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A certayne man writeth to a Bokebynder of Paris.
VVOrshipfull Syr, assured I am, that if I should commend me an hun∣dreth thousand times vnto you, yet shold I doe lesse than nothing, if it pleased you not to accompt me for one of those that wish you well, therefore I pray you com∣mend me vnto you: certifying you that synce my departure, I haue written suf∣ficient matter vnto you, according to my rudenesse, whereunto you haue made me no aunswere. Howbeit I maruell not thereat, considering that you haue ben so busyed about the vrgent affaires of the king, that you haue had no leysure to attend thereunto, wherefore you are worthely to be excused. And though it be so that I am transported into a farre cuntry to execute needfull things, yet is it not to be supposed, that true loue shold decay, through the visible seperatiō made betwene two frendes, whereof you are the one and I the other, at the least I am