A proper fellow-page of yours called Jack Wilton by me commends
him unto you,　and hath bequeathed for waste-paper here amongst you
certain pages of his　misfortunes. In any case, keep them preciously as
a privy token of his goodwill towards　you. If there be some better than
other, he craves you would honour them in their death　so much as to
dry and kindle tobacco with them; for a need he permits you to wrap
velvet　pantofles in them also, so they be not woe-begone at the heels,
or weather-beaten, like a　black head with grey hairs, or mangy at the
toes, like an ape about the mouth. But as you love good-fellowship and
ambs-ace, rather turn them to stop mustard-pots than the grocers should
have one patch of them to wrap mace in; a strong, hot, costly spice it is,
which above all things he hates. To any use about meat and drink put
them to and spare not, for they cannot do their country better service.
Printers are mad whoresons; allow them some of them for napkins.