Classic Poem

See heer, my maistre Carpenter, I yow preye,
How many chalenges ageyn me be
And I may nat deliure hem by no weye,
So me werreyeth coynes scarsetee
That ny cousin is to necessitee.
Forwhy vnto yow seeke I for refut
Which þat of confort am ny destitut.

Tho men whos names I aboue expresse
Fayn wolden þat they and I euene were,
And so wolde I, God take I to witnesse.
I woot wel I moot heere or elleswhere
Rekne of my dettes and of hem answere.
Myn herte for the dreede of God and awe
Fayn wolde it qwyte—and for constreynt of lawe.

But by my trouthe nat wole it betyde,
And therfore as faire as I can and may
With aspen herte I preye hem abyde
And me respyte to sum lenger day.
Some of hem grante and some of hem seyn nay,
And I so sore ay dreede an aftirclap
That it me reueth many a sleep and nap.

If þat it lykid vnto your goodnesse
To be betwixt [hem] and me swich a mene
As þat I mighte kept be fro duresse,
Myn heuy thoghtes wolde it voide clene.
As your good plesance is this thyng demene.
How wel þat yee doon and how soone also,
I suffre may in qwenchynge of my wo.Cest tout.