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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 4"

[113]
_Lord Av_. How goes the hower?
_Denis_. Tis almost tenn.
_Lord Av_. The tyme of our appointment: you attend
Upon his knocks and give him free admittans;
Beinge entred, refer him into this place;
That doon, returne then to your Ladye's chamber
There locke your self fast in.
_Mayde_. My lorde, I shall.--
Poore fryare, I feare theyl put thee to thy penance
Before they have confest thee.
_Lord Av_. Come, withdrawe;
The watchwoordes not yet given.
_Enter the Fryar with a letter_.
_Fr. Jhon_. 'Tis her owne pen, I knwe it, synce shee sett
Her hand to establishe our foundation,
And, sweete soule, shee hath writt a second tyme
To build mee upp anewe:--_My Lord is ridd
A three dayes jorney, loose not this advantadge
But take tyme by the fore-topp_. Yes I will
By the fore-topp and topp-gallant. _At the posterne
Shee to whose hand you gave your letter, Fryar,
Attends for your despatch_:--my busines
I hope shalbee despatcht then:--_Fare you well,
Fayle mee this night and ever_. I'l sooner forfett
All pleasures, hopes, preferments, with th'assurance
Of a longe lyfe blest with most happy howers,
Then this one night's contentment.


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