Classic Poem

To my intirely beloued worthy friend, Mr Charles Walgraue

Some rascalls brag that gentlemen they be,
Because their fathers were lords, knights, or squires:
Yet rebels are themselues to that degree;
Running for all their gentry to their sires.
Our house (say they) hath bin of ancient standing:
(But then (say I) such heirs stood not withall)
Before the Conquest long, the Sheere commaunding
God helpe your house, for now it's like to fall
(Say I againe) you, you will pull it downe,
Your vices' outrage is so violent:
For vertue still doth vnder-prop renowne:
And curtesie in vertue resident.
If matchlesse curtesie (that winnes each heart)
Do best bewray from whence a man's descended
Thou art well fitted for that noble part,
Thou plaist it well, for it thou art commended:
 Because in thee it is not counterfet:
 Which makes thee (diamond-like) more deere then great