TO THE READER.
IF, Reader, thou hast of this play been an auditor, there is less apology to be used by entreating thy patience. This tragi-comedy (being one reserved amongst two hundred and twenty in which I have had either an entire hand, or at the least a main finger) coming accidentally to the press, and I having intelligence thereof, thought it not fit that it should pass as filius populi, a bastard without a father to acknowledge it. True it is, that my plays are not exposed unto the world in volumes, to bear the title of works, (as others); one reason is, that many of them by shifting and change of companies have been negligently lost; others of them are still retained in the hands of some actors, who think it against their peculiar profit to have them come in print; and a third, that it never was any great ambition in me, to be in this kind voluminously read. All that I have further to say at this time is only this: censure[2] I entreat as favourably as it is exposed to thy view freely. Ever
Studious of thy pleasure and profit,
THOMAS HEYWOOD.