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To the Reader.
I Knowe not how I may againe adventure an Epistle to the reader, so are these times, or readers in these times, most part sicke of the sul∣lens, and peeuish in their sicknes, and conceited in their peeuishnes. So should I feare the fire, that haue felt the flame so lately, and flie from the sea, that haue yet a vow to pay for escaping my last ship∣wracke. Then what will the world say for ventring againe? A suo danno, will one say. Et a torto si lamenta del mare, chi due volte ci vuol tornare, will another say. Good counsell indeede, but who followeth it? Doe we not daily see the contrarie in practise? Who loues to be more on the sea, then they that haue bin most on it? Whither for change if they haue kept at a stay: or for amends if they haue lost: or for increase if they haue gotten. Of these there are ynow, and wise-ynough to excuse me. Therefore I haue put forward at auenture: But before I recount vnto thee (gentle reader) the purpose of my new voyage: giue me leaue a little to please my selfe, and refresh thee with the discourse of my olde danger. Which because in some respect it is a common danger, the discouerie thereof may happily profit other men, as much as please my selfe. And here might I begin with those notable Pirates in this our paper-sea, those sea-dogs, or lande-Critikes, monsters of men, if not beastes rather then men; whose teeth are Canibals, their toongs adder-forkes, their lips aspes-poyson, their eies basiliskes, their breath the breath of a graue, their wordes like swordes of Turkes, that striue which shall diue deepest into a Christian lying bound before them. But for these barking and biting dogs, they are as well knowne as Scylla and Charybdis.
There is another sort of leering curs, that rather snarle then bite, whereof I coulde instance in one, who lighting vpon a good sonnet of a gentlemans, a friend of mine, that loued better to be a Poet, then to be counted so, called the auctor a rymer, notwithstanding he had more skill in good Poetrie, then my slie gentleman seemed to haue in good manners or humanitie. But my quarrell is to a tooth-lesse dog, that hateth where he cannot hurt, and would faine bite, when he hath no teeth. His name is H. S. Doe not take it for the Romane H S. for he is not of so much worth, vnlesse it be as H S is twice as much and a halfe as halfe an As. But value him how you will, I am sure he highly valueth himselfe. This fellow, this H. S. reading (for I would you should knowe he is a reader and a writer too) vnder my last epistle to the reader I. F. made as familiar a word of F. as if I had bin his brother. Now Recte sit oculis magister tuis, said an ancient writer to a much-like reading grāmarian∣pedante: God saue your eie-sight, sir, or at least your in-sight. And might not a man, that can do as much as you (that is, reade) finde as much matter out of H. S. as you did out of I. F? As for example H. S. why may it not stand as well for Haeres Stultitiae, as for Homo Sim∣plex? or for Hara Suillina, as for Hostis Studiosorum? or for Hircus Satiricus, as well as for any of them? And this in Latine, besides Hedera Seguace, Harpia Subata, Humore Superbo, Hipocrito Simulatore in Italian. And in English world without end. Huffe Snuffe, Horse Stealer, Hob Sowter, Hugh Sot, Humfrey Swineshead, Hodge Sowgelder. Now Master H. S. if this doe gaule you, forbeare kicking hereafter, and in the meane time you may make you a plaister of your dride Marioram. I haue seene in my daies an inscription, harder to finde out the meaning, and yet easier for a man to picke a better