University of Virginia Library

Scena Tertia.

Enter Strumbo above in a gown, with ink and paper in his hand saying.
Strum.

Either the four Elements, the seven Planets
and all the particular Starrs of the Pole Antastick, are
adversitive against me, or else I was begotten and born
in the wain of the Moon, when every thing, as
Lactantius in his fourth book of Constultations doth
say, goeth arsward. I Masters, I, you may laugh, but
I must weep; you may joy, but I must sorrow; shedding
salt tears from the watry fountains of my moist
dainty fair eyes, along my comely and smooth cheeks, in as
great plenty as the water runneth from the bucking-tubs,
or red wine out of the Hogs-heads: for trust me gentlemen
and my very good friends, and so forth: the little
god, nay the desperate god Cuprit, with one of his
vengible bird-bolts, hath shot me unto the heel: so not
only, but also, oh fine phrase, I burn, I burn, and
I burn a, in love, in love, and in love a, ah Strumbo,
what hast thou seen, not Dina with the Asse Tom?
Yea with these eyes thou hast seen her, and therefore
pull them out: for they will work thy bail. Ah Strumbo,
hast thou heard the voice of the Nightingale, but a
voice sweeter then hers, yea with these ears hast thou
heard them, and therefore cut them off, for they have
caus'd thy sorrow. Nay Strumbo, kill thy self, drown
thy self, hang thy self, starve thy self. Oh but then
I shall leave my sweet heart. Oh my heart! Now pate
for thy Master, I will dite an aliquant love-pistle to her,
and then she hearing the grand verbosity of my scripture,
will love me presently,

Let him write a little, and then read.

My pen is naught, Gentlemen lend me a knife, I think
the more haste the worst speed.

Then write again, and after read.

So it is, Mistris Dorothie, and the sole essence of
my soul, that the little sparkles of affection kindled in
me towards your sweet self, hath now increased to a great
flame, and will ere it be long consume my poor heart,
except you with the pleasant water of your secret fountain,

quench the furious heat of the same. Alass, I am a
Gentleman of good fame, and name, majesticall, in apparell
comely, in gate portly. Let not therefore your gentle
heart be so hard, as to despise a proper tall young
man of a handsome life, and by despising him, not only
but also to kill him. Thus expecting time and tide, I bid
you farewell. Your Servant, Signior Strumbo.

Oh wit, O pate, O memory, O hand, O Ink, O paper.
Well, now I will send it away. Trompart, Trompart,
what a Villain is this? Why sirrha, come when your
Master calls you. Trompart.

Trompart
entering saith

Anon, sir.

Strumbo.

Thou knowest, my pretty Boy, what a good
Master I have been to thee ever since I took thee into my
service.

Trom.

I, sir.

Srum.

And how I have cherished thee alwayes, as if
thou hadst been the fruit of my loynes, flesh of my flesh,
and bone of my bone.

Trom.

I, sir.

Strum.

Then shew thy self herein a trusty servant, and
carry this Letter to Mistress Dorothy, and tell her.

Speaking in his eare.
Exit Trompart.
Strum.

Nay, Masters, you shall see a Marriage by
and by. But here she comes. Now must I frame my amorous
passions.

Enter Dorothy and Trompart.
Doro.

Signior Strumbo, well met, I received your
Letters by your man here, who told me a pittifull story
of your anguish, and so understanding your passions were
so great, I came hither speedily.

Strum.

Oh, my sweet and pigsney, the fecundity
of my ingenie is not so great, that may declare unto you
the sorrowfull sobs, and broken sleeps that I suffered for
your sake; and therefore I desire you to receive me into
your familiarity.

Dor.

Truly, M. Strumbo, you speak too learnedly
for me to understand the drift of your mind, and therefore
tell your tale in plain termes, and leave off your dark
riddles.

Strum.

Alass, Mistresse Dorothy, this is my luck, that
when I most would, I cannot be understood: so that my
great learning is an inconvenience unto me. But to
speak in plain termes, I love you, Mistresse Dorothy, if
you like to accept me into your familiarity.

Dor.

If this be all I am content.

Turning to the people.
Strum.

Say'st thou so, sweet wench, let me lick thy
Toes. Farewell, Mistresse. If any of you be in love,
provide ye a Cap-case full of new coyn'd words, and
then shall you soon have the succado de labres, and something
else.

Exeunt.