The womanne and the beast - the poste-office clerke - Nashes returne in misery

I telle you, it has been a murie day in my hede. Twice have I ensconced a lady, and in furtherance of her have squandered sixteen pounds on a donkey on which to place her. She lookes magnificent astride't. I sit atyping clad in veal-meat and bandages after this morning there befell me a most horrid incident that I shall forthwith relate unto you.

I had my handes open to recyve into them a packet of no small importt, it being the birtheday of my aunte in 1596, and I was standing crookedly at the bar of a post-office. I was sendynge her a Frenche litre of scotche, for my aunte is a heroine amongst the squalid of her borough through her abilities of swilling away pintes by pintes of the stuffe. Then, counfounde it, the clerke saw my handes were sullied with inke, and suspected me of my intencioun.

-You are sendinge Inke into Hakneye? (cunnynglye, I had labeled the packet 'Inke' with my broadest quill)
-Ay. There is a shortage.
-Of Inke?
-Ay. Now poste it, confounde you.
-I cannot post inke.
-Nor can I hear the wimpish maunderings of milk-bred intellect. Post the Inke or I shalle poste you.
-I cannot, it is clearly to spille in the poste-man's sacke.

I knew the packet did not containe Inke, for I had pack'd it earlier with Scotch. But I could not let on. If he were to open the packet it should spille oute.

-If you do not poste that Inke I shall stab thee, I menaced.
-Pshaw! replied he. There is a Glasse Wall between us.

I destroyed the Glasse Walle with my hede, and stuff'd the whole sorry combobulation, clerk, Inke and all, into the poste-boxe.

I awoke at my terminalle wrappd, as I saye, in veale-mete and blake bandages. My lady is still astride the donkey i'th corner of the roome. Perhaps she and I may have ourselves a little chattere over a cupp of hot milke.