15.
A Glasse for all Men to behold themselves in; especially such proude
and prodigall-minded Men, and such delicate and daintie Women, ‘who
building on the pride of their beautie and amiable complexion, thinke
scorne to become aged; and that their sweete faces should be wrinckled,
or their youthfulnes brought into subjection by age.[_]
The attribution of this poem is questionable.
[_]
This Ditty may be sung to the ‘Earle of Oxenford's Galliard.’
You youthfull heads, whose climing mindes
Doo seeke for worldly praise,
Whose yong desires doo seeme to scorne
Olde age's staied waies.
Beare with the plaine-song of my note,
Which is so plaine in deede,
As daintie mindes will scant endure
So harshe a tale to reade.
As nature hath endued your shapes
With exquisite perfection;
And gives you choyse of sweete delights,
Wherein you have affection:
When time hath runne his course in you,
The selfe-same nature saies—
That all these daintie toyes must die,
Whereof you made your praise.
Marke how the yeere in course doth passe:
Note first the plesant spring;
The earth by nature then affoordes
Full many a precious thing:
Of fruits, of flowres, of wholsome hearbes
We gather as we please;
And all things els we lacke beside,
Our needfull wants to ease.
And likewise, in this pleasant time,
We take delight to walke,
To run and play at barley-breake,
And in our gardens talke;
One freend an other dooth invite,
They feast and make good cheere;
Both rich and poore doo make pastime,
At this time of the yeere.
But wreakfull winter drawing on,
Withdraweth these delights,
And robbes us of them, one by one,
As toyes and trifling sights.
The scith cuttes downe the goodlie grasse,
That grew so greene to day;
And all the sweete and pleasant flowers
Are changed then to hay.
The trees, that bragged in their leaves,
The bitter blasts doo bight;
And chaunge them from their goodly state
To olde and withered plight:
And they that flocked to the feeldes,
When summer was so brave,
Nowe closelie creepe about the fire
For winter warmth will have.
Compare we now the yeerely chaunge,
With man's appointed race,
Who in the Aprill of his age
Greene humours dooth embrace:
And as Maie-flowers glad the eye,
So in his youthfull time,
Man compasseth a world of joyes,
Whereto his thoughts doo clime.
Behold, likewise, dame Beautie's gyrles,
Whose daintie mindes are such,
As not the sun-shine, nor the wind,
Must their faire faces touch:
Theyr maskes, their fannes, and all the toyes,
That wanton heads can crave,
To maintaine beautie in her pride,
These prancking dames must have.
But elder yeeres approching on
A little every daie,
Their daintie beautie dooth decline,
And vanisheth away.
And as colde Winter chaseth hence
The pleasant Summer daies,
So withered age encountreth youth,
Amidst his wanton waies.
You that thinke scorne of auncient age,
And hold him in contempt,
To make of beautie such a price,
And to vaine thoughts are bent.
Remember Nature yeelds to course,
And course his race will have,
From the first howre of your byrth
Untill you come to grave.
Age is an honour unto them
That live to see the same,
And none but vaine and foolish hands
Will blot olde age with blame;
Who oftentimes are soone cut off,
And not so happy blest,
To see the dayes their fathers did,
Before they went to rest.
Thrise happy they that spend their youth
In good and vertuous wise.
Forsaking all such vaine desires
As wanton heads surmise,
And wholie doo direct themselves
Unto his will that made them,
Then Folly never can have power
From Vertue to disswade them.
