University of Virginia Library

My Sonne, for that I hold thee deere,
And haue not long to tarrie heere;
This Lesson kindly learne of mee,
To leaue the World, ere it leaue thee:
And rather learne, and wish to die,
Then liue in filthy Villanie.
Learne not to cogge, and lie, and prate,
To climbe the stepps of Honors state:
Nor waight vpon a wicked Whore,
Like Serberus, to keepe her dore,
While that the Diuell getteth in,
To place him in the pride of sinne.
Nor follow Fooles, nor flatter Knaues,
Nor swagger with the swearing Slaues:
Nor coozen any crooked Croane,
Nor counterfaite a needles moane.
Nor cut a Pursse, nor robb a Church,
Nor giue a silly soule the lurch:
Nor want sufficient for thy need,
Nor shrinke to stand thy friend in steed.
Nor foyst a Die, nor cut a Card,
Nor hinder Vertue of reward.
Nor make Religion cloake of sinne,
Nor fall into the Diuels Ginne.
Learne not to paint an ougly face,
Nor falsely plead a poore mans case.
Nor take a Bribe, nor do a wrong,
Nor pittilesse a paine prolong.
Nor plot a treason, nor conspire
Too high an Honour to aspire.
Nor lazie with the idle bones,
Nor feede vpon the needy ones.
Nor false thy fayth, nor feare thy foe:
Nor seeke thy wealth by others woe.
Oh do not thou delight in blood,
Nor, beare two faces in a hood:
Nor play the Asse, to make men laffe,
Nor with the Drunckarde learne to quaffe:
Nor sweare,and lie,for worldes of wealth,
Nor purchase Honors tipe by stealth.
Nor cuckold Age, nor Slaunder Youth:
Nor vse thy tongue vnto vntrueth,
Nor bend thy wittes to wanton trickes,
Nor come too neare the Iade that kickes:
Nor borrow still, and neuer pay,
Nor Carde nor Dice thy wealth away.
Nor fall in loue with foolish thinges,
Nor come among the Serpents Stinges.
Nor drowne thy selfe in Puddle water,
Nor set a gloze on an ill matter:
Nor vndermine an honest minde,
Nor to a brother be vnkind.
Nor tempt the chast affect, to euill:
Nor follow Atheists to the Diuell.
Nor take In-cummes, raise no Rent,
Nor murther anie Innocent.
Deflowre no Virgin; trust betray,
Nor wake the night, and sleepe the day.
Nor haunt the Fairies in the night,
Nor carrie Hornes to all mens sight:
Nor weare gay Clothes on thy backe,
And see a world of people lacke.
Nor scratch with Cats, nor snarle with Curres,
Nor line thy Coate with Hedg-hogs furres.
Nor butt with Rammes, nor fight with Bulls,
Nor cheate vpon a sight of Gulls.
Nor grace the care of craftines,
Nor blot the name of noblenes.
Nor tickle Follie in the eare,
Nor like the Wind, be euerie where:
Nor play with Monkies, Apes,nor Owles,
Nor harken to the Diuels howles.
Nor set thy hart in Beautis eies,
Nor make the Earth a Paradice.
Nor put thy trust in any one,
But onely thy good God alone.
Oh do not thou become a Dogge,
Nor feede vpon a meazzled Hogge.
Nor in a poyson seeke for Honny,
Nor like a Ferret, hunt a Cunny.
Nor like a Tiger, teare and kill,
What ere he findes, his maw to fill.
Doe not thou set thy Loue to sale,
Nor listen to an idle tale.
Nor binde a promise with an oath,
And make no care of fayth and troth.
Nor follow Witches, nor their Charmes,
Nor, pleasure in thy neighbours harmes.
Nor to an old griefe, add a new.
Nor in thy Conscience prooue a Iew.
Nor let a cruell Wolfe goe loose,
Nor, with a Foxe, to hunt a Goose.
Nor loue a Dogge more then a Man,
Nor kill a Ducke, to gaine a Swan.
Nor chase a Flea, nor lodge a Lowse,
Nor swagger in a Bawdie house.
Nor hunt a Doe that is with Fawne,
Nor lay thy Lands nor Clothes to pawne.
Nor liue by Ballads nor bald Rimes,
Nor Libell vpon loftie Crimes.
Nor loose thy time in making loue,
Nor take a Iack-daw for a Doue.
Nor feede with Rauens, on little Lambes,
Nor with the Eagle, kill their Dambes.
Nor with the Cuckow kill thy breeder,
Nor laugh at any learned Reeder.
Nor with the Turkie, beat thy Hen,
Nor company with wicked Men:
Nor make a trauayle vnto Rome,
And come, for to be hang'd at home,
Nor go to schole for cunning Art,
Nor learne to play the Diuels part.
Oh do not thou corrupt thy Soule,
With keeping of a cursed Rowle:
Nor blot thy Conscience with the blame
Of a deserued wilfull shame,
Nor seeke by power to oppresse
The Widdow, nor the Fatherlesse.
Nor serue the Proude, nor sooth the Rich,
Nor tread the poore into the ditch.
Nor creepe into an open Eare,
And seeke a silly hart to teare.
Nor looke as bigge as fifteene Beeues,
Nor hang on euery Rascals sleeues.
Nor take delight in euey gawde,
Nor play the Pander, nor the Bawde:
The Iacke, the Iuggler, nor the Iester:
The Hange-man, nor the debter-Rester.
Oh do thou rather wish to die,
Then liue by Beggers miserie.
Doe not thou stalke like to a Steeple,
To ouerlooke a world of people:
Nor creepe and kneele vnto a Thistle,
Nor be at euery Beggers whistle.
Nor vse the trade of Vsurie,
To bring poore men to beggerie.
Nor coozen Chapmen of their wares,
Nor deale vnequally in shares:
Nor promise much, and nought performe,
Nor scorne an euill to reforme.
Nor credite euery idle breath,
Nor seeke the meanest Christians death:
Nor hardly vse a louing Wife,
Nor with a Whore to lead thy life.
Oh be not made a wretched slaue,
To be commaunded by a Knaue:
Nor climbe a mile beyond the Moone,
Nor make the morning after noone:
Nor stoppe thine eares to good aduice,
Nor in thy thoughts to be too nice:
Nor with the Swine to digge the durt,
Nor seeke thine honest neighbours hurt:
Nor fall into a Lunacie,
Nor Herezie, nor Ieloucie:
Nor haue thy paunch and guts too full,
Nor beare a bittle headed skull:
Nor hurt thy Soule for any good,
Nor idly loose a drop of blood.
Nor credite Dreames, nor trust to Hope,
Nor fall within the deadly Rope.
Oh do not thou transforme thy selfe,
Nor play the misbegotten elfe.
Nor rouze thy selfe among thy Bagges,
Nor glorie in thy gaudie Ragges:
Nor set thy loue on too much ease,
Nor be a scowrer of the Seas.
Nor practise craft in any trade,
Nor count a Hackney but a Iade:
Nor builde vp Castles in the aire,
Nor hope in vaine, nor yet despaire.
Nor loue and care not whom, nor why,
Nor trust a Friend before thou trie.
Nor come at euery Cuckoes call,
Nor let a follie fret thy gall.
Nor striue to wrestle with an Oke,
Nor spend away thy Coyne in smoke.
Nor robbe an other of his right,
Nor loose thine owne, for lacke of sight.
Nor let thy Mony goe for winde,
Nor foolishly be wilfull blinde,
Nor pull vp Hearbes, and cherish Weedes,
Nor tittle tattle, more then needes:
Nor keepe thy Mony till it rust,
Nor in thy word to prooue vniust:
Nor foule thy Soule with bloody hands,
Nor hide thy Treasure in the Sandes.
Nor counterfaite a Hand and Seale,
To ouerthrow a Common-weale.
Nor willingly commit offence,
Nor stand in a foule faults defence.
Nor kill a Patient with a Pill,
Nor keepe a Sicke man pining still.
Nor weare a Fether for the winde,
Nor stand and waight til fooles haue dinde.
Nor fleare, and leare, and looke aside,
Nor goe on foote while other ride:
Nor make diuision among friends,
Nor coyne a lie at fingers ends.
Nor take delight to sucke and swill,
Nor be a slaue to wicked will:
Nor foolishly be made a stale,
To loose a Nutt, and get a shale:
Nor tie thee to a wicked Woman,
That will be kind, nor true to no man:
Nor do thou fish for muddie Eeles,
Nor waight vpon a Pack-horse heeles:
Nor be a Iayler to a Thiefe,
Nor barre the needie of reliefe.
Nor liue with an vngodly Shrow,
Nor of a friend, to make a foe.
Nor like a Baby, long for toyes,
Nor sort thy selfe with Girls nor Boyes.
Nor tell thy secrets to a Knaue,
Nor digg vp thy old Graundsirs Graue.
Nor [illeg.] a pettie Benefice,
Nor make a painted sacrifice:
Nor make of Gold as of a God,
Nor be by Villaines ouer-trod.
Nor keepe a Cocke that hath no spurres,
Nor dwell among a sight of Curres.
Nor watch a Moule, a Ratte, a Mouse,
Nor breake into a poore mans house.
Nor like a Chuffe sit in thy Chaire,
Nor play the Fidler in a Faire.
Nor tell no Fortunes, nor no Fables,
Nor feede on crumbs at beggers tables.
Nor breake a iest vpon a friende,
Nor dwell vpon a puddings ende:
Nor whine and cry, I wot not why,
Nor make an idle shew to die.
Oh do not thou befoole thy selfe,
To set thy soule to sale for pelfe:
Nor sigh, and sobbe, and swell, and burst,
To leaue the best, and take the worst.
Do not thou enuie Vertues grace,
Nor seeke true Honour to deface:
Nor play the Rascall with a Rigge,
Nor sownde to see one kill a Pigge:
Nor seeke a Birds-nest in a Bush,
Nor driue the Nightingale to hush:
Nor angle for a hugie Fish,
Nor make a poyson of the dish:
Nor in an Epicurious Feast
To lie, and tumble, like a Beast.
Nor snuffe and snortle like a Horse,
Nor seeke reuenge without remorse.
Nor ioyne with Iewes gainst Christians,
Nor liue with the Philistians.
Nor bragg and crake, and stampe and stare,
Nor come where such ill cattell are.
Nor winde about a Wenches witt,
To teach her how to play the Titt:
Nor, if shee reede thy paradoxe,
Infect her with a pepper Boxe.
Oh let thy backe not be consumde,
Thy Periwigge not be perfumde:
Thy tongue be tipt with tatling lies,
To hide thy spirits miseries.
Nor with despairing sorrow dwell,
To leaue the way to Heauen, for Hell,
But if thou seest, and canst conciue,
How Sathan doth the world deceiue:
That sinne of thee no hold may take,
Thus to thy God, thy prayers make.
Oh my good God, vpon my knees
I begge, let mee be none of these:
But humbly fall vpon my face,
To begge of thy most glorious Grace,
One sparke of Wisedome, to direct
My Soule, the life of thy elect.
Make mee to know thy holy will,
And be obedient to it still.
Make my delight, but in thy Lawes,
And keepe mee from the Diuels clawes.
Make mee to tread the way of trueth,
And honour Age, with gratious Youth:
With reuerence, in thy worde to heare thee,
And in my Soule, to loue and feare thee:
To make thy trueth, my strongest Tower,
And sing thy prayses euery hower.
Oh scale mine eyes, and cleare my sight,
And shew mee that eternall light,
Where Mercies loue may let mee see,
Where all the ioyes of Angels bee:
That I may heare them sing and play,
Vpon their highest Holy day:
And to their Musique now and then,
Mine humble Soule may sing Amen.
Oh lay my Heart vpon my Brest,
And with thy Grace, my Spirit rest,
That all the world within my thought,
May see a worke of Mercie wrought:
Where Grace hath made a glorious fight,
When Sinne and Death, are put to flight.
Oh in thy glorious mercie heare mee,
Let neuer wickednes come neare mee:
But in thy grace such comfort shew mee,
That Sinne may neuer ouerthrow mee:
With thy loue let me rauisht bee,
And long with thine, to be with thee:
Be thou my King, Oh King of Kinges,
Thy holie hand tune my hart stringes:
To sing a new song in thy praise,
To end, in neuer ending dayes:
My Dittie be of thy deare Loue,
Where like the faithfull Turtle Doue,
My Musique may but mourning bee,
Till I thy louelie sight may see:
And Soule and Heart may both reioyce,
When I may heare thy heauenlie voyce.
My Sinnes forgiuen in thy good Grace,
Giue mee thy meanest Seruants place:
Where Fayth & Trueth may still attende thee,
And Loue may neuer more offende thee.
Oh with thy Grace my Heart inspire,
To bring foorth Fruictes of thy desire:
Giue mee thy Peters penitence,
Pauls Fayth, and Iob his Patience:
And Maries Grace, and Iohn his loue,
That in my heart I may approue:
When all these Graces meete in mee,
What ioy my Soule shall haue in thee.
But, Oh my God! my Heart doth ake,
My Soule with trembling feare doth quake,
That Sinne hath brought mee in such plight,
As makes mee ouglie in thy sight.
And I (Oh wretch) am one of those,
Whom thou hast reckoned for thy foes:
And that thy Mercie will not heare mee,
Nor Comfort euer shall come neare mee.
My Prayer turned into sinne,
No Gate of Grace shall enter in:
But all my thoughts all farre amisse,
Shall banisht be from hope of blisse:
And my poore Soule by Sinnes desart,
Condem'd vnto eternall smart.
And yet againe mee thinkes I see,
How thy great Mercie lookes on mee,
And tels me, Faith may be victorious,
While Grace will be in Mercie glorious:
And what true hartes, do truelie proue,
That turne to thee in teares of loue.
In which vnfaigned faithfull teares,
Wherein the wofull spirit weares:
I humbly fall at Mercies feete,
Where Grace and Loue and Glorie meete:
And in the teares of true contrition,
Thus makes my wofull Soules petition.
In mercie looke on mee, deare God,
Forgiue my sinnes, forbeare thy rod:
Behold my griefe, and ease my paine,
And take me to thy Grace againe:
That I may see that bright Sunne shine,
Whose Glorie neuer can decline.
Where I with Simeons ioy may sing,
When I embrace my holy King.
And Sinne may die, and Sorowes cease,
And so my Soule may rest in peace.