have been constrained to expose it to the general view. Which seeing I have done, some things I desire thee to take notice of. First, that I am he, who, to pleasure my friend, have framed myself a content out of that which would otherwise discontent

me.

Secondly, that I have coveted more to effect what I think truly honest in itself, than by a seeming show of art to catch the vain blasts of uncertain opinion. This that I have here written was no part of my study, but only a recreation in imprisonment and a trifle, neither in my conceit fitting, nor by me intended to be made common; yet some, who it should seem esteemed it worthy more respect than I did, took pains to copy it out, unknown to me, and in my absence got it both authorized and prepared for the press; so that if I had not hindered it, last Michaelmas term had been troubled with it. I was much blamed by some friends for withstanding it, to whose request I should more easily have consented, but that I thought, as indeed I yet do, I should thereby more disparage myself than content them. For I doubt I shall be supposed one of those who, out of their arrogant desire of a little preposterous fame, thrust into the world every unseasoned trifle that drops out of their unsettled brains; whose baseness how much I hate, those that know me can witness, for if I were so affected, I might perhaps present the world with as many several poems as I have seen years, and justly make myself appear to be the author of some things that others have shamefully usurped and made use of as their own. But I will be

content other men should own some of those issues of the brain, for I would be loth to confess all that right in that kind call me father. Neither shall any more of them, by my consent, in haste again trouble the world, unless I know which way to benefit it with less prejudice to my own estate. And, therefore, if any of those less serious poems which are already dispersed into my friends' hands, come amongst you, let not their publication be imputed to me, nor their lightness be any disparagement to what hath been since more serious written, seeing it is but such stuff as riper judgments have in their far elder years been much more guilty of.

I know an indifferent critic may find many faults, as well in the slightness of this present subject, as in the erring from the true nature of an eclogue; moreover, it altogether concerns myself, which divers may dislike. But neither can be done on just cause: the first hath been answered already; the last might consider that I was there where my own estate was chiefly to be looked unto, and all the comfort I could minister unto myself, little enough.

If any man deem it worthy his reading I shall be glad; if he think his pains ill-bestowed, let him blame himself for meddling with that concerned him not; I neither commended it to him, neither cared whether he read it or no; because I know those that were desirous of it, will esteem the same as much as I expect they should.

But it is not unlikely some will think I have in divers places been more wanton, as they take it, than

befitting a satirist; yet their severity I fear not, because, I am assured, all that I ever yet did was free from obscenity: neither am I so cynical, but that I think a modest expression of such amorous conceits as suit with reason, will yet very well become my years; in which not to have feeling of the power of love, were as great an argument of much stupidity as an over-sottish affection were of extreme folly. Lastly, if you think it hath not well answered the title of the Shepherd's Hunting, go quarrel with the stationer, who bid himself god-father, and imposed the name according to his own liking; and if you, or he, find any faults, pray mend them.

Valete.