This handful of leaves I offer to your view, to the leaves on trees I
compare, which as they cannot grow of themselves except they have
some branches or boughs to cleave to, and with whose juice and sap
they be evermore recreated and nourished, so except these unpolished
leaves of mine have some branch of nobility whereon to depend and
cleave, and with the vigorous nutriment of whose authorized commendation
they may be continually fostered and refreshed, never will they grow to
the world’s good liking, but forthwith fade and die on the first hour of
their birth. Your Lordship is the large spreading branch of renown from
whence these my idle leaves seek to derive their whole nourishing; it resteth
you either scornfully shake them off as worm-eaten and worthless, or in pity
preserve them and cherish them for some little summer fruit you hope to find
amongst them.