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SIr, if I could euer see yo••, but in a Letter, I should delight much in your presence, but contraries are not correspondēt: a gr••y b••ad and a greene minde fit not, your perswasions were forcible, were not your selfe of too much weaknesse▪ but, though for your good will. I thank you, yet for nothing will I be indebted to you: not for a world would I be troubled with you: for, as your yeeres, so I feare our fancies will be different: and then patience mouing, choller may breed discontentment: when to be an old mans d••rling is a kind of curse to nature: you say wel, who can loue, that knowes not howe to like? and the se••ces vncapable of their comfort, what is imagination but a dreame? a blind man can iudge no colours, a deafe man hath no skill in musique, a dumb man no eloquence, and an old man little feeling in loues passion•• for my sutors they sute my time, and serue their owne, and for their worth. I shal iudge of the most worthy: nowe for their wittes, if they lose not their own fleeces, let them gather wool where they can, but for your loue, I will not venture on it, least beeing too old, it be not sweet, and for my yoūg sutors, I hope I shal take heed of shadowed soure∣nesse: and for fortune, while vertue gouernes affection, I will not feare my felicitie: so hoping your own reason wil perswade you to haue patience with your passion, and leaue mee to my better comfort: meaning to be as you wish me, my selfe: & none other: I rest,
Not yours, if mine owne. P. M.