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shew how ready hee is and alwayes hath bin, to sacrifice his dearest blood, as becometh a loyall subject, for the honor of his native Country. Being

your honors humble vassaile

Thomas Morton.

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The Epistle to the Reader. GENTLE READER,

I Present to the publike view an abstract of new England; which I have undertaken to compose by the incouragement of such genious spirits as have been studious of the inlargment of his Majesties Territories, being not formerly satisfied, by the relations of such as through haste, have taken but a superficiall survey thereof, which thing time hath enabled mee to performe more punctually to the life, and to give a more exact accompt of what hath been required; I have therefore beene willing to doe my indevoure to communicat the knowledge, which I have gained and collected together, by mine owne observation, in the time of my many yeares residence in those parts, to my loving Country men: For the better information of all such as are desirous to be made partakers of the blessings of God in that fertile Soyle, as well as those that, out of Curiosity onely have bin inquisitive after novelties. And the rather for that I have observed, how divers persons (not so well affected to the weale publike in mine opinion) out of respect to their owne private ends; have laboured to keepe both the practise of the people there, and the lieall worth of that eminent Country concealed

from publike knowledge, both which I have abundantly in this discourse layd open, yet if it be well accepted, I shall esteeme my selfe sufficiently rewardded for my undertaking, and rest.

Your Welltvisher.

Thomas Morton.

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In laudem Authoris.

T' Excuse the Author ere the worke be shewrie
Is accusation in it selfe alone,
And to commend him might seeme oversight,
So divers are th' opinions of this age,
So quick and apt, to taxe the moderne stage,
That hard his taske, is that must please in all
Example have wee from great Caesars fall,
But is the sonne to be dislik'd and blam'd,
Because the mole is of his face asham'd,
The fault is in the beast not in the sonne
Give sicke mouthes sweete meates fy they relish none,
But to the sound in censure he commends,
His love unto his Country his true ends,
To modell out a Land of so much worth,
As untill now noe traveller seth forth,
Faire Canaans second selfe, second to none,
Natures rich Magazine till now unknowne,
Then here survay, what nature hath in store,
And graunt him love for this, he craves no more.

R. O. Gen.

Sir Christoffer Gardiner, Knight.
In laudem Authoris.

THis worke a matchles mirror is that shewes,
The Humors of the seperatiste, and those
So truely personated by thy pen,
1 was amaz'd to see't, herein all men,
May plainly see as in an inter-lude,
Each actor, figure and the sccene weV view'd,
In Connick Tragick and in a pastorall stifex
For tyth of muit and Cummin shewes^ their Kfe,
Nothing but opposition, gainst the right,
Of sacred Majestie men, full of spight,
Goodnes abuseing, turning vertue out
Of Dores, to whipping stocking and full bent,
To plotting mischeife, gainst the innocent,
Burning their houses, as if ordained by fate,
In spight of Lawe, to be made ruinate,
This taske is well performed and patience be,
Thy present comfort and thy constancy,
Thine honor, and this glasse where it shall Come,
Shall sing thy praises fill the day of (home.

Sir. G. C.

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