When first I sawe thee (Though but with a meare cursorye aspecte)

But understand mee: Itt is meare pitty and no bad intent, No unchast thought but my meare charity In the remembrans of our longe lost child, To showe som love to these distressed maydens.

No meanes unlesse we leape downe from the rockes, And that's meare desperation.

That which I took to bee meare fantasy I finde nowe to bee real; murder is A cryinge sinne, and canot be conceal'd.

And were the way to my successyon free As when I lefte the courte, yet gaynst all sence And possybyllitie somethynge suer woulde sprynge From my meare fate to make another kynge: So, torrent-like, my fortune ruynes all My rights of byrthe and nature.

The teams left on Friday afternoon, Czigane included; to-day Meares telephones that he is setting out for his second journey to Corner Camp without him.

I see hee that nought venters nothinge gaynes; Hee that will bee awake when others sleepe May sometymes purchase what may give him rest, When other loyterers shalbe forct to ryse Or perish through meare want; as, for example, Although the tempest frighted hence the fishe, I have drag'd some thinge without finne or skale May make mee a good markett.