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In every place whereas I came,

Both I and my sweet penny
Got entertainment in the same,

And got the love of many,
Both tapsters, cooks, and vintners fine,

With other jovial friends of mine,
Will pledge my health in beer or wine,

But God a mercy penny.

Good fellows company I used,

As also honest women,
The painted drabs I still refus'd,

And wenches that are common ;
Their luring looks I do despise,

They seem so loathsome in my eyes, Yet one a project did devise

To gull me of my penny.

One evening as I past along,

A lass with borrow'd hair
Was singing of a tempting song,

Kind Sir, quoth she, draw near,
But he that bites this rotten crab,

May after chance to catch the scab, No pandar, bawd, nor painted drab

Shall gull me of a penny. VOL. I.


But curled hair and painted face

I ever have refrained,
All those that get their living base,

In heart I have disdained,
My conscience is not stain'd with pitch,

No tempting tongue shall me bewitch, I'll make 'no punck nor pandar rich,

I'll rather keep my penny.

Yet will I never niggard be,

While I remain in earth,
But spend my money frolickly

In friendship, love, and mirth;
I'll drink my beer, I'll pay my score,

And eke dispense some of my store,
And to the needy and the poor,

I'll freely give my penny.

Thus to conclude as I began

I wholly am inclin'd,
Wishing that each true hearted man,

A faithful friend may find :
You that my verses stay to hear,

Draw money for to buy me beer, The price of it is not too dear,

’T will cost you but a penny.




A Warning to Youth, shewing the lewd life of a

Marchant's Sonne of London, and the miserie that at the last he sustained by his notorious


To the tune of Lord Darley,

[From a black letter copy printed for the Assigns of


In London dwelt a merchant man,

That left unto his son
A thousand pounds in land a year,

To spend when he was gone :

With coffers cramm’d with golden crowns,

Most like a father kind,
To have him follow his own steps,

And bear the self same mind.

Thus every man doth know, doth know,

And his beginning see, But none so wise can shew, can shew,

What will his ending be.

No sooner was his father dead,

And closed in his grave,
But this his wild and wanton son,

His mind to lewdness gave.

And being but of tender years

Found out such company, Which prov'd his fatal overthrow,

And final misery.

In gluttony and drunkenness

He daily took delight,
And still in strumpet's company.

He spent the silent night,

Forgetting quite that drunkenness,

And filthy lechery, Of all the sins will soonest bring . A man to misery.

Within the seas of wanton love,

His heart was drowned so deep, A night he could not quietly

Without strange women sleep.

And therefore kept them secretly

To feed his foul desire, Apparrell’d all like gallant youths

In pages' trim attire.

Their garments were of crimson silk,

Bedeckt with cloth of gold, Their curled hair was white as milk,

Most comely to behold.

He gave them for their cognizance

A purple bleeding heart, in which two silver arrows seem'd

The same in twain to part.

Thus secret were his wanton sports,

Thus private was his pleasure, Thus harlots in the shape of men,

Did waste away his treasure.

Oh, woe to lust and treachery !

Oh, woe to such a vice! That buys repentance all too late ;

And at too dear a price,

Yet he repented not at all,

So wilful was his mind, He could not see his infamy,

For sin had made him blind.

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