To Her Royal Highness, the duchess.

Madam,

After having a great while wish to write something that might be worthy to lay at Your Highness’s feet and finding it impossible, since the world has been so kind to me to judge of this poem to my advantage, as the most pardonable fault which I have made in its kind, I had sinned against myself, if I had not chosen this opportunity to implore (what my ambition is most fond of) your favour and protection.

For though fortune would not so far bless my endeavours as to encourage them with Your Royal Highness’s presence, when this came into the world, yet I cannot but declare it was my design and hopes it might have been your divertissement in that happy season, when you returned again to cheer all those eyes that had before wept for your departure and enliven all hearts that had dropped for your absence. When wit ought to have paid its choicest tributes in and joy have known no limits, then I hoped my little mite would not have been rejected, though my ill fortune was too hard for me and I lost a greater honour, by Your Royal Highness’s absence, than all the applauses of the world besides can make me reparation for.

Nevertheless, I thought myself not quite unhappy, so long as I had hoped this way yet to recompense my disappointment past. When I considered also that poetry might claim right to a little share in your favour, for Tasso and Ariosto, some of the best, have made their names eternal, by transmitting to after-ages the glory of your ancestors. And under the spreading of that shade, where two of the best have planted their laurels, how honoured should I be, who am the worst, if but a branch might grow for me.

I dare not think of offering at anything in this address that might look like a panegyric, for fear lest when I have done my best, the world should condemn me for saying too little and you yourself check me for meddling with a task unfit for my talent.

For the description of virtues and perfections so rare as yours are ought to be done by as deliberate, as skilful a hand; the features must be drawn very fine to be like, hasty daubing would but spoil the picture and make it so unnatural, as must want false lights to set it off.

And your virtue can receive no more lustre from praises than your beauty can be improved by art, which, as it charms the bravest prince that ever amazed the world with his virtue, so let but all other hearts enquire into themselves and then judge how it ought to be praised.

Your love too, as none but that great hero who has it could deserve it and therefore, by a particular lot from heaven, was destined to so extraordinary a blessing, so matchless for itself and so wondrous for its constancy, shall be remembered to your immortal honour, when all other transactions of the age you live in shall be forgotten.

But I forget that I am to ask pardon for the fault I have been all this while committing. Wherefore I beg Your Highness to forgive me this presumption and that you will be pleased to think well of one who cannot help resolving, with all the actions of life, to endeavour to deserve it. Nay more, I would beg and hope it may be granted that I may through yours never want an advocate in his favour whose heart and mind you have so entire a share in; it is my only portion and my fortune; I cannot but be happy so long as I have but hopes I may enjoy it and I must be miserable, should it ever be my ill fate to lose it.

This, with eternal wishes for Your Royal Highness’s content, happiness and prosperity, in all humility is presented by

Your most obedient and devoted servant,

Tho. Otway.