Had I one sutor swore himselfe loue-sicke, Another for his Mistris sake would die, A third thorow _Cupids_ power growne lunaticke, A fourth that languishing past hope did lye: And so fift, sixt, and seauenth in loues passion, My Maiden-head for them should ner'e change fashion. _Aeneas_ told many a cogging tale, To Dido that renowned worthy Queene, And _Iason_ with his flatterings did preuaile, Yet falser knaues in loue were neuer seene: And at this instant hower, as they were then, The world aboundeth with deceitfull men. _Doll_. _Iane_, thats too true, for to you all I sweare, How I was bobd by one tis shame to tell, A smoother fellow neuer wench did heare, And as I liue, I thought he lou'd me well: Heere you shall fee one of his cunning letters, Which still I keepe, & meane to shew his betters. In Romane hand, on guilded paper writ, Pray _Dorothy_ read you it to the rest, But whether his owne head inuented it, Or robd some printed Booke, I doe protest: I cannot tell, but his owne name is to it, Which proues he takes vpon him for to doe it. * * * * * The Loue Letter. _The truest heart, shall nought but falshood cherish, The mildest man, a cruell tyrant prooue, The water drops, the hardest flint shall perish, The hilles shall walke, and massie earth remooue: The brightest Sun shall turne to darkesome clowde, Ere I prooue false, where I my loue haue vowde._ _Ere I prooue false, the world desolu'd shall be, To that same nothing that it was before, Ere I prooue false mine eyes shall cease to see, And breath of life shall breath in me no more: The strong built frame shall moue from his foundation Ere I remoue my soules determination._ _Death shall forget to kill, and men to dye, Condemned soules shall laugh, and cease to mourne, The lowest hell shall rise and meete the skye, Time shall forget his course and backe returne: Contrary vnto kinde each thing shall proue, Ere I be false or once forget my loue._ _Oh then deare heart regard my sad estate, My passions griefe and wofull lamentation, Oh pittie me ere pittie come too late, That hold thee deare past mans imagination: Preserue my life and say that thou wilt haue me, Or else I die the whole world cannot saue me_. _Grace_. This is a Ballad I haue heard it sung. _Doll_. Well, be or be not, that's not to the matter, But who will trust a louers pen or tongue, That vse all protestations thus to flatter: For this base fellow that was so perplext, Sent this one monday, and was married next. _Sara_. Now out vpon him most dissembling creature, Ile warrant you that he can neuer thriue, He showes himselfe, euen of as bad a nature, As euer was in any man aliue: Alas poore foole that hath this fellow got, Shee hath a Iewell of him, hath she not? _Nell_.