ses.
Amarillis.

Scene: Thessaly.

The following Dedicatory Verses were omitted from the Second Folio.

_To my lov'd friend M. John Fletcher, on his Pastorall_.

Can my approovement (Sir) be worth your thankes?
Whose unkn[o]wne name and muse (in swathing clowtes)
Is not yet growne to strength, among these rankes
To have a roome and beare off the sharpe flowtes
Of this our pregnant age, that does despise
All innocent verse, that lets alone her vice.

But I must Justifie what privately,
I censurd to you: my ambition is
(Even by my hopes and love to Poesie)
To live to perfect such a worke, as this,
Clad in such elegant proprietie
Of words, including a mortallitie.

So sweete and profitable, though each man that heares,
(And learning has enough to clap and hisse)
Arives not too't, so misty it appeares;
And to their fi1med reasons, so amisse:
But let Art looke in truth, she like a mirror,
Reflects [Reflect, C, D] her comfort [consort, D--F], ignorances terror.

Sits in her owne brow, being made afraid,
Of her unnaturall complexion,
As ougly women (when they are araid
By glasses) loath their true reflection,
Then how can such opinions injure thee,
That tremble, at their owne deformitie?

Opinion, that great foole, makes fooles of all,
And (once) I feard her till I met a minde
Whose grave instructions philosophical),
Toss'd it [is, F] like dust upon a march strong winde,
He shall for ever my example be,
And his embraced doctrine grow in me.

His soule (and such commend this) that commaund [commands, D, E, F]
Such art, it should me better satisfie,
Then if the monster clapt his thousand hands,
And drownd the sceane with his confused cry;
And if doubts rise, loe their owne names to cleare 'em
Whilst I am happy but to stand so neere 'em.

N. F.

These verses are in A, B, C, D, E and F. In A and B they are signed 'N.
F.,' in C-F they are signed 'Nath. Field.' The above text is that of A.

To his loving friend M. _Jo. Fletcher_
concerning his Pastorall, being
both a Poeme and a play:
[concerning...play _omitted in_ D, E, F]

There are no suerties (good friend) will be taken
For workes that vulgar-good-name hath forsaken:
A Poeme and a play too! why tis like
A scholler that's a Poet: their names strike
Their pestilence inward, when they take the aire;
And kill out right: one cannot both fates beare.
But, as a Poet thats no scholler, makes
Vulgarity his whiffler, and so takes
with ease, & state