Classic Poem

To my deere and much respected friend, Arthure Maynwarring, Esquire, bearer of the purse before the Lo. Chancellor.

You beare the purse; but most vnlike to him
That bare it for the Lord our lord adores;
That purse had money in't, though not so trim,
But yours is rich and yet no money stores
Besides in showe he was a saint at least,
Yet had within the seale of reprobation;
But you no saint in shew, but one in brest:
So are you all quite of another fashion
Your purse is monylesse; but yet it beares
What some would mountaines make, if one might vse it;
But that I dare not do for both mine eares,
Least that great Keeper say I much abuse it
God blesse me from his sentence, and such tricks
That are not learnd in Iustus politicks