| ||
TO HIS WORTHY
Captaine the Author.
THat which wee call the subject of all Storie,
Is Truth: which in this Worke of thine gives glorie
To all that thou hast done. Then, scorne the spight
Of Envie; which doth no mans merits right.
My sword may helpe the rest: my Pen no more
Can doe, but this; I'ave said enough before.
Is Truth: which in this Worke of thine gives glorie
To all that thou hast done. Then, scorne the spight
Of Envie; which doth no mans merits right.
My sword may helpe the rest: my Pen no more
Can doe, but this; I'ave said enough before.
Your sometime souldier,
J. Codrinton, now Templer.
| ||