These lines are in A, C, D, E and F. The text is that of A.
To that noble and true lover of learning, Sir Walter Aston Knight of the Balls.
Sir I must aske your patience, and be trew.
This play was never liked, unlesse by few
That brought their judgements with um, for of late
First the infection, then the common prate
Of common people, have such customes got
Either to silence plaies, or like them not.
Under the last of which this interlude,
Had falne for ever prest downe by the rude
That like a torrent which the moist south feedes,
Drowne's both before him the ripe corne and weedes.
Had not the saving sence of better men
Redeem'd it from corruption: (deere Sir then)
Among the better soules, be you the best
In whome, as in a Center I take rest,
And propper being: from whose equall eye
And judgement, nothing growes but puritie:
(Nor do I flatter) for by all those dead,
Great in the muses, by Apolloes head,
He that ads any thing to you; tis done
Like his that lights a candle to the sunne:
Then be as you were ever, your selfe still
Moved by your judement, not by love, or will
And when I sing againe as who can tell
My next devotion to that holy well,
Your goodnesse to the muses shall be all,
Able to make a worke Heroyicall.
Given to your service John Fletcher.
These lines are in A and B.
To the inheritour of all worthines, Sir William Scipwith. Ode.
If from servile hope or love,
I may prove
But so happy to be thought for
Such a one whose greatest ease
Is to please
(Worthy sir) I have all I sought for,
For no ich of greater name,
which some clame
By their verses do I show it
To the world; nor to protest
Tis the best
These are leane faults in a poet
Nor to make it serve to feed at my neede Nor to gaine acquaintance by it Nor to ravish kinde Atturnies, in their journies. Nor to read it after diet
Farre from me are all these Ames
Fittest frames
To build weakenesse on and pitty
Onely to your selfe, and such
whose true touch
Makes all good; let me seeme witty.