"'Dear Heart,
I send you these few lines, poor though they be, for since they were inspired by my great love for thee, that of itself, methinks, should make them more worthy,
Thine, as ever,
Horatio.'"
"You mark that?" cries Jack, excitedly, "'hers as ever,' and 'Horatio!' Horatio—faugh! I could ha' taken it kinder had he called himself Tom, or Will, or George, but 'Horatio'—oh, damme! And now comes the poetry-stuff."
Hereupon Bentley hummed and ha'd, and clearing his throat, read this:
"'When drowsy night with sombre wings
O'er this world his shadow flings
And thou, dear love, doth sleep,
Then do I send my soul to thee