Courteous Reader,—I here present unto thee no strange or forreign news, no imagination, or vain conceit of poetical fiction; neither do I tell thee of Gallagantua or of the Red Rose Knight, nor such like stories; but I here offer to thy view a true pattern of humility; being the glory of our Kingdom, and raised to Honour by desert; the title tells you that it is the life and death of Richard Whittington, who for his clemency and understanding was three times chosen Lord Mayor of the Honourable City of London, who always acknowledged his beginning to be of mean and low rank; yet he was beloved of the King for his fidelity and trust, as may appear in larger volumes, and the entertainment that he gave at his own house to his Soveraign at several times: his bounty upon all occasions, when the King wanted his purse; his love to the City and Commons; which are not to be buried in oblivion, but rather to be proclaimed as living monuments to all people of what condition soever, to animate them never to be dejected though never so poor, as the story will more at large declare; all which happened in the days of our forefathers, and very probable it may be for us to believe; if we will not give credit to former historians who will give the like to us in future ages: read it through, and you will find something worthy of note, and thou shall do thy self some pleasure and me a high favour. Vale.