University of Virginia Library

It chaunced that on the eleuenth daye.
Of the floryshynge Moneth, of lustye Maye,
When Titan, into Taurus, hys enterye began,
And the younge bloude, of euery creature than,
Renued hys strength, and powers dyd reuiue.
So that eche thynge nowe, appeared on lyue,
Whiche in the stormye wynter, before,
Had sustayned, Eolus Isy blastes sore,
And that the waterye Snowes, had them so torne,
Because, of the vehement rage, of Capricorne.
Whiche colde cloudye mystes, once paste theyr waye,
Eche thynge, receaued agayne corage, in hys araye,
And because the sharpe colde, hys malyce had done,
The Mauis endeuoured her selfe, fyrst, her notes to tune.
Next after, the pleasaunt Nightingale, tempered her voyce,
Which wt her mery melody, euery heart, doth greatly reioyce,
The Thrushe, the Blackebyrde, and the Grenefinche also.
In thys merye sprynge tyme, dyd shewe what they coulde do,
And then also, the Sunne shynynge verye hote,
Caused the crabbed Cockowe, to declare her olde note,
In thys freshe tyme, (I saye) for my recreacion,
Into the woodes I walked, to take delectacion,
Aswell for to heare, the ioyfull byrdes synge,
As also to beholde, howe euerye thynge dyd sprynge,
And shewe them selues, agayne, alyue in theyr kynde,
That in the wynter, were bare, and naked, to the rinde
Eche tre budded, and hys leaues gan to sprede,
Eche herbe had hys floures, in euerye grene mede,
The Primerose, the Uiolet, were then in their prime,
And the swete smellynge coursloppe, florished at thys tyme,
The Hauthorne, the Cheritre, and the Damascigne,
And eche Aple tre blomed, declarynge good signe,
That yf God their swete blossommes, wolde vouchesafe to saue,
Great store of fruite, of them we shoulde haue,
And thus goynge alone, vnder the woode syde.
A fayre aged man, I shortelye espyde,
And euen strayght after me, he came a softe pace,
I stayed a lytle therwith, thynckinge in this cace,
Thys olde man semeth, a man of grauitie,
And therfore I wolde be very glad, of hys companye.
In thys stayinge a whyle, at last he ouertoke me,
And with verye graue countenaunce, saluted me gentlye,
And with salutacion, agayne I dyd hym grete,
As to my duetye, I thoughte it moste mete.
Good father (and yf it please you) sayde I,
Tell me, howe farre your iourney, this way doeth lye,
And yf the same lye, anye thinge neare,
I wylbe very glad, you companye to beare,
For I haue, at thys tyme, lytle to do,
And woulde therfore, learne, some good counsayle of you.
And because it is so, I am younge, and frayle,
And not as yet instructed, with wholsome counsayle,
My lyfe to directe, in tyme for to come,
Good lessons, of you, I woulde learne some.
Whiche might cause me, for you, hereafter to praye,
When I shall folowe the same, an other daye,
Gentle sonne, (quod he) the trueth to declare,
About foure myles hence, my iourney is to fare,
And because I am aged, and maye not well go,
I take the mornynge with me, for it behoueth me so,
And backe agayne to nyght, homewarde, wyll I, yf I can,
Nyne myle a daye, is a great iourney, for an aged man,
Wherwith, I remembred my selfe, by and by,
And behelde the Sunne shyne, so gladsomely,
Cleare was the skye, and lightsome was the ayre,
And also the waye, semed very fayre,
My busynes, in dede (quod I) father, lyeth thre myle and more,
Along that waye, which ye must go, and therfore,
I wyl goe with you softly, and make no great haste,
For it requireth none, and this furth on we paste,
God thancke you younge man, sayde he: that ye are so kynde,
Since ye wyll go with me, and not leaue me behynde,
And because your good wyll is, some wisedome to lere,
The best counsayle I can geue, ye shall here,
And I wyll gladly, geue you the heringe (quod I)
Therfore when it shall please you, saye on by and by.
First good sonne, ye must to me make playne,
Where is your dwellynge, and where ye remayne,
What state ye are of, and of what disposition,
And wherunto your mynde is geuen, in euery condicion,
Also what is your name, ye muste to me shewe,
And whether ye are syngle, or maried I woulde knowe,
Before, I can shewe you, my good aduise,
Or in any thynge prudently, enstructe you otherwyse.
Truely (quod I) my dwellynge, is not farre hence,
And to a worthye gentle man, of great reuerence,
Late seruaunt I was, but he is nowe deceassed,
Wherfore of seruyce, I am clearelye released,
And touchynge myne age, I am younge it appeares,
As yet not passynge, one and twentye yeares,
Nitnelaue truelye, most men call myne name,
Also single, and vnmaried, as yet I remaine,
Well then, I perceyue (quod he) ye are yet yonge ynough,
In vertue to begynne, and so leade your lyfe through,
And also at libertie, and without a wyfe,
Nor as yet addicte, to any one kynde of lyfe,
Further as farre, as I maye or gesse can,
Ye were lately as it were, a seruynge man,
Nowe whether it be, your mynde, and your wyll,
In the trade of seruyce, to continue styll,
Or leaue of the same, and by some other meane,
To seke otherwayes, your liuinge to sustayne,
Thys also to knowe, I earnestlye require,
Or els, I can no waye, satisfie your desire,
In good fayth (sayde I) so mote I thriue,
A seruaunt I haue bene, aboute yeares fiue,
And truely haue serued to my power,
Since into seruice, I entered the fyrst hower,
Wherin, there is so great, trauayle, and payne,
At moste tymes, and so very lytle gayne,
And at other tymes also, ydlenes so greate,
Doinge nothynge, but iettinge, in the feldes, and streate,
Wherin, also there is muche great exercise,
Almoste, of euery maner, and kinde of vice,
Bothe pride, dronckennesse, and also swearynge,
By abhominable othes, God him selfe tearynge,
Suche quarrelynge, fighting, and other abhomination,
Wherof, I coulde make, vnto you true relation,
Yf it were not odible, for you to heare,
As thexperience therof, playnlye doeth appeare,
That I intende, vtterlye, the same to refuse,
And some other, more godly state, of lyuynge to chuse,
Wherin I may, spende my tyme, more honestlie,
And in the feare of God, lyue more quietlie,
Without doubt (quod he) thou hast sayde trulye,
For besydes, the foresayde noughtenesse, plentye
When a man hath, serued, a great tyme,
Yf he haue done, neuer so lytle a cryme,
Awaye he muste, there is none other remedy,
Thus, is he put, to hys shiftes, by and by,
And put case, that he in seruyce continue,
Untyll age come, that he can no more doe,
Then is he caste of, either to begge hys breade,
Or in miserye, to lyue, tyll tyme he be deade,
And euermore commonlye, it is sene and harde.
Thys to be, of miserable seruyce, the rewarde.
And to serue anye man, in the court of renowne,
You see, howe soone, they be vp, and downe,
But yf it shoulde chaunce you, as it doeth, to verye fewe,
Ye shoulde, so in your maisters fauoure, hap to growe,
That he myght by some office, or other waye,
Get you any good lyuynge, some one daye,
Whiche is but a chaunce, and fortune ye maye it call,
For they gape them selues, for euerye windefall,
Then shall he thynke you, styl to hym bounde,
So longe as ye are lyuynge, on the grounde,
And yf it chaunce hym hereafter, the lawe to haue offended,
You also beynge hys man, are lyke to be apprehended,
Then haue ye well, and fayre fished in dede,
Your rysynge, was then, in more haste, then good spede,
And some, wise men flee commonlye, suche lyuynge to seke,
Whiche is first so harde to come by, and after so il to kepe.
Wherfore, to applye thy youth, nomore in it,
I can not chuse, but greatlye allowe, thy wit,
Nowe then (quod he) further, what other vocacion,
Serueth thy mynde thee, or to what occupacion,
To get thy lyuynge, either by trade of marchaundise,
Or by some handye crafte, or arte otherwise.
No (sayde I) in marchaundise, I haue no skyll,
Nor to spende my tyme, therin I wyll,
Forasmuche, as the same, is ruled by chaunce,
Also, sence I am ignoraunte therof, howe can it me auaunce,
And he that by marchandise, wyll get hys lyuynge,
Nedeth bothe good credit, and a stocke at the begynnynge,
But in me lacketh bothe, for stocke haue I none,
And because I was once a seruynge man, my credit is gone,
Fewe merchauntes wyll truste, any of that race,
Althoughe it were neuer in so honest a cace,
Besydes that, I must swere, perioure, and lye,
If I wyll, byinge and sellynge occupie,
My wares, must be nowe and then, also counterfet,
If I intende, by them, anye gayne to get,
Throughe which I shall, displease God, and synne,
Thus doinge, I shal, a fayre threde spynne,
I wyll rather dispise, suche vnhappye wynnynge,
As wyll brynge me to hell, at the first begynnynge,
You saye well, (quod he) and besydes all thys,
To be a marchaunt, sonne, another thynge there is,
For many marchauntes, of late in thys lande,
Haue bene vndone, and brought behynde hande,
Whiche neuer coulde, after agayne aryse,
Suche is the bryttell state, of marchaundise,
Also, sayde I, in any other handye crafte, or science,
Trulye to confesse, I haue none entelligence,
And thoughe I had, yet is the worlde, nowe in suche penury,
That almoste no kynde of craftes man, can lyue therby
All kynde of thynges, are nowe waxen so dere,
That the lyke hath not bene sene, thys manye a yere,
I wyll tell you, (quod he) sence tyme, I was borne,
And I shal be iuste .lxxx. yeare olde, come to morne,
Was neuer, suche misery, necessitie, and nede.
Amongest eche estate, in euerye stede,
As is euen nowe, at thys presente daye,
For though, diuerse tymes past, as I saye
Corne hath bene, as dere, here before,
Yet of all other thynges, we had plentye and store,
But nowe, the price of all thynges, hath lepte, suche a leape,
That nother, fode, clothing, nor any other thing, is good cheape.
In whome the faulte is, truly I can not tell,
But I woulde to God, that all thynge were well,
And I tell you younge man, in good earnest,
I heartely thancke, my redemer Christ,
That my hoore head, is so neare vnto the graue,
My miserye, shalbe the shorter, that I fele, and haue,
But concernynge, our firste communication,
It semeth, your mynde is, to none occupacion,
What then, haue ye good learnynge, any whitte,
Perchaunce, to be a priest, ye thyncke your selfe fitte,
And surely (quod he) yf your callynge be so wel,
Then ye do amisse, neuer a del,
For to preache, truely Gods worde, and be a minister,
Yf your callynge be therunto, ye can not do better,
Certaynlye (quod I) my learnynge is but small,
And to great a matter, it is, for me to medle withall,
Well learned he shoulde be, and of Gods callynge,
That shoulde occupie, the place of preachynge,
But I am bothe verye vnlearned truelye,
And also farre vnmete, that place to occupye,
You saye well (quod he) for ye myght, worke your selfe wo,
Yf ye woulde attempte, in at the windowe to go,
Or leape ouer the shepecote, not called by God,
So might you make, for your owne tayle a rod,
With almightie God (sonne) is not good, to playe,
For he may not, be dallied with, by no waye,
Ye might therby, heape Gods vengeaunce, to you, for your hast,
And eternall dampnation, perchaunce, at the last,
To be a lawier, then (quod he) perchaunce, is thy desire,
Therby, thou thynckest, to great ryches, to aspire,
Not so (quod I) for some learnynge, I doe lacke,
Nor neuer, of Sophistrie, or Lodgike, had the smacke,
By whiche standeth the chiefest, and principall poynte,
As of that, pleadinge science, the best ioynte,
All thinges considered, I mynde not that art.
Nor euer, hither, coulde it stande with my harte,
Certaynelye, sayde he, the lawe is good, if it be well vsed,
But nowe, the iustice, of the ryght lawe, is somwhat abused,
And manye of their risynge, is by extorcion,
Wherby, they clime, to haue, of riches, such porcion,
And through the same, they almoste are growne, to like obliquie,
As the Clergie, at the first fal, were wont to be,
And not without a very vrgent cause,
They doe, some without right, so writhe, & wrest the lawes,
And (sonne) in my iudgement, to be playne,
Much of their lawe, tendeth to their owne gayne.
Wel, then I thincke, ye wyl beyonde the sea go,
Your youth in learning, to occupye so,
Forsouth (quod I) of al the rest I fynde
That this most pleasinge, to my mynde,
Yf so it were, my liuinge woulde extende,
There to kepe me, two or thre yeares to an ende,
Wherby I myght, though it were to my payne,
Se countreyes, and some knowledge obtayne,
But he that goeth thyther, without a good purse,
Goeth out of Goddes blessinge, into hys curse,
It is good for such men, to go ouer truelye,
As entende, the kinges embassatours to be,
His graces waightie affaires, there for to do,
But I am not lyke, to come therto
The trueth for to say, and to be playne,
Since there is so much hasarde, and so small gayne,
I am not as yet, mynded in thys cace,
To seke my lyuynge, in so farre a place,
Therfore (quod the aged man) I agre,
For yf ye lacke there, ye shal fall in great miserie,
And little boteth, you ther, to serue anye man then,
For they are all, other flawes, or gentle men,
Further (sayde he) what wilt thou then applie,
To lyue in the countreye, by thy lande or annuitie,
As perchaunce thou hast, which I doe not knowe,
Tel me, that I may, thee, my best counsayle shewe,
I haue not (quod I) muche liuinge truelye,
But that which I haue, lyeth in the countreye,
Whervpon, I wyl, yf God hys helpe sende,
Quietly liue, and there my life ende,
Nowe I perceaue (quod he) thine hole entente,
In aringe thee, questions, this time haue I spente,
Therfore nowe I wyll shewe thee, in al that I can,
My counsayle, how thou mayest best proue, an honest man,
Say on (quod I) let vs no lenger tyme waste,
For since we began, a good way haue we paste,
My sonne (sayde he) thou semest verye wise,
That in thys last case, thy selfe doest aduise,
Fyrst God, and godly thynges, I wyl to thee preache,
And after in worldly thinges, to my power I wyl thee teache.

THE principallest thynge, wherin thou muste entende,
Is to haue good respecte, alwayes to the ende,
Wherfore, and why, God thee dyd create,
And howe, he hath appoynted thee, and in what estate,
For to thende, of thy fyrste creacion,
Directe thy lyfe, in euery condicion,
Sonne, God brought thee, into the worlde here,
For two good causes, as it shall appere,
Fyrste, to geue hym thanckes, laude, honour, and glorie,
And euermore, to prayse hys eternall maiestie,
Aswel, for that it pleased hym, thee to forme and make,
And al thinges earthly, to create for thy sake,
As also, for that, when thou were lost, by Adams gilte,
He woulde not, of hys meare mercy, see thee spilte,
But sent hys deare sonne, from hys hygh trone,
Into thys wretched worlde, to redeme vs euery one,
Where, he toke vpon hym, our nature frayle,
In the blessed virgens wombe, for our auayle,
And then, here in earth, vs thirty yeares taughte,
By his worde, and miracles, which he wōderfully wroughte,
And at last, on the crosse, suffred hys bitter passion,
Onely to redeme vs, and to obtayne cleane remission,
Whiche, his mercy, yf it had not bene the greater,
We had remayned, dampned soules, and no better,
For thys cause, we are bounde him alwayes to prayse,
For from death, synne, and hel, he agayne, dyd vs rayse,
Therfore, him to prayse, praye vnto, & wurshyp with feare,
Thys, stedfastly, in thy mynde, see that thou beare,
For it is the chiefest poynt, of vertue, to laude, and knowe,
The creation, of men, and al thynges, that growe,
Without thys, other vertues, are nothynge regarded,
In lackynge, thys pitie, thou shalte be lytle rewarded,
For thys, to all vertues, is thentrye ful playne,
Sence, by prayer onely, eche good thyng, of God we obtayne.

THE other cause, why God thee hyther broughte,
Was, that thou shouldest, in worde, worke, and thoughte,
Alwayes endeuour, thy selfe to thy power,
Hys holye commaundementes, to obaye, euery houre,
Whiche because, I thincke, thou doest sufficientlye knowe,
It nedeth not me, to repete them, on a rowe,
For these two causes, specially, my dere sonne,
God, into the worlde, caused thee, to come,
These firme foundacions, fixed, once in thyne harte,
Then iustice rightlye to embrace, see thou doe thy parte,
Suffering no man, to sustayne, any iniury by thee,
Or to hurt any creature, by dede, or worde, see thou flee,
And so do, to other men, of eche estate, and degree,
As thou wouldest, haue all men, shoulde do vnto thee,
For this lawe, of dame Nature, euery other lawe, doth excell,
Which, yf thou obserue not, in euery poynt, well,
Trust me truly (good sonne) bothe the Lorde, thou shalt offende,
And in heauen, haue no habitacion, at thy lyues ende,
Further, any man, for hys honour, his goodes, or good name,
Beware, thou hate, not by malice, or disdayne,
Also be circumspecte, that neither bribes, hate or loue,
Thy heart, from equitie, and iustice, do remoue,
For these thre thinges, we see, so blindeth many mens sighte,
That their iudgementes, and doinges, are contrary, to right,
But thou (my sonne) remembre, that once thou shalt die,
And for these dedes, yf thou do them, be punished, eternallie,
Also, the wicked thirstinge, riches to obtayne,
And the vngodly coueting, of siluer, golde, and other gayne,
Se thou also extue, for where couetousnes, doth raygne,
There al kynde of wickednes, of force must remayne,
Impietie, periurie, rapine, and theuynge,
Fraude, crafte, and disceate, with lecherous lyuynge,
Quarellynge, & treasons, with murders, and kyllynge,
For landes, treasures, and goodes, many men, spillynge,
Finallye, no filthier thinge is there, or more detestable I say,
Then a man to be couetouse, by any maner of way,
For whoso to that vile vice, is once geuen,
To the blynde Mole, I maye him wel lyken,
Which neither loueth, desireth, or any way knoweth,
Any other thynge, then in thys vayne worlde, groweth,
The wretche doth not see, howe shorte, and how frayle,
The life of man is, and how death, doth vs assayle,
Daylye ready, to strike vs, his bowe being bente,
With his deadly, doubtfull darte, then is to late, to repente,
He nother spareth, the younge, the olde, or any degre,
The riche, the learned, or the man in auctorytie,
The Lawer, the Landlorde, or the lacking poore man, yt wepith,
But withoute any difference, he euery man stryketh,
And he is oftetymes nerest vs, we dailie doo see,
When we mooste, thincke him, furthest of too bee,
But then (my sonne) these wordlie ryches here,
And these vaine goodes, subiecte, to blinde fortunes power,
Doo lytill esteme, nor moche for them care,
For these thinges are none of thyne, whatsoeuer they are,
Which either, vnstable fortune, hir pleasure too fulfill,
Doth geue, graunte, and plucke awaye, at hir variable will,
Or which, when thou dyest, will no lenger abyde,
But to seke them newe maisters, awaye soudainly thei doo slyde
There bee other goodes, which thou oughtest too acquyre,
And moche better ryches, thou shouldest desyre,
Which with thee alwayes will remaine, and endure,
Of whom neither fortune, nor death, hath power be thou sure
These, ought thou too heape vp, for the, night and daye,
Then, in dede arte thou happie, and riche, euerye waie,
As for the reste, which the commō people, followe, and magnifie,
Yf thou haue them, as landes, goodes, catailles, or moneye,
Lawfullie vse the same, no man can forbide thee,
But thou oughtest to vse them, with Iustice, and modestie,
And also when thou maiest, pytie the pouertie,
And neuer shutte thine eares, at the crye of the nedie,
For who so with compassion, wil not hear, the crieng of the poore
Shal crye him self, and not be heard, I am sure,
By releuinge the poore, thou laiest vp in stoore,
A treasure, in heauen, to continue euermore,
Which neither cancre can corrupte, neither theues, them cōuaie,
Thus heauēly treasure, for worldly trifles, yu shalt haue another daye
No man he is, but a Wulfe, that clemencye lacketh,
And which, at other mens myserie, no pitie taketh,
Or that, refuseth too helpe, his fellowe seruaunte here,
Seinge wee are all seruauntes, to one Lorde, and maister,
But yf it shall happen the (I saye) a poore man too bee,
With pacient hearte, beare, and sustaine, the pouertie
For the man, that hath moche, wee alwaye well see,
Is troubled, and tossed, with cares, aboundauntlie,
Also he, to whom fortune, hath of goodes geuen stoore,
Too haue bene quiet, and still, but experience teacheth,
That the talkatiue person, oft to his paine repenteth,

FINALLY my sonne, a nother thing ther is,
Which I haue not to the yet, rehersed ywys,
That aboue all the rest, thy lyfe will deface,
If in youth too represse it, thou haue not the grace,
That is the wanton desyres, of the bodie frayle,
With this thy best age, will violentlie assaile,
The lewd lustes wherof, see that thou flee,
And brydle thou them, before they blind thee,
Ther is no thinge too vertue, soo cleane contrarye,
As is the wicked concupiscence, of the bodie,
Wher vertue too the heauens, striueth too assende,
Uyle luste, vaine pleasures, onlie doth attende,
Lokinge alwaies, as a beast too the earth grouelinge,
The liuelie sprites, both of the minde, and bodie distroyenge,
The deuill taketh manie, with his hooke and snare,
Like a craftie foxe, no trauell doth he spare,
So he may withhold them, the blisse of heauen too attaine,
And after this life, within in hell, too liue euer with paine,
These deceates therfore, of Sathan thin enemie,
And this detestable poyson, couered ouer with honye,
Warely beware of, as moche as thou maye,
Least the same repent the, in vaine a nother daye,
When thy rype yeres, of discretion, and mans perfect state,
Shall clearlie perceaue, all thoughe then to late,
Thy wytte, thy substaunce, members, and good name,
By a lytill wanton pleasure, consumed to remane,
Then shalt thou, as many other, ar wont too saie,
Oh youth, and lustye yeares, howe ar yee vanyshed awaye
Howe euill haue I spente you, wretche that I am,
Whether are ye gone, oh vnfortunate man,
Yf god of his goodnes, wold eftsones restore,
The ioyfull iuuentute, I once had before,
If I might once I saye, the same againe obtaine,
I wold then tread, the right pathe, of vertue soo plaine,
Although the same were, neuer so narowe a waye,
I wolde therein walke, and continue night and daye,
That there is no thing like vertue, I finde nowe full true,
Nor to it, too bee compared, this alas ofte doo I rue,
Whiche euer continueth, and alwaye doth endure,
Geuing to man, suche worthy prayse, & honor as is sure,
She increaseth thy ryches, and thy lyfe doth preserue,
Yea after death, she abiding, away wyl not swarue,
But I of all other, thincke my selfe most vnhappye,
Who by flatteringe voluptuousnes, was deceaued wylfullye,
Which slidyng away, longe since hath lefte me,
Wrapped in al my mischiefes, and wofull miserye,
For I beinge a younge man, the stewes dyd frequente,
And in bancketinge, slepe, and play, my tyme ydlye spente,
Nothing then woulde I learne, all study I despised,
Abhorring in good science, to be exercised,
But nowe therfore (wo worth the tyme) I well see,
My selfe bothe vnlearned, and no lesse diffamed to be,
In pouertie also, and my whole body brused,
My wittes altogether dulled, and my sences confused,
I haue hither to liued, as one who hath dreamed,
Him selfe to be awake, and yet was deceaued,
Suche thinges (sonne) of some men, we are wonte for to here,
That are farre stricken in age, and to their graue draw nere.
Which callynge to remembraunce, their lustye yeares past,
Do now (but to late) bewayle their miserye at the last,
Then shuttinge the stable dore, when horses there be none,
And now waxing wise, when blinde Fortune is gone,
Then sekyng a Surgion to heale their rancled sore,
When there is no hope of cure, in the same any more,
My sonne, therfore take tyme, whyle thou maye,
For it neuer retourneth, yf it once vanishe awaye,
Neither waylinge, wyl helpe, nor wepynge then remedye,
Yf the body be once stricken, with deathes darte deadlye.
The medicine is profitable, Phicisions doe saye,
That in time is ministred, not slackyng any daye,
Wherfore when thyne youth, first to floryshe doth begynne,
Then thee behoueth vertue to embrace, and fle from synne,
Then oughtest thou to take, the ryght pathe of lyuynge,
To good and honest studyes, thy selfe holly applyinge,
Then vse thou reason, and gouerne by counsayle thy mynde,
While the same is pliaunte, euery waye to wynde,
Whoso wylbe wyse, let him be wyse whyle he maye,
For to be wise a daye after the fayre, is folyshnes I saye,
And therfore he is worthye, hys miserye to sustayne,
Bewaylinge the losse, yt is neuer to be recouered agayne,

NOWE touchinge this worlde, vnderstande plainelye,
That the same is veary short, and transitorie,
And the hole lyfe of man, wherein we do runne,
In comparison to theternite, of the worlde to come,
The trueth wherof, to be truely declared,
To one momente of tyme, is not to be compared,
And touching the myserye, of the worlde I saye,
He is happyer that is gone, then here farre awaye,
For marke I pray the, howe infancye cometh oute,
Of his mothers wombe naked, without any cloute,
And the first thinge he then doth, is wepinge with teares,
Because the miserie of this worlde, as I thincke he feares,
As I mighte it lyken, to some marchaunt man,
Which on some perrellous vyage, his waye must take than,
And fearing both drowninge, Pirats, and shipwrake,
Tremblynge, so daungerous a iourney to take,
Euen so, nature teacheth, the infaunte plainlye,
That he then entreth, into the vale of myserie,
All other beastes, that nature bringeth forthe,
To their dāmes tytt, ronne straight with open mouthe,
But man, as soone as euer he is borne,
Yf the mother, clothe, and fede him not, he is forlorne,
After Infauncie, how longe it is,
Or perceueraunce crepyth, in that lityll brest of his,
Childhode cometh after, wherof neyther of them both,
Can by reason rule them selues, be they lefe or loth,
Then what grefe, trauayle, feare, and payne,
Suffreth the chylde, or he to iuuentute doth attayne,
Then ignoraunte fraill youth, begynneth to aryse,
Which leaueth reason, and comonly is ruled by vyce,
His strength encreasinge, he putteth away feare,
Good warninges, and preceptes, he will then no more heare,
Then waxeth he wilde, his younge bloud beinge warme,
Geuen to Ire, and Luste, which doth hym moch harme,
Good counsell he refuseth, and is then rashe in all thinge,
To the euill enclyned, the good euer extuinge,
No perel he doubteth, no daunger he doth refraine,
So that his fraill luste, he may by anie meane obtaine,
No lawe he then feareth, yf there be a toye in his braine,
Fewe younge men in that age, from vice can abstaine,
Whom either shamefastnes, feare, or wisdome, doth constraine,
By no spotte of vice, their youth for to straine,
Then cometh mans state, graue and sage,
By experience, and wisdome, he is taught in this age.
Then vnsounde are his slepes, he lauboureth with paine,
The liuinge of him selfe, and his house to sustaine,
He gathered together, in that state of life,
In age to kepe him, his famelie and wife,
Onelie caringe for them all, both to cloth and fede,
Spendinge this his best age, with miserye in dede,
And then wearye rude age, on man fast crepeth,
Stealinge vpon him, whether he waketh or sleapeth,
Bringinge many discommodites, both of minde, and bodie,
His strength taketh his leaue, his freshe colour will not tarye
His sences shrincke awaye, his sight waxeth dime,
His hearinge dulleth, and his smellinge leaueth hime,
Further he is alwaies vexed, with one or other disease,
No meate him then sauourith, al thinge him displease,
Withoute aide of a stafe, his legges him then fale,
His witte is then gone, his body shrincketh, waxing pale,
This euery age, hath his infirmitie, we see,
Which of force, we are forced, to suffer pacientlie,
Which last age, will not leaue him, til he hath broughte,
Man to his graue, where he consumeth to noughte,

I LET passe, of all other comon perrilles to tell,
With which man is beseged, while he here doth dwell,
Wherwith a mans life, is so greately enuironed,
That it is seldome, or neuer, but by some of them deuoured,
Nowe vehemente colde, with Isye snowe greue vs,
Then hotte burninge heate, to vs are molestiouse,
Thextremitie, whereof, as is ofte seene,
Causeth the ground, wyde open, some licoure to obtaine,
Sometyme we are noyed, by so greate wete, and raine,
That it ouerfloweth, hole contries we se plaine,
Hunger, thirst, and also moch penurie,
Wyth the wantyng, of necessarie thinges to occupie,
Who can declare, in miter, or in prose,
The greate and manyfolde, nomber of those,
Diseases, and sickenesses, of euery kinde,
Which killeth daylie our bodies, and vexith our minde,
By battel, and warfaire, some men are confounded,
In the seas, and other, waters, many men, are drowned,
Other some, by fallinge, catch theyr bane,
Or els by crushing, their members, are made lame,
Some men, cruell fyre, to ashes doth consume,
Many ar chocked, and cruell beastes killeth some,
What shal I recite, howe in earth, the liuing manne,
Hath no greater enemie, then the sede wherof he came,
Of that sede, springeth, al theues, and robers,
All murderers, periured, and false witnesse bearers,
Fornicatours also, and vile, adulterers,
And of mankinde discende, al wicked doers,
This mā with his weapon, another with his tongue mē do kile,
The most parte, by fraude, and deceate, worketh ile,
O lorde, all men, almoost nowe take delite,
At other mens harmes, suche is their spite,
The brother, the naturall brother, doth mistrust,
The amitie, of frendes, nowe lieth in the dust,
The father, his sonne, and the husband his wife,
Eche suspecte other, here is a goodly lyfe,
Nowe sonne, I haue told the, aswell as I can,
The perels, that doo compasse, the life of man,
Wherfore thou maiest not, this worldelie pleasure vse
Except thou intende, eternell life to refuse,
And the tyme veary short, that thou here shalt remaine,
The trueth wherof, I can well declare plaine,
For all though that I am, nowe fowre score yeare olde,
Yet the bedroll of my lyfe, when I do vnfolde,
I do nowe wel ponder, and perceaue in this case,
The same to haue ben, but a veary litil space,
And yet to liue myne age, of a hunderith I knowe,
One shalt thou not finde, though thou sought them on a rowe
Good father sayde I, I thincke you saye true,
For I haue seene veary fewe, of thage of youe,
Nowe (quod he) I haue taughte you, sufficientlie to knowe,
First God, your selfe, and the worlde, I trowe,
And because quietlie, your lyfe you wolde leade,
In the feare, and loue, of God, as ye saide,
I coulde wishe, you should prudentlie prouyde,
Of some good stocke, a wife with you to abyde,
By whome, ye shal, many comodites possesse,
More then I can, at this tyme, expresse,
For your wife, shall leaue, both father and mother,
To sticke to you onely, and to none other,
Hyr owne kinred, and frendes doth she leaue,
Dayelie, duringe hir lyfe, to you for to cleaue,
By hir, shall ye haue, fruite of your owne sede
Which shal kepe you in remembraunce, whē tyme ye are dede,
Obedient, she wilbe, and a succour alwayes,
And a ioyfull ioye also, to prolonge your dayes,
Eche good thinge, shal be comon, euer you betwene,
Your gaines, shal be one, your lyuinges to sustaine,
Further, yf age, or sicknes, shal greue you hereafter,
She wil be a contynuall, and faithfull helper,
By assistinge, ministrynge, and watchinge, you also,
Comfortinge, and releuinge you, with the best she can do,
And then youre children, which hereafter may florishe,
Will do theyr indeuour, you gladely to cherishe,
In whom ye shal yet lyue, when life is gone cleane,
And your name still on lyue, by them shall remane,
Further, to them shall ye leue, youre goodes being gotte,
And not vnto straunge heires, which ye knowe not,
Besides this, your wife, with hir somewhat wil bringe
Towarde the maintenaunce, of your and her liuinge,
Both frendes, and kinsefolke, by hir wil arise,
Which maye be to thee profytable, in sondrye wise,
Wherfore, a wife you must haue, ther is none other naye,
Yf ye meane quietlie, and godlye to liue another daye,
Good father (quod I) me thinke ye saye well,
But of one thinge, I wolde gladlie heare tell,
Which waye were best, by your consyderacyon,
Howe I myght, haue one, of an honest conuersacion,
Marye younge man (quod he) there lyeth al the matter,
In the wittie wisdome, of him that choseth hyr,
For I wold not haue the, therin to be begylde,
As I was once nere, when I was younge and wylde,
Which if it were not, for lacke of time, and space,
Thou shouldest plainelie heare, my folly in this case,
I pray you (quod I) take the paines to declare it,
And for lacke of time, and space, do not spare it,
Nay not so (quod he) for we are now, nere cōe to ye fermers place
Whith whome I entende, to comon a litell space,
Touchinge, my busynesse, wherfore I hether came,
Which beinge once finished, yf thou wilt thane,
Beare me companie, homward, in the waye,
I wil declare, al the rest, I haue yet to saye,
To the which, I aunswered, that I wold veary galdlye
So that he wolde, dispacth his matters quyckelie.