To Her Grace, the duchess of Richmond and Lenox.

Madam,

It is an unquestioned privilege we authors have of troubling whomsoever we please with an Epistle Dedicatory, as we call it, when we print a play. Kings and princes have never been able to exempt either themselves or their favourites from our persecution. I think your Grace (for a person of so great eminence, beauty, indulgence to wit and other advantages that mark you out to suffer under addresses of this nature) has escaped very well hitherto. For I do not remember your name yet made a sanctuary to any of these criminals. But, Madam, your time is come and you must bear it patiently. All the favour I can show you, is that of a good executioner, which is not to prolong your pain. You see, Madam, here the unhappiness of being born in our time, in which to that virtue and perfection, the Greeks and Romans would have given temples, the highest thing we dare dedicate, is a play or some such Trisle. This that I now offer to your Grace, you were so kind to when it was in loose sheets, that by degrees you have trained it up to the confidence of appearing in print before you. And I hope you will find it no hard matter to pardon a presumption you have yourself been accessory to, especially in one that is entirely,

Madam,

Your Grace’s devoted and obedient servant,

Charles Sedley.