Classic Poem

Rare Golde doth true nobility containe,
O theres no truer treasure in the Maine,
Bost cannot all the earth of any such,
Eternally that will abide the tutch,
Rightly the Gold of Ophir nothing is,
To this which purchaseth the truest blisse.

Doubtlesse then thou art orbs rare gold indeed,
O noble Lord that doth true riches breede.
Vertue is still the best security,
Garding most nobly when thy dignity,
Lively assisted Countrey-men are safe,
And sitting peaceably they'l smile and laugh,
So true orbs gold shall be your Epitaph .