A pleasant Song made by a Soldier, whose bringing up had been dainty: and partly by those affections of his unbridled youth, is now beaten with his own rod; and therefore termeth this his Repentance, or, the fall of Folly, To an excellent tune, called, Calino,  

 
IN Summer time when Phoebus' rays  
Did cheer each mortal man's delight,  
Increasing of the cheerful days,  
and cutting of the darksome nights:  
When Nature brought forth every thing,  
By just return of April showers,  
To make the pleasant Branches spring  
with sundry sorts of herbs and flowers.   

It was my chance to walk abroad,  
To view Dame Nature's new come brood,  
The pretty Birds did lay on load  
with sugared tunes in every wood:  
The gallant Nightingale did set  
Her speckled breast against a Briar,  
Whose mournful tunes bewail (as yet)  
her brother Tereus false desire.   

The Serpents having cast their coats,  
Lay listening how the Birds did sing,  
The pretty Birds with sugared notes.  
did welcome in the pleasant Spring:  
I drew me to the Gréen-wood side,  
To hear this Country harmony,  
Whereas ere long I had espied  
a woeful man in misery.   

He lay along upon the ground  
And to the Heavens he cast his eye,  
The bordering Hills and Dales resound  
the echoes of his piteous cry:  
He wailing sore, and sighing said,  
Oh Heavens what endless grief have I?  
Why are my sorrows thus delayed?  
come therefore death and let me die.   

When Nature first had made my frame,  
And set me lose when she had done,  
Steps Fortune in that fickle Dame,  
to end what Nature had begun.  
She set my feet upon her knee,  
And blest my tender age with store,  
But in the end she did agree  
to mar what she had made before.  
I could no sooner creep alone:  
But she forsook her fostered child,  
I had no lands to live upon,  
But traced abroad the world so wild.   

At length I fell in company  
With gallant Youths of Mars his train,  
I spent my life in jeopardy,  
and got my labour for my pain:  
I watched on the sieged walls  
In thunder, lightning, rain and snow,  
And oft being shot with powdered Balls,  
whose costly marks are yet to show.   

When all my kindred took their rest  
At home in many a stately Bed,  
The ground and pavement' was my nest,  
my Flask a pillow for my head:  
My meat was such as I could get,  
Of Roots and Herbs of sundry sorts,  
Which did content my hungry mind,  
although my commons were but short.   

My powder served to salt my meat,  
My Murrain for a gilded Cup,  
Whereas such drink as I could get,  
In Spring or Ditch I drank it up:  
My Rapier always by my side,  
My Piece lay charged with match & light,  
Thus many a month I did abide  
to ward all day and watch by night.   

I lived in this glorious vain,  
Until my limbs grew stiff and lame,  
And thus I got me home again,  
regarding no such costly fame:  
When I came home I made a proof  
What friends would do if need should be,  
My nearest kinsfolks looked aloof,  
as though they had forgotten me.   

And as the Owl by chattering charms  
Is wondered at of other Birds,  
So they came wondering at my harms,  
and yield me no relief but words:  
Thus do I want while they have store,  
That am their equal every way,  
Though fortune lent them somewhat more,  
else had I been as good as they.   

Come gentle Death and end my grief,  
Yée pretty Birds ring forth my knell,  
Let Robin redbreast be the chief  
to bury me and so farewell.  
Let no good Soldier be dismayed  
To fight in Field with courage bold,  
Yet mark the words that I have said,  
trust not to friends when thou art old.    

Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright. T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson.   

The doleful Dance and Song of Death; Entitled, Dance after my Pipe. To a pleasant new tune.  

 
CAn you dance the shaking of the Shéets,  
a Dance that every one must do?  
Can you trim it up with dainty swéets,  
and every thing that belongs thereto?  
Make ready then your winding shéets,  
And see how ye can bestir your feet,  
For Death is the man that all must meet.   

Bring away the Beggar and the King,  
and every man in his degree,  
Bring away the old and youngest thing,  
come all to Death and follow me:  
The Courtier with his lofty looks,  
The Lawyer with his learned Books,  
The Banker with his baiting hooks.   

Merchants, have you made your Mart in France,  
in Italy, and all about?  
Know you not that you and I must dance,  
both our heels wrapped in a clout,  
What mean you to make your houses gay,  
And I must take the tenant away,  
And dig for your sake the clods of clay?   

T●●●k you on the solemn Sizes passed,  
〈◊〉 suddenly in Oxfordshire  
I 〈◊〉 and made the judges all aghast,  
〈◊〉 justices that did appear:  
And took both 〈◊〉 and ●aram away,  
And many a worthy man that day,  
And 〈◊〉 their bodies brought to clay,   

Think you that I dare not come to Schools,  
where all the cunning Clerks be most?  
Take I not away both wise and fools?  
and am I not in every Coast?  
Assure yourselves no creature can  
Make death afraid of any man,  
Or know my coming where or when.   

Where be they 't make their leases strong,  
and join about them land to land?  
Do you make account to live so long,  
to have the world come to your hand?  
No foolish noll, for all thy pence,  
Full soon thy soul must needs go hence,  
Then who shall toil for thy defence?   

And you that lean on your Lady's Laps,  
and lay your heads upon their knee,  
Think you for to play with Beautis paps,  
and not to come and dance with me?  
No, fair Lords and Ladies all,  
I will make you come when I do call,  
And find you a Pipe to dance withal.   

And you that are busie-headed fools,  
to brabble for a pelting straw,  
Know you not that I have ready tools  
to cut you from your crafty Law?  
And you that falsely buy and sell,  
And think you make your Markets well,  
Must dance with death wheresoe'er you dwell.   

Pride must have a pretty shéet, I see,  
for properly she loves to dance,  
Come away my wanton wench to me,  
as gallantly as your eye doth glance:  
And all good fellows that slash and swash  
In reds and yellows of revel dash,  
I warrant you need not be so rash.   

For I can quickly cool you all,  
how hot or stout soever you been,  
Both high and low, both great and small,  
I nought do fear your high degree:  
The Ladies fair, the Beldames old,  
The Champion stout, the Soldier bold,  
Must all with me to earthly mould.   

Therefore take time while it is lent,  
Prepare with me yourselves to dance,  
Forget me not, your lives lament,  
I come ofttimes by sudden chance:  
Be ready therefore. watch and pray,  
That when my Minstrel Pipe doth play,  
You may to Heaven dance the way.   
Finis.   

Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright, T. Vere, and W. Gilbertson.