Classic Poem

If I must begge it sall be far fra hame,
If I must want it is aganis my will.
I haif a stomok tho' I hold me still,
To suffer smart bot not to suffer shame.
In spyt of fortun, I shall flie with fame;
Sho may my corps, bot not my curage kill:
My hope is high houbeit my hap be ill,
And kittle aneugh, and clau me on the kame.
Wes Bishop Betoun bot restord agane,
To my ruin reserving all the rest
To recompense my prisoning and pane!
The worst is ill, if this be bot the best:
Is this the frute Sir of your first affectione,
My pensioun perish under your protectione?