[1] _MY verie good Lord, there haue beene diuerse of late, that with no small toile, and great commendation, haue throughlie imploied themselues, in culling and packing togi|ther the scrapings and fragments of the historie of Ireland. A|mong which crue, my fast friend, and inward companion, maister Edmund Campion did so learnedlie bequite himselfe, in the penning of certeine breefe notes, concerning that coun|trie, as certes it was greatlie to be lamented, that either his theame had not beene shorter, or else his leasure had not beene longer. For if Alexander were so rauisht with Homer his historie, that notwithstanding Thersites were a crabbed and a rugged dwarfe, being in outward feature so deformed, and in inward conditions so crooked, as he seemed to stand to no better steed, than to lead apes in hell: yet the vali|ant capteine, weighing how liuelie the golden poet hath set forth the ouglie dandeprat in his colours, did sooner wish to be Homer his Thersites, than to be the Alex|ander of that doltish rithmour, which vndertooke with his woodden verses to blase his famous and mar|tiall exploits: how much more ought Ireland (being in sundrie ages seized of diuerse good and couragi|ous Alexanders) sore to long and thirst after so rare a clarke, as maister Campion, who was so vpright in conscience, so deepe in iudgement, so ripe in eloquence, as the countrie might haue beene well assu|red to haue had their historie trulie reported, pithilie handled, and brauelie polished.