Classic Poem

To my much honored friend Sr Edmund Askfield Knight.

You once intreated me to walke with you
 From Hereford but vnto Edenbrough;
Because (said you) we liue heere in the hams
Of this scalld worlde, where neither Epigrams
Nor Satyrs can preserue it from the itch
Of scratching, common to the scraping-ritch
You went, I staid, but wished afterward
I had gone with you; yet when that I heard
A wayne-man brought you backe, and that your inne
Was but the Towre (a lodging straight and thinne)
I ioy'd I went not: But fowre yeares expir'd
And that all things fel out as you desir'd,
I wisht againe I had beene in your place:
So ioy'd and grieu'd as Fortune chang'd your case
But sith your case is now too bigg for mee
(You be'ng growne fatt, I leane in lowst degree)
 Let me rest in your heart, and then my case
 I better hold then your old resting place.