Classic Poem

In honour when your father seated high,
Ever he little rest acquir'd thereby;
Right noble Lord: but you his honour'd son,
O to your self morest then he hath won :
Moe rest and quiet to your minde attained,
Ever then he in all his life had gained.

With honour is attendant care and paine,
Ever almost, who one, doth other gaine:
Such happines is yours, to honour prest;
That notwithstanding, you do min moe rest .
O win moe rest still, till the heavens you gaine,
Never desist for rest to take some paine.