 | Chrestoleros |  |
Epigr. 3. Ad Lectorem.
Reader my booke flies low, and comes not neere,The higher world, and the celestiall spheare.
Yet not so low, but that it doth despise
The earthes round lumpe, and farre aboue it flies.
This is the middle labour of my pen,
To drawe thee forth (Reader) a mappe of men.
| Chrestoleros | |