If the pity of a 'prentice can reach from you to Chester, lend it me, I pray you, as I sit here gazing into the empyrean for my next meal.

If I may, I shall shorten the space betwixt us.

Meanwhile, count for thyself a lodging in at least one poetic breast, which is that of thy patron and friend, Thomas Graves.
"_Post Scriptum_: I have overtook my messenger--a poor country carrier-- to tell thee strange news.

This Ludar hath returned suddenly from his journey in the custody of a troop.

I saw him marched through the streets but just now, amid cries of 'Treason!' 'Away with him!' 'Hang him!' sad to hear.