ABSTRACT
The muses forbid, that I should restrayne your medling, whom I see already busie with the Title, and tricking over the leaves: It is your owne. I departed with my right, when I let it first abroad. And, now, so secure an Interpreter I am of my chance, that neither praise, nor dispraise from you can affect mee. Though you commend the first two Actes, with the people, because they are the worst; and dislike the Oration of Cicero, in regard you read some pieces of it, at Schoole, and understand them not yet; I shall finde the way to forgive you. Be anything you will be, at your owne charge. Would I had deserv’d but halfe so well of it in translation, as that ought to deserve of you in judgment, if you have any. I know you will pretend (whosoever you are) to have that, and more. But all pretences are not just claymes. The commendation of good things may fall within a many, their approbation but in a few: for the most commend out of affection, selfe tickling, an easinesse, or imitation: but men judge only out of knowledge. That is the trying faculty. And, to those workes that will beare a Judge, nothing is more dangerous then a foolish prayse. You will say I shall not have yours, therfore; but
Beginne.
