Classic Poem

Go furthe, libelle, and mekely shewe thy face,
Apperynge evere wyth humble contynaunce;
And pray my lordes the to take in grace
In opposaile, and cherisshynge the avaunce
To hardynesse, if that not variaunce
Thow haste fro troughte by full experience,
Auctours and reasone, yif ought faile in substaunce,
Remitte to heme that yafe the this science.

That sythe it is sothe, in verray feythe,
That the wyse lorde baron of Hungerforde
Hathe the oversene, and verrily he seithe
That thow arte trewe, and thus he dothe recorde,
Nexte the gospell; God wotte, it was his worde,
Whanne he the redde alle over in a nyghte.
Go forthe, trewe booke, and Criste defende thi ryghte.