TO ALL READERS.

Regina Grande, e fíglia di grán Régi, E suóra di Rè grándi, e al Gran Re spósa, E Madre sópra tútte Gloriósa Di Re futúri in ógni etáde egrégi. Ecco a tánte Coróne, a tánti prégi, Di quánti mái se n' gío Dónna pompósa Giúngi beltáde Augústa, e luminósa Di túo próprio valór Te ségni e frégi Te il móndo inchína; Te l'Itália cóle, Ch'il sermón nóstro di túa grátia honóri, E sì dólce lo párli, e dólce scríui. ANNA REGINA, víui al móndo, víui All'Itália deuóta, e nuóui albóri Dall'occáso a nói spléndi vn nuóuo sóle. Humilíssimo seruitóre Alberico Gentili.

I am, all that I am, Florio, thy debter: Many men owe thee more. yet thou of all Oblig'd to thee in deepe affections fetter, Doest for this testimoniall tribute call But to three more; who haue discharg'd it better: I say but this (but this is too-too small) Great is thy Masters-prize, thy Mistris greater, At whose foot praises, phrases, poem's fall. Th' analogie is short. She is of worth A wondrous Anacephalaiosis; A None-pareil, sans parallel: set forth To shew perfections Abstract. So is this. Italian honor's hir, Italian She. That language thou adorn'st, that language thee. Il Cándido.

Come i grán fátti di quéi gránd'Herói Achille, Vlísse, e 'l più famós' Ænea, Il gránd'Homero, e 'l grán Máro ascriuéa Alle lór Protettríci e Númi suói: Cosi ciòche tù sái, che fái, che puói, Di sénno o seruitù all'Archi Dea Che ti détta, díta, dóta, nútre e bea Ascríui Flório; chè bén scríui pói. Incomíncin da lei gl'Annái lór lódi, In lei finíscano: da lei Grandézza Scend'a' Británni, póich'élla è Británna. Di quésta sómma ti contenti e gódi: Sómma di Sénno, Amór, Virtù e chiarézza, E d'Inghilterra Imperatríce ANNA. Il Cándido.

I stand not to giue praise before the face Of this great worke, that doth it selfe commend: But to congratulate the good and grace That England com's thereby to apprehend: And in hir name to thanke your industry Laborius Flório, who haue so much wrought To honour hir in bringing Italy To speake hir language, and to giue hir note Of all the treasure that rich tongue containes: Wherein I cannot but admire your paines In gathering vp this vniuersall store, And furniture of words for euery arte, And skill of man: So that there seem's no more Beyond this search, that knowledge can impart. Which being a worke that would take vp the powers Of more then one whole man, I wonder how You could substract so many serious howres From that great summe of seruice that you owe. But that it seemes the beaming Gracefulnesse That lightens from the most refulgent QVEENE Our sacred Mistris, work's that ablenesse As mak's you more, then els you could haue beene. Wherein the power of Princes well is seene That can infuse such force, and make age greene. And it were well, if in this season, when They leaue erecting Churches, Colledges, And pious monuments, they would build men Who of their glory may be witnesses, And what they doe be theirs: As Mazons raise Work's not for them, but for their masters praise. For, would they but be ples'd to know, how small A portion of that ouer-flowing waste Which run's from them, would turne the wheeles and all The frame of wit, to make their glory last: I thinke they would doe something: but the stirre Still about greatnesse, giues it not the space To looke out from it selfe, or to conferre. Grace but by chance, and as men are in place. But that concern's not me, It is ynow I doe applaud your worke. Thus from my Plow. Samuel Daniel.

Kinde friend, the strictnesse of these few-few lines Can not expresse thy worth, nor my goodwill: As for thy worke, I leaue it to the skill, And sharpest censure of the best engyn's. Nor can thy choise be better'd, who propynes Th' industrious labor's of thy painefull quill To one who is, and was, and shalbe still That Phœbe, who in fulnesse euer shin's. She shalbe great Protectrice of thy paines, And she will weigh this worke at no small rate; I know hir high Heroike heart disdain's To show it selfe forgetfull or ingrate: Els she should wrong that race from whence she spring's B'ing Daughter, Sister, Mother, wife to Kings. ^* _* ^*

Flore, per Hetruscos volitas apis Itala campos, Inq; tuum condis roscida mella fauum. Flore tuis Anglis, velut Ori Fons Alieno, Ausonias venâ perpete sundis opes. Anglia sic per te gemino decoratur honore, Flore tuo compta est, arida rore madet.

Florio, thou doest deserue a world of flowers, No garden can supply thy store of merit; A garland made out of Parnassus bowers Must girt thy temples and adorne thy spirit. Thy Former World, built vp thy Fames high-towers, Whereby eternall praise thou doest inherit; But this New World, giuen thee by sacred powers Doeth to a neuer falling height now reare it. What Name, but from the Font of Maiesty Could haue bin giuen vnto so rare a child? It's fit, whose Sire liues in the Princes eye, He, should to all hir subiects passe, so stil'd. The QVEEN his praises mak's hirs; hirs his are; For she with him, and he with hir doeth share. I. Thorys.

Florio, eres fruto, y no flor, Pues nos tanto aprouechays, Y al mundo dos mundosdays. Otro. Hijo dichoso! pues tiene Varon muy cuerdo por padre, Y la Reyna por commadre. Otro. Flores, muy bien floresceys, Pues descienden en su arbol Rayos de tan claro Sol. I. Thorys.