CHAPTER NINETEEN.
HOW I WAS CONCERNED IN TREASON AND LOVE.
The first words of the letter left me in no doubt as to who the writer might be.
"To a certain Hollander, once my servant, and honoured still to live in my memory.

Know, my son of Neptune, fledgeling of the Nymphs, and half- brother to the Tritons, that he whom thou knewest once in Parnassus' grove (whither he himself led thy halting feet), respireth still in sighs for beauty and exhalations of sweet verse.

Know, too, that he hath of late composed a notable and admirable epic in praise of the Sun, which, if it please Heaven to bring him, ere the year fall, to London, thou mayest have the high honour of setting in print, thereby assisting at the birth of an immortal.
"Know further, that after many bufferings from the jade Fortune, and tossing, such as ships ne'er endured on thy brawling element, my Hollander, I am here in Chester, beloved of the Muse, yet ill-beholden to the men of the place, who, as the Mantuans their Maro, clapped me in ward because forsooth I stirred the rabble with my moving measures.

The moon hath not kissed the golden locks of Galatea four times since I was let out.

Now is no zephyr freer than I--or emptier.