Dedication, by the composer's father Antonio Falcone:

E pur vero quel detto di Cicerone, che non è al mondo dolor sì grande, che la lunghezza del tempo no’l mitighi, & ammolisca. Io per la morte d’Achille mio figliuolo fui da cosi intenso dolore trafitto, che non credeua già mai scemar si douesse: anzi talmente abortiua di vedere, non che toccate cose sue, per non rinfrescar in me l’ acerba piaga del dolore, c’hò tardato gran tempo ad esseguir quello, che nell’ ultimo della sua vita li promisi di fate, cioè di date in luce la presente sua opera: ma hauendo pur il tempo mitigato alquanto il dolore; vn giorno à caso hauendo aperto vn suo baiullo, (che per infino à quel tempo non s’era mai tocco) oue le sue cose riposte tenea; ricordatorni dell’obligo che mi sourastaua, per la promessa fattali: compositioni, e risposto ad alcune falsità opposteli dal suo competitore ho mandato à farle stampate in Roma doue egl: pensaua andar in persona, per diffinire la sua causa, e chiarir il mondo de’ torti c’ha studiato farli il Raualle in Palermo fauorito colà da tanti suoi partiali, come potrebbe V. Sig. vedere nella nariatione, ch’io so in resposta della sua Apologia, laquale sta attaccata nella parte del Basso. Ma non ho permesso farle vscire in luce senza lo seudo del suo glorioso nome. Sì per essere tanto nostro patrone, come per essere ella, non men di questi bellissima scienza della Musica, che di tutte l’altre arti liberali, intendentissima tenendo per certo douerle apportare, non poca consolatione, il vedere il progresso che alcuni suoi affettionati seruitori in sì giouenil età, han fauo nella Musica. Non ho voluto poi in questa lettera entrare nel pelago delle lodi di V. Sig. e dell’Illustriss. Casa Pignatella alunna sempre d’huomini singolari nel temporale, e spirituale, conoscendo bene ciò esser opra d’altra tromba, che della mia rozza penna: ma giudicando esser meglio tacere, che dirne poco, ho voluto passarla con silentio. La prego si bene, che quando sarà dall’altre sue piu alte, & eroiche attioni disocupata; si degni considerare il nouo, & artificioso stile di queste poche operette, che quando vedrò da Lei essere giudicare degne, me innanimerà à publicarne dell’altre, d’Achille, e mie. E le bacio le mani che il Sig. Dio le conceda il colmo di salute, e di contento.

And yet true is that saying of Cicero, that there is no sorrow in the world so great that the length of time does not mitigate and soften it. I was pierced by the death of my son Achilles with such intense grief that I did not believe it would ever diminish. Indeed, I was so abstained from seeing, much less touching, his things, so as not to rekindle the bitter wound of grief within me, that I delayed a long time in carrying out what I promised him I would do at the end of his life, that is, to bring to light his present work. But time having somewhat mitigated the grief, one day I happened to open his coffer (which up to that time had never been touched) where he had kept his things hidden. I remind you of the obligation I owe you for the promise you made to him: I have sent you his compositions, and responded to some falsehoods put forward by his competitor, to have them printed in Rome, where he intended to go in person to clarify his case and clarify the world of wrongs that Raualle, favored there by so many of his partials, has attempted to do to him in Palermo, as Your Excellency might see in the narration I know in response to his Apologia, which is appended to the part of the Basso. But I have not permitted them to come to light without the support of your glorious name. Both because he is our patron, and because it is, no less than these, a beautiful science of Music, as of all the other liberal arts, very knowledgeable, believing it certain that it must bring you no small consolation to see the progress that some of his affectionate servants at such a young age have made in Music. In this letter, I did not wish to delve into the depths of Your Excellency's praises and those of the Illustrious Casa Pignatella, always a pupil of outstanding men in both the temporal and spiritual spheres, knowing full well that this is the work of a different trumpet than that of my own crude pen. But, judging it better to remain silent than to say little, I wished to pass it over in silence. I beg you, indeed, that when you are free from your other, more lofty and heroic deeds, please consider the new and artificial style of these few little works, which, when I see that you deem them worthy, will inspire me to publish others, both by Achilles and by myself. And I kiss your hands, and may God grant you the fullness of health and happiness.