PREFACE
Come thee listener listen to my reed my voice that doth sing to thee of some shes I paint for thee pictures that gives the world some beauty thru some vain conceits that may seem strange or perhaps just my minds deceit to give thee pleasure or perhaps some woe at what I show thru reason thy passions may grow or thru thy passions reason may But go Yet my words carve inst marble the temper of my mind that inst this world I doest finde that ones fancy onst some she may But illusions be projected fromst thy Id to make thee blind at what that she may really be good or bad or perhaps like me to send thee mad