There I leave you, where you shall ever find me!
Passionate Daiphantus, your loving subject, Gives you to understand, he is a Man in Print, and it is enough he hath undergone a Pressing, though for your sakes and for Ladies: protesting for this poor infant of his brain, as it was the price of his virginity, born into the world with tears: so (but for a many his dear friends that took much pains for it) it had died, and never been laughed at! and that if Truth have wrote less than Fiction; yet it is better to err in Knowledge than in Judgement! Also, if he have caught up half a line of any other's, it was out of his memory, not of any ignorance!
Why he dedicates it to All, and not to any Particular, as his Mistress or so? His answer is, He is better born, than to creep into women's favours, and ask their leave afterwards.
Also he desireth you to help to correct such errors of the Printer, which (because the Author is dead, or was out of the City) hath been committed. And it was his folly, or the Stationer's, you had not an Epistle to the purpose.
Thus like a lover, wooes he for your favour;
Which, if you grant, then Omnia vincit Amor.
