 | The Play of Patient Grissell |  |
The Preface.
If case by Poets skill, or Pallas prudent aydHistorians oft in Hystories, their hole delightes haue staid
To pen & paynt forth painfully, the modest liues of those,
That do in Uertues Scoole their hoap, and confidence repose:
Then wandringe in the Forrestes wyde, wher fragrant flowers grow
I meane in searching Histories, wherin doth wisdom flow.
Our Auctor found out one, wherin he tooke delight,
And moued therto by his frend, gaue franke consent to wright:
So simplye as hee coulde, though wantyng hawtie skill,
In that from Helicons fayre spring, the Muses him exile:
Ne would Kay Citheria seeme, Dame Clio to permit,
To garnish him with Rethoricque, the Gods did frowne at it:
So peuish Pan possessed him, whose rusticke Pipes did carpe,
Whose concordes were far dissonant, to sweete Appollois Harpe:
Yet beare with him, and vs also, wee homblye you desyre,
Let Grissills Pacience swaye in you, wee do you all require,
Whose Historye wee vnto you, in humble wise present,
Beseechyng God, wee alwayes maye in trouble bee content:
And learne with hir in weale and woe, the Lord our God to praise,
My time is past, my charge is done, I needs must go my wayes.
Finys.
| The Play of Patient Grissell | |