ABSTRACT

Doll, I charge thee by the laue of our youth, & by my soules rest, that thou wilte see this man paide: for ifhee, and his wife had not succoured me, I had died in the streetes.

Robert Greene.

Here lies the man, whome mistrisse Isam crown' d with bayes; Shee, sl1ee, that ioyde to l1eare, her Nightingales sweete layes.