To my dear sister, Mrs. Stanhope Hutchinson.

Dear sister,

Had I not when I first undertook this poem promised myself a better success from the attempt, then I find upon a review of it now it is done, it had never been designed for you, who deserve much better than the best endeavour of a more happy translator than I pretend to be. But if I had before too good an opinion of myself, I do yet retain such a respect for you, as would defend your name from so mean a dedication as this; did I not find myself obliged by a vain and imprudent promise to present you what I might have foreseen would at the best prove very unfit to kiss your hands, whoever entertain yourself with the best things and in that discover the best judgment to choose them. However, seeing I have made you a promise of this play, that I want the art or the patience to mend it and that you are only to suffer a private injury, since it is never to be made public, let me beg of you to accept it, with the same sweetness you usually entertain the applications of other your friends and servants, who admire and love you, by which acceptance (besides the honour and obligation you will multiply upon me) you will do a great justice to yourself, in being favourable to a man, that (if he could write equal to the best) would lay his labours at your feet with the same humility and affection, that he now subscribes himself,

Dear sister,

Your most obedient and most humble servant,

Charles Cotton.

Beresford, Nov. 7. 1665.