Classic Poem

First, if I might safely crave this worlds pelfe;
To be belov'd next would I wish my selfe,
And rather then the first alone I'de chuse,
The second I would take and that refuse.
But you Sir Robert have fates blessing got,
Y'are wealthy, and belov'd, yea and what not
Nor ever were the Starres more just (I swear't)
With such great goods, to trust such good desert.