Classic Poem

[Enter Strumbo above in a gown, with ink and paper
in his hand, saying:--]

STRUMBO.
Either the four elements, the seven planets, and all the
particular stars of the pole Antastick, are adversative
against me, or else I was begotten and born in the wane
of the Moon, when every thing as Lactantius in his
fourth book of Consultations doth say, goeth asward.
Aye, masters, aye, you may laugh, but I must weep;
you may joy, but I must sorrow; shedding salt tears
from the watery fountains of my most dainty fair eyes,
along my comely and smooth cheeks, in as great plenty
as the water runneth from the buckingtubs, 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
desparate god Cuprit, with one of his vengible birdbolts,
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 Ass Tom? Yea, with these eyes thou hast
seen her, and therefore pull them out, for they will work
thy bale. Ah, Strumbo, hast thou heard? not the voice
of the Nightingale, but a voice sweeter than hers. Yea,
with these ears hast thou heard it, and therefore cut them
off, for they have caused 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 eloquent 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, mistress Dorothy, 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. Alas, I
am a gentleman of good fame and name, majestical, in
parrel 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! Oh pate! O memory! O hand! O ink! O paper!
Well, now I will send it away. Trompart, Trompart! what a
villain is this? Why, sirra, come when your master calls
you. Trompart!

[Trompart, entering, saith:]

TROMPART.
Anon, sir.

STRUMBO.
Thou knowest, my pretty boy, what a good mast I have been
to thee ever since I took thee into my service.

TROMPART.
Aye, sir.

STRUMBO.
And how I have cherished thee always, as if you had been
the fruit of my loins, flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone.

TROMPART.
Aye, sir.

STRUMBO.
Then show thy self herein a trusty servant, and carry this
letter to mistress Dorothy, and tell her--

[Speaking in his ear. Exit Trompart.]

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.]

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

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

For your love doth lie,
As near and as nigh
Unto my heart within,
As mine eye to my nose,
My leg unto my hose,
And my flesh unto my skin.

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

STRUMBO.
Alas, mistress 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 terms,
I love you, mistress Dorothy, if you like to accept me into
your familiarity.

DOROTHY.
If this be all, I am content.

STRUMBO.
Sayest thou so, sweet wench; let me lick thy toes. Farewell,
mistress.

[Turning to the people.]

If any of you be in love, provide ye a capcase full of new
coined words, and then shall you soon have the succado
de labres, and something else.

[Exeunt.]