Most honourable and bountifull Ladie, there bee long sithens deepe
sowed in my brest the seede of most entire love and humble affection
unto that most brave knight, your noble brother deceased; which, taking
roote, began in his life time somewhat to bud forth, and to shew
themselves to him, as then in the weakenes of their first spring; and
would in their riper strength (had it pleased High God till then to
drawe out his daies) spired forth fruit of more perfection. But since
God hath disdeigned the world of that most noble spirit which was the
hope of all learned men, and the patron of my young Muses, togeather
with him both their hope of anie further fruit was cut off, and also
the tender delight of those their first blossoms nipped and quite dead.
Yet, sithens my late cumming into England, some frends of mine, which
might much prevaile with me, and indeede commaund me, knowing with howe
straight bandes of duetie I was tied to him, as also bound unto that
noble house, of which the chiefs hope then rested in him, have sought
to revive them by upbraiding me, for that I have not shewed anie
thankefull remembrance towards him or any of them, but suffer their
names to sleep in silence and forgetfulnesse. Whome chieflie to
satisfie, or els to avoide that fowle blot of unthankefulnesse, I have
conceived this small Poeme, intituled by a generall name of _The Worlds
Ruines;_ yet speciallie intended to the renowming of that noble race
from which both you and he sprong, and to the eternizing of some of the
chiefe of them late deceased. The which I dedicate unto your La. as
whome it most speciallie concerneth, and to whome I acknowledge my
selfe bounden by manie singular favours and great graces. I pray for
your honourable happinesse, and so humblie kisse your handes.
Your Ladiships ever humblie at commaund,