Your Lordships poore kinsman,
Richard Carew of
Antonie.
To the Reader.
When I first composed this Treatise, not minding that it should be published in Print, I caused onely certaine written copies to bee giuen to some of my friends, and put Prosopopeia into the bookes mouth. But since that time, master Camdens often-mencioning this worke, and my friends perswasions, haue caused my determination to alter, & to imbrace a pleasing hope, that charitie, & good construction resteth now generally in all Readers. Albeit, I well know, how Opere in vario, no lesse then in longo, fas est obrepere somnum. And I acknowledge, this playing work to come so farr short, of satisfying, euen myselfe (though Suus cuiq; placet partus) as I haue little reason, to expect the applause of any other.
Besides the state of our Countrie hath vndergone so manie Alterations, since I first began these scriblings, that,in the reuiewing, I was driuen, either likewise to varie my report, or else to speake against my knowledge. And no maruaile, for each succeeding time, addeth, or raueth, goods, & euils, according to the occasions, which it selfe produceth : rather a wonder it were, that in the ceaselesse reuolution of the Vniuerse, any parcell should retaine a stedfast constitution. Reckon therefore (I pray you) that this treatise plotteth downe Cornwall, as it now standeth, for the particulars, and will continue, for the generall. Mine Eulogies proceede no lesse, from the sinceritie of a witnesse, then the affection of a friend: and therefore I hope, that where my tongue hath beene good, no mans eye will bee euill: and that each wel-minded Reader will wish a merrie passage, to this my rather fancie-sporting, then gaine-fseeking voyage. Farewell.
[1]
The Prosopopeia to the Booke.
I Crave not courteous ayd of friends,
To blaze my praise in verse,
Nor, prowd of vaunt, mine authors names,
In catalogue rehearse:
I of no willing wrong complaine,
Which force or stealth hath wrought,
No fruit I promise from the tree,
Which forth this blooth hath brought.
I curry not with smoothing termes,
Ne yet rude threats I blaste:
I seeke no patrone for my faults,
I pleade no needlesse haste.