Oh foule eclipser of that fayre sun-shine, Which is int.i.tled Beauty in the best, Making that mortall, which is els divine, That staines the fayre which women steeme not least: Get thee to h.e.l.l againe, from whence thou art, And leave the center of a woman's hart.

Ah be not staind, sweet boy, with this vilde spot, Indulgence daughter, mother of Mischaunce; A blemish that doth every beauty blot, That makes them loath'd, but never doth advaunce Her clyents, fautors, friends, or them that love her, And hates them most of all, that most reprove her.

Remember age, and thou canst not be prowd, For age puls downe the pride of every man; In youthfull yeares by Nature tis allowde To have selfe-will, doo Nurture what she can; Nature and Nurture once together met, The soule and shape in decent order set.

Pride looks aloft, still staring on the starres, Humility looks lowly on the ground; Th' one menaceth the G.o.ds with civill warres, The other toyles till he have Vertue found.

His thoughts are humble, not aspiring hye, But Pride looks haughtily with scornefull eye.

Humillity is clad in modest weedes, But Pride is brave and glorious to the show; Humillity his friends with kindnes feedes, But Pride his friends in neede will never know, Supplying not their wants, but them disdaining, Whilst they to pitty never neede complayning.

Humillity in misery is reliev'd, But Pride in neede of no man is regarded; Pitty and Mercy weepe to see him griev'd, That in distresse had them so well rewarded; But Pride is scornd, contemnd, disdaind, derided, Whilst Humblenes of all things is provided.

Oh then be humble, gentle, meeke, and milde, So shalt thou be of every mouth commended; Be not disdainfull, cruell, proud, sweet childe, So shalt thou be of no man much condemned: Care not for them that vertue doo despise; Vertue is loathde of fooles, lovde of the wise.

O faire boy, trust not to thy beauties wings, They cannot carry thee above the sunne: Beauty and wealth are transitory things, For all must ende that ever was begunne.

But Fame and Vertue never shall decay, For Fame is toombles, Vertue lives for aye.

The snow is white, and yet the pepper 's blacke, The one is bought, the other is contemned: Pibbles we have, but store of jeat we lacke, So white comparde to blacke is much condemned.

We doo not praise the swanne because shees white, But for she doth in musique much delite.

And yet the silver-noted nightingale, Though she be not so white, is more esteemed; Sturgion is dun of hew, white is the whale, Yet for the daintier dish the first is deemed: What thing is whiter than the milke-bred lilly?

That knowes it not for naught, what man so silly?

Yea, what more noysomer unto the smell Than lillies are? What's sweeter then the sage?

Yet for pure white the lilly beares the bell, Till it be faded through decaying age.

House-doves are white, and oozels blacke-birds bee, Yet what a difference in the taste we see?

Compare the cow and calfe with ewe and lambe, Rough hayrie hydes with softest downy fell; Hecfar and bull with weather and with ramme, And you shall see how far they doo excell; White kine with blacke, blacke coney-skins with gray, Kine nesh and strong, skins deare and cheape alway.

The whitest silver is not alwaies best, Lead, tynne, and pewter are of base esteeme; The yellow burnisht gold that comes from th' East, And West, of late invented, may beseeme The worlds ritch treasury, or Mydas eye; The ritch mans G.o.d, poore mans felicitie.

Bugle and jeat with snow and alablaster I will compare; white dammasin with blacke; Bullas and wheaton plumbs, to a good taster The ripe red cherries have the sweetest smacke: When they be greene and young, th' are sowre and naught; But being ripe, with eagernes th' are baught.

Compare the wyld cat to the brownish beaver, Running for life, with hounds pursued sore, When huntsmen of her pretious stones bereave her, Which with her teeth sh' had bitten off before; Restoratives and costly curious felts Are made of them, and rich imbroydred belts.

To what use serves a peece of crimbling chalke?

The agget stone is white, yet good for nothing: Fie, fie, I am asham'd to heare thee talke, Be not so much of thine owne image doating: So faire Narcissus lost his love and life; Beautie is often with itselfe at strife.

Right diamonds are of a russet hieu, The brightsome carbuncles are red to see too; The saphyre stone is of a watchet blue, To this thou canst not chuse but soone agree to: Pearles are not white but gray, rubies are red: In praise of blacke what can be better sed?

For if we doo consider of each mortall thing That flyes in welkin, or in water swims, How everie thing increaseth with the spring, And how the blacker still the brighter dims: We cannot chuse, but needs we must confesse, Sable excels milk-white in more or lesse.

As for example, in the christall cleare Of a sweete streame, or pleasant running river, Where thousand formes of fishes will appeare, Whose names to thee I cannot now deliver; The blacker still the brighter have disgrac'd, For pleasant profit and delicious taste.

Salmon and trout are of a ruddie colour, Whiting and dare is of a milk-white hiew; Nature by them perhaps is made the fuller, Little they nowrish, be they old or new: Carp, loach, tench, eeles, though black and bred in mud, Delight the tooth with taste, and breed good blud.

Innumerable be the kindes, if I could name them, But I a shepheard and no fisher am: Little it skils whether I praise or blame them, I onely meddle with my ew and lamb: Yet this I say that blacke the better is, In birds, beasts, frute, stones, flowres, herbs, mettals, fish.

And last of all, in blacke there doth appeare Such qualities as not in yvorie; Black cannot blush for shame, looke pale for feare, Scorning to weare another livorie.

Blacke is the badge of sober modestie, The wonted weare of ancient gravetie.

The learned sisters sute themselves in blacke, Learning abandons white and lighter hues; Pleasure and pride light colours never lacke, But true religion doth such toyes refuse: Vertue and gravity are sisters growne, Since blacke by both, and both by blacke are knowne.

White is the colour of each paltry miller, White is the ensigne of each common woman; White is white vertues for blacke vyces piller, White makes proud fooles inferiour unto no man: White is the white of body, blacke of minde, Vertue we seldome in white habit finde.

Oh, then be not so proud because th' art fayre, Vertue is onely the ritch gift of G.o.d: Let not selfe-pride thy vertues name impayre, Beate not greene youth with sharpe repentance rod: A fiend, a monster, a mishapen divel; Vertues foe, vyces friend, the roote of evill.

Apply thy minde to be a vertuous man; Avoyd ill company, the spoyle of youth; To follow vertues lore doo what thou can, Whereby great profit unto the ensuth: Reade bookes, hate ignorance, the foe to art, The damme of errour, envy of the hart.

Serve Jove upon thy knees both day and night, Adore his name above all things on earth; So shall thy vowes be gracious in his sight, So little babes are blessed in their birth: Thinke on no worldly woe, lament thy sin, For lesser cease, when greater griefes begin.

Sweare no vaine oathes, heare much, but little say, Speake ill of no man, tend thine owne affaires; Bridle thy wrath, thine angrie mood delay, So shall thy minde be seldome cloyd with cares: Be milde and gentle in thy speech to all, Refuse no honest gaine when it doth fall.

Be not beguild with words, prove not ungratefull, Releeve thy neighbour in his greatest need, Commit no action that to all is hatefull, Their want with welth, the poore with plentie feed: Twit no man in the teeth with what th' hast done; Remember flesh is fraile, and hatred shunne.

Leave wicked things, which men to mischiefe move, Least crosse mis-hap may thee in danger bring: Crave no preferment of thy heavenly Jove, Nor anie honor of thy earthly king: Boast not thyselfe before th' Almighties sight, Who knowes thy hart, and anie wicked wight.

Be not offensive to the peoples eye, See that thy praiers harts true zeale affords, Scorne not a man that's falne in miserie, Esteeme no tatling tales, no babling words; That reason is exiled alwaies thinke, When as a drunkard rayles amidst his drinke.

Use not thy lovely lips to loathsome lyes, By craftie meanes increase no worldly wealth; Strive not with mightie men (whose fortune flies), With temp'rate diet nourish wholesome health: Place well thy words, leave not thy frend for gold; First trie, then trust, in ventring be not bold.

In Pan repose thy trust; extoll his praise, (That never shall decay, but ever lives): Honor thy parents (to prolong thy dayes), Let not thy left hand know what right hand gives: From needie men turne not thy face away, Though charitie be now yclad in clay.

Heare shepheards oft (thereby great wisdome growes), With good advice a sober answere make: Be not remoov'd with every winde that blowes, (That course doo onely sinfull sinners take): Thy talke will shew thy fame or els thy shame; (A pratling tongue doth often purchase blame.)

Obtaine a faithfull frend that will not faile thee, Think on thy mother's paine in her child-bearing; Make no debate, least quickly thou bewaile thee, Visit the sicke with comfortable chearing: Pittie the prisner, helpe the fatherlesse, Revenge the widdowes wrongs in her distresse.

Thinke on thy grave, remember still thy end, Let not thy winding-sheete be staind with guilt; Trust not a fained reconciled frend, More than an open foe (that blood hath spilt): (Who tutcheth pitch, with pitch shalbe defiled), Be not with wanton companie beguiled.

Take not a flattring woman to thy wife, A shameles creature, full of wanton words, (Whose bad, thy good, whose l.u.s.t will end thy life, Cutting thy hart with sharpe two edged knife): Cast not thy minde on her whose lookes allure, But she that shines in truth and vertue pure.

Praise not thyselfe, let other men commend thee; Beare not a flattring tongue to glaver anie; Let parents due correction not offend thee; Rob not thy neighbor, seeke the love of manie; Hate not to heare good counsell given thee, Lay not thy money unto usurie.

Restraine thy steps from too much libertie, Fulfill not th' envious mans malitious minde; Embrace thy wife, live not in lecherie; Content thyselfe with what fates have a.s.signde: Be rul'd by reason, warning dangers save; True age is reverend worship to thy grave.

Be patient in extreame adversitie, (Mans chiefest credit growes by dooing well).

Be not high-minded in prosperitie; Falshood abhorre, no lying fable tell.

Give not thyselfe to sloth, (the sinke of shame, The moath of time, the enemie to fame).

This leare I learned of a bel-dame Trot, (When I was yong and wylde as now thou art), But her good counsell I regarded not, I markt it with my eares, not with my hart.

But now I finde it too-too true (my sonne), When my age-withered spring is almost done.

Behold my gray head, full of silver haires, My wrinckled skin, deepe furrowes in my face, Cares bring old age, old age increaseth cares; My time is come, and I have run my race: Winter hath snow'd upon my h.o.a.rie head, And with my winter all my joyes are dead.

And thou love-hating boy, (whom once I loved), Farewell, a thousand-thousand times farewell; My teares the marble-stones to ruth have moved; My sad complaints the babling ecchoes tell: And yet thou wouldst take no compa.s.sion on mee, Scorning that crosse which love hath laid upon mee.

The hardest steele with fier doth mend his misse, Marble is mollifyde with drops of raine; But thou (more hard than steele or marble is), Doost scorne my teares, and my true love disdaine, Which for thy sake shall everlasting bee, Wrote in the annalls of eternitie.