Classic Poem

Plac't in Hy honour, sith your honour now
Hath free accesse to him who make us bow,
In titles who hath honour'd you full high ,
Lustring your antient honour so thereby,
Inrich't with vertue, finding you to be,
Placed you are in's Conncels secresie.

Help then must needs your goodnes (as I said)
Eternally advanc'd, be riper made,
Reaching forth still a most melissuous hand,
Blessing with comfort, poore men in the Land;
Ever may good men (one your honour is)
Rare honours great increase still, never misse;
The more Hy you, and such as you are, rise,
Ever the poore Bes, riper help comprise.