pity it hath been worthy the reading, let me be metamorphosed to worse than nothing, if I desire to be any other thing then that may pleese you in all ceremonies and circumstances, or in affection: and therefore, leaving, my service to your command, and my love to the life of your favour, wishing to die like the Phoenix, to receive in the beams of your beauty, I rest full of unrest, till I may fully rest,  
Yours as you may of you will; R. E.   

The Lady's answer.  
WIse were that heart which could pierce into the conceit of that spirit, which with the art of love, seeketh to enchant the trust of simplicity: which, for not suspecting of evill-falls upon the point of much misery: Oh poor truth, how art thou made a vail or cover for decet? when under the shadow of paradise, is sought the way to hell. Oh cursed trees that carry such fruit: but not to wrong any creature: Happy may that heart live, which in faith only seeks his felicity: and pardoned be that paper that doth but his duty. Let then all sighs be drowned in the depth of oblivion, while Silence understandeth that Virtue speaketh. Now for the nest of the Phoenix, if you can climb so high & carry away never a feather with you, than it is but a fiction, or virtue unhappy, but to wait the issue of honours hope, to the bliss of virtues favour, I rest, when I further understand you, as I think good to answer you: and till then, and always rest,  
Yours as falls, as I well may; A.B.   

A reply to the answer.  
Unworthy were that mind of the thought of love, which could give place to the treason of betraying of trust: and more than miserable were that life, that towards hell could make such a passage. Oh Angellike creature, think not the world the habitation only of the accursed: nor do wrong to love, in suspicion of truth: You say, happy be that life that seeks happiness in faithfulness: but what do you say to love? A simple conceit cannot descend into suspicion, and the thought of deceit is hateful to love: Be not then incredulous where love is virtuous, and for the fiction of the Phoenix, make the substance true in yourself, whose least thougte of favour, shall be worth all the feathers of the fairest bird that flieth. So reposing hopes comfort on the honour of your kindness, beseeching you to understand nothing of me more than all yours, I rest in that only rest, ever to rest.  
Yours only and all, E. A.   

An Answer to the same.  
Unhappy be that soul, which in suspicion of truth, should wrong the virtue of love; and blessed be that heart, which in hate of treason, makes faith his felicity. Silence is a language that conceit is only acquainted with, and gentle is that war, which gives no deadly wound: fear not then the pain that a breath will blow away, when the hope of comfort will cure the disease: but what need more figures? fly the way to hell, and find the way to heaven, Let thy heart go with thy tongue and the Echo will give a happy sound. Till when, not doubting the divine nature of love to be free from the devilish poison of deceit: I rest as I find reason.  
Yours in affection, though not assuring, M. ay,   

To his dearest, fairest, and worthiest of love, honour, and service, Mistress E. T.  
IF I should commend you above the Moon, and compare you with the Sun, you would put me in the clouds for a flatterer: but knowing your own worth, and finding the substance of my truth, you cannot blame, in admiration, to speak truth of your perfection, which of what power it is in drawing the service of reason, if you would believe, love would quickly tell you: but the course of inconstancy in the unwise: breedeth distrust of truth in the most faithful: but all birds are not of one feather, nor all men of one mind. In brief not to make a long harvest of a little torn, which being ripe, would be gathered in good time: let truth be my spokesman, and belief my comfort: the hope whereof, as my only worlds happiness, referring only to the care of your kindness, in the faith of true affection, I rest.  
Yours avowed and assured. R. N.   

A letter to a friend to borrow a piece of money.  
SIr, as nothing more trieth a friend then calamity, so is there nothing more grievous then to be beholding: In kindness therefore, if I may become your debtor for five pounds, it is not much yet will it pleasure me more than a little: your appointed day I will not break with you, and wherein I may thankfully require you, you shall find no forgetfulness of your kindness: but time is precious, and therefore entreating your speedy answer, in hope of no denial, I rest.  
Your assured friend to command. T. W.   

The Answer,  
I Would be as glad to pleasure you as any man, but truth cannot be blamed: for more than for my necessary use, that I cannot spate, I am not presently furnished: I pray you therefore take not a denial unkindly: for i● my credit will pleasure you, I will not fail my best to do you good: if otherwise you would urge me, it will ●●e to little purpose: and therefore sorry that I am not in tune to satisfy your expectation, I must leave patience to your kind discretion, which as you know me, shall command me: for I am, and will be to the uttermost of my power.  
your assured friend. D. S.   

To my best beloved cozen mistress H.C. at her house in pe. Chest  
MY good Cousin, I remember at my last being with you, we had some conference about consideration: believe me, when I consider the world, and what I have seen in it, and the best things of it, and that all if it effect, is as nothing or rather worse, if any thing at all, I wonder how men, who have so much judgement of good from evil: will show so little understanding of good, in following of evil: how can those men that know the in certain time of death, live as though they thought never to die? h●we can he that readeth, or heareth the word of god and believeth the truth of it, be so careless of it, and so disobedient to it? will men be sick, that may be whole ●or die, that may live? what shall I say? but as Paul said to the Corinthians: O ye foolish people: who hath bewitched ye? it is the word of God, that transgression is as the sin of witchcraft: and surely, if men were not bewitched with sin, they could not so delight in wickedness: being the cross and bar to all their happiness: could the thief consider the doom of the law, or the misery of the despoiled, surely he would not steal: if the adulterer did consider the filthiness of his action, and the shame of his folly, surely he would turn honest: if the murderer did consider the horror of death, and the terror of sin, he would never kill: In brief, if any sinner would look into the foul nature of sin, he would be out of love with it, and if ●ee did consider the power of God's wrath, he would be afraid of it: Nay, could or would man consider the goodness of God towards him, in commanding and forbidding nothing but that which is good for him, how could he be so forgetful of his own good, in offending the Author of all goodness: If the unthrift could consider the misery of wan●, sure he would not be careless of his estate: if the covetous could consider the misery of the poor, he would be more charitable: if the Swaggerer could consider the comeliness of sobriety, and the shame of immodesty, surely he would be more civil. If the magistrate did consider the misery of the poor, he would not be so careless of their torment, put them to such sorrow, but remember that justice without mercy, is to near a tuch of Tira●ny. If the offendant did consider the grief and shame of punishment, he▪ would contain himself within the compass of a better course. If ●ee that preacheth the word, and followeth it not, could consider the heaviness of God's judgement, and the shame of his folly, he would doubtless be more careful of his soul, and more kind to his flock: If the lawyer could consider the law of god▪ he would never grieve his client, nor speak against a known truth: but as I said before, to leave tediousness, it is the only lack of consideration, that maketh the heedless will of man to run the way of error, to the ruin of his best comfort, and therefore entreat you, notwithstanding my allowance of your judgement touching the heavenly providence, and power in the motion of all good actions: yet so to allow of my opinion, touching consideration, that it is a great, and one of the greatest causes of the confusion of reason, by the corruption of nature: and knowing that the care of your consideration is such as doth and may well give example to the most expert, to follow the rules of your directions in the whole course of your life, wishing myself so happy, as to enjoy the company of so good a friend, till I see you and ever: I rest in fast settled affection.  
Your very loving friend. N. V.   

To my sweet love mistress E. P.  
SWeet Love, if absence could breed forgetfulness, than fortune should do much harm to affection: but when the eye of the mind looketh into the joy of the heart, the sentence may well be spoken. As in silence you may hear me, so in absence you may see me: for love is not an hours humour, nor a shadow of light, but it is a light of the spirit, and a continuing passion: think not therefore, I do or can forget thee, or love myself, but for thee: shortly I hope to see thee, and in the mean time, though not with thee, yet not from thee, nor well at rest with myself, till I may rest only with thee, I rest always to rest.  
Thine only and all. ●. W.   

Her Answer.  
MY dear, if delays were not a death to love, excuse were currant in the construction of kingdoms: but sentences are better spoken then understood, and a pleasing presence, is better than an excused absence: remembrance is good, but possession better, and love holdeth memory, but a kind of melancholy. Let yourself therefore be your messenger rather of your love, than your letters, lest fortune in a mad fit be a cross to your best comfort, not in respect of my constancy, but my parent's unkindness, This is all I will write at this time, but wishing a happy time, to the beginning of a never ending, I rest till that time, and at all times on the same:  
Yours as you know. E. P.   

An old man's letter to a young widow.  
Widow, I have neither a smooth face nor a filled tongue, to cheat your eyes, nor abuse your ears withal: but a true heart, and a constant mind, that doth inwardly love you, and will n●uer deceive you: fickle heads, and unbridled wills, know not where, nor how to bestow themselves, when their wits go a woolgathering among shrews, that have bad ●●e●ces: they may be kind, but not constant, and love loves no out-lookers: beside, light heads have no stayed heels and a little wealth soon spent, who knoweth the woe of want can tell you the difference betwixt an old man's darling, and a young man's warling: Why? how can they love, that scarce know how to like? I know you have many suitors of worth: but none that I think worthy: for none can love you so much, nor esteem you so well: for I have known the world, and care not for it, nor for any thing but you. If therefore all I have may please you, and myself, to love and honour you, make my comfort your contentment, and I will seek no other paradise in this world. Thus hoping that reason in your favour, will effect the hope of my affection, leaving to yourself, to be yourself: I rest,  
Yours, or not his own. T.P.   

SIr, if I could ever see yo●, but in a Letter, I should delight much in your presence, but contraries are not correspondent: a gr●y b●ad and a green mind fit not, your persuasions were forcible, were not yourself of too much weakness▪ but, though for your good will. I thank you, yet for nothing will I be indebted to you: not for a world would I be troubled with you: for, as your years, so I fear our fancies will be different: and then patience moving, choler may breed discontentment: when to be an old man's d●rling is a kind of curse to nature: you say well, who can love, that knows not how to like? and the senses uncapable of their comfort, what is imagination but a dream? a blind man can judge no colours, a deaf man hath no skill in music, a dumb man no eloquence, and an old man little feeling in loves passion● for my suitors they suit my time, and serve their own, and for their worth. I shall judge of the most worthy: now for their wits, if they lose not their own fleeces, let them gather wool where they can, but for your love, I will not venture on it, least being too old, it be not sweet, and for my young suitors, I hope I shall take heed of shadowed sourness: and for fortune, while virtue governs affection, I will not fear my felicity: so hoping your own reason will persuade you to have patience with your passion, and leave me to my better comfort: meaning to be as you wish me, myself: & none other: I rest,  
Not yours, if mine own. P. M.   

A letter of a young man to his sweet heart.  
MY love, if I could have as good passage as my Letters, I would be a better messenger of my thoughts, than my words can express: but as the secret of my heart is sealed up in my letter, so is the secret of my love sealed up in my heart: which none can see, but your eyes, nor shall know, but your kindness, Let me not then languish in the lingering hope of my desires, but hasten my comfort in the only answer of your content: you know the hour of the first meeeting of our fantasies, the true continuance of our irremovable affections, and why will you not appoint the conclusion of our comfort? Trial cannot let you doubt my love: and love will be sworn for the security of my truth: both which thus far plead for me in your favour: give truth the reward of trial, and love the regard of truth, and desire not the sentence of justice to let me live or die in your judgement: for imprisoned I am in your beauty, bound in 〈◊〉 ●ands of your service, and live but in the hope of your favour, in which I rest ever and only, to rest happy in this world.  
Yours, though not yours, R. E.   

An answer to this letter.  
MY sweet, I rather wish yourself, than your letter, though in the haste of your desire, your presence had been to little purpose: for deeds are in a good way, that are subscribed and sealed; but till the delivery be made, the matter is not fully finished, have therefore patience for a time, for it is soon enough, that is well enough: and yet I confess in kindness, delay is little comfort: yet stay for a fair day though it be almost at noon, be persuaded of my affection, and let faith fear no fortune, for love can be no changeling, and so imagine of my self: when you offend, I will punish you, and when you ●oe please, I will praise you▪ so assuring truth belief, and love comfort, I rest so soon as I well may, to give the reason of your best rest: and till then and ●uer will rest.  
Yours as I may. M. I.   

A merry letter of news to a friend,  
RIght Troi●●, I know thou lovest no complement, nor carest for any tricks, but as a good fellow, and a friend, wouldst hea●e how the world goeth: with all the world I am not acquainted with, and therefore I know not what to say to it, but for the little part of it, the petty place, or parish where I dwell, and some few miles about it, I will tell you, there is a fall of Coneys: for there is such a world of them every day in the market, that except they be young and fat, there is little money bidden for them: ●ackenie jades are ●●arce worth their meat; and every house hath such a dog, that not a beggar ●are come near a door: and not a mouse at a cheese but a cat is at her heels: Maide-marion of late was got with child in her sleep, and the Hobby-horse was half mad, that the fool should be the father of it: a great talk there is of setting up of a new tavern, but Tobacco is the thing that will vent the old sack: there is spoken so much gibbing, that we have almost forgot our mother tongue: for every boy in our school hath latin at his fingas' ends▪ marry 'tis in a book, for all his wit is in his copy for in capite he hath little: our free school is n●w painted with wisdom over the gate: for within, except some unhappy wag, there is no more wit than is necessary: vow for other news I will tell you, wet weather frights us with a hard har●est, and usurers are half mad, for lack of utterance of their money: Law was never more in use, nor men more out of money: & for women they are strange creatures, for some of them have three faces: and so fine in proud paces, that if they carry it as they do, they will put many men out of countenance: for other ordinary matters, they are as you left them, a pot of ale to worth a penny, a Bawd will have brave clothes, the man in the moon is above the clouds, and the knave of Clubs will still make one in the stock: other things there are, that I am shortly to acquaint you with: in the mean time write unto me how thou dost, and how the mind blows on your side, and so sorry I have no good thing to send thee, with the love of my heart I commit thee to the almighty,  
Thine to the end. M.R.   

An Answer.  
THou mad villain, what hath walk about thy brains, to put thy wits in such atemper? a tale of a tub, and the bottom out: well, to quite your kindness, you shall know somewhat of our world. So it is, that the Fox hath made a hand with most of our fat Geese, the Wolf meets with our Lambs before they can welgoe from the dam, and the water-rat hath so spoiled our sish-pools▪ that if he had not been caught with a trap, we might have gone to the Sea for a red herring: Our Ba●●●ffes Bul runs through all the Rye in our parish, and the Tanner's dog hath worried a wild Sow. The Bailiff of our hundredth takes upon him like a justice, & since the new Alehouse was set up, the constable is much troubled: but though oats be rank, and rye be ripe, wheat is but thin, and Barley short, good fellowship goes down the wind, and yet wenches are right bred, our Piper is fallen sick of an Ale surfeit, and old ●uddle got a blow at midnight, that makes him straddle all day: Parnell shall have her sweet heart, in spite of Tom. Tinker, and there is windering in the town, that thou art not in the jail before the Sessions: but be thou of● good cheer, there is time enough for a good turn, and come when thou wilt, thou shalt make thine own welcome. Oh mad stave, let me be merry with thee a little, for thou knowest I love thee: thy Grandsire is going to his grave, and hath bequeathed thee, a knaves portion: the Bell hath gone for him, but so soon as he is past, I will sand thee word in post, that for grief of his death thou mayst drink to all christian souls, thy sister is where she was, and swears thou art honester than thy father. I will say no more, but thou haste friends that thou knowest not, and therefore come when thou wilt, we will have a health ere we part: and so in haste farewell.  
Thine to the proof: R. S.   

To a young man going to travel beyond the Sea.  
GOod Cousin, I find by your last letter, your present intent to travel, I pray God it fall out for your good▪ for though in respect of your years, your body be in good state to endure some hardness, yet there is difference in the natures of countries, both in the air, and the diet: but above these things, there are many things to be observed, that negligently regarded, may be greatly to your hurt: as first, for your religion, have a great care that your eyes lead not your heart after the horror of Idolatry, serve God sincerely, not fondly: not in show, but in truth of zeal: and for all your comfort in all your course▪ that you trust in him and none else: now secondly, for your carcase, take heed of too much following the feminine set and pray for continency, it is a blessed virtue: I speak not this, for the common or base sort, for I hope your spirit is too high to stoop to such game, but as the sirens, whose faces are bewitching objects, and whose voices, as Enchanting music if these be in the way of your ear or your eye, hast you from them, lest too late you find it too true, that you will hardly scape drowning when you are over head and ears: such weeds will hang on your heels, as will so hinder your swimming that you will hardly overcome it in health, if you hap to scape with your life: furthermore, if you meet with some chaste Penilasse whose beauty walks even with her virtue: let not a chaste eye in her, beget an unchaste thought in you; I speak not this in fear of any thing but your youth, ye● though I know you well disposed in many ways, I doubt you are not right in all▪ & this being a thing that I know most necessary, I thought in my love to give you●punc; a note of: now for your purse, let it be private to your own knowledge, lest it be an occasion of your unhappiness, and breed you more partakers then for your profit: Now for your tongue, let it follow your wit, and tip it with truth, that it may abide all ●utch: and for your diet, let it be sparing: for better leave with an appetite, then go to Physic for a surfeit: now for your conversation, choose the wise, and rather hear them, then trouble them, and against all fortunes, take patience in all your passage: so serving God, and observing the word, no doubt but you shall make a benefit of your voyage, and I shall be joyful of your return, and thus loath to tire you with a long tale, when I know in a little you will understand much: in prayer for your good success and sa●e return, I commit you to the Almighty.  
Your affectionate kinsman and assured friend. N.B.   

To his friend G.T. in his time of sickness, and sorrow for a great misfortune.  
Dear George, knowing the cause, though not the condition of thy sickness, I am bold a little to advise thee for the better recovery of thy health: Thou knowest that there is nothing passeth neither under nor above the heavens, but either by the direction or permission of the wisdom of the Almighty: there is no day but hath his night, no Element but hath his contrary, nor comfort on the earth without a cross: thou art sorry to see the cruelty of fortune, but turn thine eyes to a better light, and thou shalt see it a trial of God's love: for if nature be accursed for sin, thou must find it in this world or another: and the second death is worse than the first. If sickness maken thee feel the hand of God, shall not patience make thee try his mercy? and health make thee know his love? if losses make thee poor, wert thou not beteer with patience be God's beggar, then in pride the world's king? grieve not then at thy fortune, but live by thy faith: ●e rather job then a Saul, for there is no spurning against so sharp a prick as God's purpose: I am sorry for thy sickness, but more for the cause, for to mourn to no end is mee●e folly, and a pi●ing sickness is a sign, of more passion than patience: Christ suffered for thee, suffer thou for thyself, lay away thy too much melancholy, for sighing is womanish, and weeping is babish: be wise therefore for thyself, and be good to thy sefe, pluck up thy spirits, and put thyself only upon God, live not like a dead man, but die like a living man, let not fortune be a messenger of death, nor impatience a prejudice to thy health, take thy horse and ride over to me, and take the time as it falls: if fair the fewer clothes: if foul, take a cloak, but defer n●t the time, for thought pierceth apace, & for the mind there is no physic, but patience and mirth: bring the first with thee, and the last I will provide for thee: till when, wishing thee once out of thy solemn Celi, and to take my house for thy better comfort, till I see thee and always, I rest.  
Th●●e in all mine own. D.R.   

An answer to the same.  
HOw easily the healthful can give counsel to the sick, & how hardly they can take it, I would I were not in case to prove, but I see patience need not be persuaded, for where pain is, ●hee will be entertained, I know there is no re●●sting of God's power, nor muttering against it: but yet think that flesh and blood in many things hath much ado to bear it: & though fortune be a fiction, yet it troubleth many fine wits, and the trial of patience, puts the best spirits to a hard point: never to have had, is little woe to want, but to lose, hopeless of recovery, will sting the heart of a good mind: a sorrow is sooner taken then put off, & death is comfortable to the afflicted: fools cannot take thought, & knaves will not: but the honest & careful understand the plague of misery: if death be this way ordained me, I cannot avoid it, & if hell come unlooked for, I shall be glad of it, but I am too weak, too rude, & too full of grief to go: but if you will take the pains to make me try the comfort of your company, my cell shall have some ●●ome to entertain a friend for such a need: & knowing your love, can account no less▪ I pray you therefore without further ceremonies, let me see you very shortly, if I live you shall know my kindness, if I die you shall find my love, so drawing towards a fevers fit, I am forced thus to conclude: in the spite of fortune, in the grace of god I will digest what I can, & pray for patience for the rest, & so hoping speedily to see you, till then and always I rest.  
In sickness and in health, thine what mine, R.H.   

An younger brother to his elder, fallen unhappily on a little wealth, and suddenly grown fond proud.  
GOod brother, as I am glad to hear of your health, so am I sorry to hear of your ill carriage, it is told me by them that I can believe, that your wealth which should make you gracious, makes you in a manner odious: Why, it is wonderful that you can so suddenly metamorphose your mind from wit to folly: it grieveth me to hear● your description of almost as ma●y as know you, it is said you look over the moon, walk as upon stilts, speak as it were for charity, and with a swelling conceit of your wealth, make your face like one of the four winds: in your apparel you are womanish, your Ruffs set so in print, your beard so starched, and your countenance so set, that you are rather meet for a prologue before a Comedy, then to give example of civility: formality is a kind of folly, when he that walks upright like a Rabbot, is like a Boy that should say grace: they say you are seldom without a flower in your mouth, I would it were fitly perfumed, to the desert of your folly: you wear your cloak always abroad, that one may see your silken outside: and your garters beneath your knee are ready to weep for a rose: all these notes are taken of you, and with all, that to mainetain this pride you are as covetous as the devil: for▪ as I here, you are both an Usurer and a Broker: and have more cunning tricks in your trade, than an honest heart could away withal: truly this is not well: for your estate needs it not, your education doth teach it, let me therefore entreat you, to turn a new leaf: sing a new song: be courteous, but not covetous: kind, but not proud: and have a conscience in all your courses: for there must be an end of all your matters; and repentance will be the best payment of your ill taken accounts: believe it, for you shall find it at last, I wish not too late: and so, out of the sincere love of a true heart that holds you as dear as his own life, rather desirous to tell you, what I find amiss in you, then to soothe you in what I find grievous in you, to his grace that may amend you, with my prayer for you, I leave you.  
your true loving brother. R. B.   

To a fair proud T●t.  
Fair Mistress, why should you turn that to a curse, which was given you for a blessing? I mean your beauty, which should have made you gracious, but hath filled you so full of pride, that you mar your colour with an ill countenance, and when you speak, you counterfeit such a kind of lisping, that you cannot bring out a wise word: your bodies are made so strait, and your Farthingale so great, that in steed of a woman, you make an Antic of yourself: I am plain, but tell you troth, I think you are best in your quoiting coat: for your tricking and your tiring takes away all your proportion: so that the Painter and the Tasler, have put nature out of countenance: but since it is the fashion, for fools to wear a coxcomb, let them wear feathers that list, I will not blow them away: but as a good friend let me tell you, that tell you but for your good, be honest and be hangd'e, and let knavery go to the devil: stand unt leering in your door, nor devise lies to make fools, nor use tricks to pick pockets, for in the end all will be nought: for the pox, or the gallows, or the devil, will be the reward of plain lechery, if in the way you scape beggary: and therefore follow my counsel, give over betimes, before it give over you: and since I have turned my coat, turn your old gown, and we will joy together, to go both in a livery: for say the word, and I am for thee: and so till I hear from thee, I commend me to thee.  
Thine if thou wilt, D.H.   

Her Answer.  
YOu wicked villain, hast thou played the jew so long, that thou art weary of thyself? and now comest to me for a companion? soft snatch, your trick is an Ace out, and of all the cards I love not a knave: my beauty is not for blear eyes, nor shall pretended honesty cheat my folly: hast thou had three occupations, and none thrive? a peddler? a Parasite? and a Pander? and now wouldst be a Coney-catcher? Sir, I have no game for your ferit: and therefore hunt further: Now for my leers and my looks, and my tricks and my toys▪ if they fit not your humour, I am not for you: but for the poor, and the gallows, and the devil and the ale house, keep you from them and I will keep me from you: and if I thought I might trust thee, I could put thee into fools paradise: but if thou art not afraid of sparrow blasting, come home and take a birdes-nest: which if it be better than a woodcock, thank the heavens for thy good Fortune, and me for my good will; and so till I see thy livery, I leave thee to thyself.  
Thine, if I like. M.T.   

A kind Sister, to her loving Brother.  
MY dear Brother, as you know our love began almost in our Cradles, so I pray you let it continue to our graves, I have had a bad husband, and you no good wife, and yet with patience we have lived to see the strange changes of times: but we must one day walk after our friends, and therefore in the mean time, let us make much one of another: write unto me, how you do in body and mind, and when I shall be so happy as to enjoy your good company: for being alone, you may be as a husband and a Brother to control my servants, and comfort myself: believe me, I long to see you: and in the mean time to hear from you, and therefore I pray you let no Messenger pass without some few lines of your kind love, which are as dear to me as my life, this I pray you let me not fail off. And so with my hearty Commendations and most ●inde Love, in my daily prayers for thy health, I leave thee to the Almighty.  
Thy very loving Sister. A.N.   

His Answer.  
Sweet Sister, I have received your kind letter, for which I return you many kind thanks: my body I thank God is in good health, but my mind somewhat out of temper, for I see three things that do much grieve me, A Fool rich, a Wise man wicked, and an Honest man poor for the first, either Prodigally waste himself, or like a dog in a benchehole, hoards up his mon●e he knows not for whom: the second turns wit to an evil course, that might compass better matter: and the third, lives in grief, that he cannot show the virtue of his condition. But, when I consider again, that here is no paradise, the angels live in Heaven, and Hell is too near unto the Earth, I am glad I can fall to prayer, to shun the traps of the deceitful: And since I cannot go from the course of Fates, to take my fortune as patiently as I can. You say well, we have lived to see much, and yet must die when we have seen all: you are rid of a trouble, and I well freed of a torment: yet are there crosses enough, to try the care of a good Conscience: in which I doubt not your wisdom, nor shall you of my will: but as patience is the salve of misery, so is Love the joy of Nature: in which as we are nearly linked, so let v● live unseparable: shortly I hope to see you, and till then, and ever will love you: The Lord of heaven bless you, and in his good mercy keep you: So with my heart's love to you, to the Lords tuition, I leave you,  
Your very loving Brtother, E. B.   

A young man to his first love.  
Sweet Love, since first I saw you, I have seen none like you, nor like any, but only you: my reason is drawn out of many grounds, and all in your graces, For first, your Beauty being such as exceedeth my commendation, your wit too high for my reason to reach, and your demeanour so discreet, as drives me only to wonder: believe my affection, to be untouched with untruth, and requi●e my love, with some token of your good liking: for being the first star that hath made me study Astronomy, let me not live in the clouds of your discomfort: lest in a mist of misery, I fall to the lowest of Fortune; Leaving therefore my life to your favour, or my death to your frown, I rest restless, till I may rest.  
Yours only, and all. T. P   

Her Answer.  
If your heart were in your eyes, and your words were all truth, I should believe a strange tale of the great force of fancy, but I must entreat your pardon to pause upon my judgement of your opinion: I would I were as you writ me, though I did not requite you as you wish me: for though I would not be unkind, yet will I not be uncareful. Astronomy is too high a study for my capacity, & the clouds are fittest dwellings for them that are so high minded, that the earth cannot hold them: In brief therefore, build no castles in the air, lest they happen to fall on your neck: distrust not your fortune where your affection is faithful, nor put your life to loves passion, lest it try your patience too much: howsoever it be, carry reason in all your courses, and your care will have the more comfort: to which, I wish you as much hope as a true heart may deserve, and so not knowing your rest, will trouble you no further, but rest as I have reason.  
Yours in good will. A.M.   

A travailer beyond the Sea, to his wife in England.  
Dear wife, the misery of my fortune is more than can eastlie be borne, and yet the most of grief is to be absent from thee, and my little ones: but as a Den to her Chickens, be kind to them till I see thee, and pray for my success as I do for thy health: from many dangers, God hath delivered me: and I hope will after many storms, send me a fair day to do me good, and a fair wind to bring me home: in the mean time I will have patience, and entreat thee the like, for love so long settled I know cannot lose his nature: and therefore not doubting thy constancy, I commend me to thy kindness kiss my babes for me, and kindly receive for thyself and them such tokens as by this bearer I send thee, for thee and them: & thus hoping of thy health, as my hearts greatest happiness in this world, in prayer for the same, and thee, and thine evermore, I rest: Amsterdam, this 20. of August. 1604.  
Thy dear loving husband. T.M.   

SWeet heart, let me entreat thee to be as merry as thou canst in spite of fortune and all her fury: for if thou hast but life to bring home, yet love shall bid thee welcome, my prayer and thy little ones is daily for thee, we all long to see thee, & think it long to be so long without thee, but knowing thy intent for our good, we will have patience till thy coming, and pray for the speed of it, with good success of thy travail: the posts haste is great and therefore I must end, for thy kind letters and tokens I thank thee so mewhat by this bearer I have sent thee, my notes in my letter, will tell you what, with my heart's love, which can hold nothing from you, but avoweth all I am and have, ready for you: so with my babes kisses and my own, in prayer for thy health and hearts-ease I commit thee to the Almighty, London, This 23, of September, 1604.  
Thy very loving wife. E.A.   

To his friend that was in love,  
HOnest Wilkin, I cannot but mourn for thee, to see thee in such a taking, as I thought never to have taken thee in. I hear sait thou art in love, is it possible to be true, that the spirit of error could ever have taken such possession of thy wit, to make a saint of an Idol, and lose thyself in a maze? why? first, the thing love, is another world than this, and hath little business with such creatures as thou keepest too: I am sorry to hear how thou windest thyself, into such a net, that thou canst no way get loose: fit upon folly, leave thy fancy, lest thou be sorry too late, & then no man will pity there: what● have both eyes, and be stark blind? ears, and hast heard nothing? a nose, and can smell nothing? a wit and can perceive nothing? and a heart that can feel nothing, to put thee from this new-nothing, which thou hast met with, called love? Why? let me tell thee what it is: simply, I cannot tell thee: but what are the qualities of it, as I have heard and read of it, I will deliver thee: It will Cuckold age, and befool youth: betray beauty, and waste wealth: dishonour virtue, and work villainy: this kind of love I mean, that makes thee dance trenchmore without a pipe: it will not let one sleep, nor eat, nor drink, nor stand, nor sit in quiet: it will teach a fool to flatter, a knave to lie, a wench to dance, and a scholar to be a Poet, before he can hit the right way of a kind verse, it will make a Soldier lazy, a Courtier wanton, a Lawyeridle, a Merchant poor, and a poor man a beggar: it will make a wise man a fool, and a fool quite out of his wits: it will make a man womanish, and a woman, Apish: To be short, there is so much ill to be said of it, that he is happy who hath not to do with it. If therefore thou be not too far gone, come back again, if thou canst lea●e thy study, lay away thy book, and think of other matter, than the mouth of Venus, least Mars be angry, or Vulcan play the villain, when Cupid shall be whipped for shooting away of his arrows: In fine, give over thy humour, for it is no better than a fancy: and live with me but a day, & thou wilt be in hate with it all night: for the desire is fleshly, and the delight is filthy: the suit is costly, and the fruit of it but folly: Leave beauty to the painter, to help him in his Art: wit to the Scholar, to help the weakness of his memory, and wealth to the Merchant, to increase his stock: Cases to the Lawyer, to help his pleading, honour to the Soldier, to put forth his valour: and so let thy mistress be divided among them, and when they are all together by the ears, come thou away to me, and live with me: and credit me, thou wilt in the end thank me●, for dealing thus truly and plainly with thee, In the mean time; let me hear from thee, what I shall hope of thee: for as thou knowest, I love thee, so in my love have I written to thee, what I know is good for thee, and what I wish may do good with thee. And thus till I see thee, in hearty prayer for thee, and like commendations to thee, to the Lord of heaven I leave thee.  
Thine as thou knowest. L.E.   

Her Answer.  
GOod Goose eat no more hay: what a noise hast thou made with keaking at nothing? Thou hast heard, thou knowest not what, and talkest thou knowest not how: take a woodcock in a spring, and touch not me with these terms: now for thy mourning, let it be for the loss of thy wit, for I have no fear of had I wist: Love (quoth he) yes, never knew what it is, and yet speak so much of it: either you wrong it or yourself, that you no better understand it: for let me tell you, you are mistaken in it: it is the light of beauty, the bliss of nature, the honour of reason, and the joy of time: the comfort of age, and the life of youth: it is the tongue of truth, the stay of wit, and the rule of understanding: it is the bridle of will, & the grace of sense: it makes a man kind, and a woman constant: and while fools and Apes, play bo-peep for a pudding, Lovers have a life, that they would not leave for a mountain. Now for Mars and Venus, they are studies for school boys, and he that feareth Vulcan, let him be whipped for Cupid. To be short, thou art strangely out of tune, to write me such a piece of music: for were I but in the way, shall I turn back to thy whistle? no, thou knowest not what it is, and therefore talk no more of it: for hadst thou but once kindly had a taste of it, thou wouldst die ere thou wouldst leave it: believe it, I know it, and therefore for thy derision of my mistress, I will take it as a dream, and be sorry, that awake thou hadst no more wit then to write it: but let all unkindness pass, it may be I will shortly see thee: and then make thee glad to yield to me, that thou art in a foul error to wish me leave my love, to live with thee; but since I know thy kindness, I will bear with thy weakness, and in the faith of an old friend, hearken to thee in an other matter: & so wishing thee no more to envy so much against a matter of so excellent virtue, I will leave thee for this time, and rest always,  
Thine as mine own, R.P.   

To his only and all beloved, E. S.  
Truly sweet heart, I am so out of order with myself, with the extremity of love that I bear you, that my heart is even at my mouth, to say sweet heart, when I think on you: and if I but hear your name, it makes me start as though I should see you, and when I look on my handkerchief that you wrought me, I thank you, with coventry blew: oh how I lift up mine eyes to heaven, and say to myself, oh there is a wench in the world: well go to, but when ● see my jet ring that you sent me by your brother Will, I do so kiss it, as if you were even within it. Oh Nell, 'tis not to be spoken, the affection that I bear thee: why I fereted all night for the Rabbot I sent ●h●e, and have been in the wood all day, to seek a fine birds nest for ●hee: my mother is m●king of a cheesecake, and she hath promised ●t me for thee; well, believe me? love thee, and my 〈◊〉 shoes come home on Saturday, ●le see thee on Sunda●e and we will drink together that's once, ●or indeed I to love thee: Why my heart is never from thee, for over and beside that. I think on thee all day, I ●oe so dream on thee all night, that our folks say in my sleep, I call thee sweee heart, & when I am awake and remember my dream, I sigh and say nothing, but I would I wot what, but 'tis no matter, it shall be▪ and that sooner than some think: for though the old trust my father, and old gramme my mother will not come out with their Crowns, I care not, I am all their Sons, and therefore I shall have all the Land●, and therefore having a good Farm, we shall make shift for money: And therefore sweet heart, for so I well dare call thee, I pray thee be of good cheer: wash thy face, and put on the Gloves that I gave thee: for we are full asked next Sunday, & the Sunday after you know what: for I have your father's good will, and you have my Mothers: and therefore: if Buckle and Thong hold, we will load our Packs together: I would have said somewhat else to you, but it was out of my head, and our Schoolmaster was so busy with his boys, that he would scarce write thus much for me. But farewell, and remember Sunday.  
Thine own, from all the world. T. P.   

To her heart of Gold, and best beloved.  
Noun Love, and kind soul, I thank thee for thy sweet letter, a thousand times, I warrant thee it hath been read, and read over again, oftener than I have fingers and toes: every night, I get up our man into my Chamber, and there by my beds side he sits and reads it to me: still, still, till I am almost asl●epe, but when he reads, so often sweet heart, and I love thee, Oh say I, you do lie, and he swears no: and then I say, I thank you T●●, no love lost: for I am no changeling: and when he comes to dream and wake, and wish, I will not tell you what I think yet, but one day I will tell you more: in the mean time, be content, and trust me I have a band in hand for thee, that shall be done afore the time: and let our friends do their wills, we will not hang after their humours: No, I am thine, and thou art mine, and that not for a day, but for ever and ever: My mother hath stolen a whole peck of flower for a Bryde-Cake, and our man hath sworn, he will steal me a brave Rosemary bush: I have spoken for ●le, that will make a Cat speak: and the Youth of our Parish have sworn to bring the blind fiddler: well be of good cheer, on sunday I will be at Church, and if there be any dancing, I hope to have about with you. And till then, and the Sondaie after, and every day after that, God be with you. Written by our man, at my beds side at midnight, when the folks were all asleep.  
Your true loving in heart, till Death us depart. E. S.   

An angry letter, by a young Lover in the Country, to his love. M. N,  
MArgerie, the truth is, you do not use me well: what do I get by you to lose my days work, and sit on a style blowing my fingers in the cold, in hope to meet you a milking, and you send an other in your room, and go to market an other way: well, if I be not your sweet heart, much good do you with your choice: I hope my father's son is worthy of your mother's daughter; Your Pricking in a clout is not so good as a plough: and for your portion, I can have your betters: but 'tis no matter, he is cursed in his Cradle, that trusts any of your words, and therefore since 'tis as 'tis, let it be as 'twil: I will not put at my heart, that you hang at your heels. Well to be short, take it for a wa●●ing, for I am angry: if you serve me some again, you shall serve me so no more, that is once: and therefore either be, as you should be, or be as you list, for I will not digest more than I can, that is the truth: other folk see it as well as I, what a fool you make of me, but 'tis no matter, I may live to be meet with you: but yet, if you will give over your gadding, and be ruled by your friends counsel, I can be content to forget all that is past, and to be as good friends as ere we were. And so hoping to hear better of you, than some folks think of you, meaning to be at your town, the next market day, if you will meet me at the Rose, we will have a Cake, and a cup of Ale, and may hap be merry ere we part: and so farewell.  
Your Friend, as you use me▪ B. D.   

BArnaby, you are much too bl●me to fall out with yourself, for want of better company: If you be angry, turn the buckle of your girdle behind you: for I know no Body is in love with you. What's here to do with my Father's horse and your mother's mare? Why, I wonder what you ail, is the Moon in the Eclipse, that you are so out of Temper? Now truth, 'tis pity a fool cannot have a little wit, but he will spend it all in a few words: Alas the day, it will be night by and by, and if you be so peevish to put pepper in the Nose, if you can s●●ese both ways, you are in no danger of Death. Well, to be plain, care for yourself if you will: for in truth, I will take no charge of you: For if you will hold on your course, you may walk whither you will, and no body look after you: for myself, I will forget your Name, and proper person, I hope there is none so mad as to be in love withal. In conclusion, come not to me till I send for you, nor look after me, till I bid you, I will drink no Bottle ale with such a bottle nose, nor desire to come to market to meet such a companion: and so glad to have this occasion to try your patience, the foreman of fools be your woodcock father, and teach you better how to use your wit if you have any: And so in as little love as I can, saving my charity: In hearty good will, I leave you as I found you: and so rest,  
Your friend as you see, M. A.   

To her more friendly, then believed faithful, M. Tho. Iewell.  
A Bitter sweet is like a Physical potion, if I be so to your thoughts, I hope I shall purge your head of ill humours: and then faming fancy, that would deceive plain simplicity, will abuse neither of us: and if your flattery were not gross in my complexion, I should have no suspect of your condition: with how far it is from your protested truth, I leave to the secret confession of your little affection: words follow thoughts at the heels, and thoughts keep the head▪ not the heart: where the brains a little troubled, it puts the wit much out of temper: and therefore wishing you to leave honour to the noble, and service to the wealthy, give me leave to like of equality, and to settle my affection in discretion: which hating to disgrace the well deserving, cannot but daily favour the faithful: distrust is a kind of jealousy: which if I could love, I should perhaps be acquainted with: but solitariness b●ing so sweet a life, why should I seek my hurt in a worse course: yet am I not borne for myself, and therefore will hearken to reason, and yet no further then to know the worth of a jewei before I pay too dear for the wearing of it: and therefore let this suffice you, that no heaven being in this wo●lde, take heed of a ●ell of your own makin●: and putting away the clouds of idle humours, look into the height of that love, that by the direction of virtue, may bring you to honour: to which, if my help may avail. I will say Amen to such prayers, as may be made in a good mind: In which, hoping you will labour to rest in, I leave you to your best rest: and so rest,  
Your friend, as far as I may not be mine own enemy. S. P.   
FINIS.