The Booke To The Reader Poem by A N

Loe I am sent, but vnto whome God knowes:
Mine aucthor ment, this message to inclose.
Within his chest, as he doth many moe:
But at the request, of friendes abroad I goe.
I must be seene, I know of manie eyes:
If I had bene, but pend amongest the wise,
Then most men might, with liking lend me eare:
Though some would spight, the message that I beare,
To whome in deede, mine aucthor wild me say:
I pray thee read, and beare it well away.
Though liking small, yet leaue me for the rest:
That haply shall, haue me in more request,
The learned sorte, may finde simplicitie:
Though other sporte, at this my poetrie.
The godly minde, will see and search the worke,
And if he finde, the faultes that therein lurke,
He will amend, the matter with good will.
And eke defend, the aucthors purpose still.
The rest I craue, to reade and rightly iudge,
And let me haue, free passage without grudge,
As messenger that meanes but to bewray:
The massacre, of murthering Papistes praye.
Which seene and viewd, by loyall subiectes eye:
Loe I conclude, with farewell by and by.