A new Ballad, Entitled, a warning to youth, Showing the lewd life of a Merchant's son of London, and the misery that at the last he sustained by his riotousness. The tune is, the Lady Darcy.  
 

IN London dwelled a Merchant man  
that lest unto his son,  
A thousand pound in Land a year  
to spend when he was gone:  
With coffers crammed with golden crowns,  
most like a Father kind,  
To have him follow his own steps  
and beat the self same mind.  
Thus every man doth know, doth know  
and his beginning see,  
But none so wise can show can show,  
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,  
sound out such company,  
Which proved his fatal overthrow  
and final misery.  
In gluttony and drunkenness,  
and filthy lechery,  
Of all the sins will soon 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 seed his souls desire.  
Apparelled all like gallant youths,  
in Pages trim attire:  
Their garments were of Crimson silk  
bedecked with lace of gold,  
Their curied hair was white as milk  
most comely to behold:  
He gave then for their cognizance  
a purple bleeding heart;  
In which two silver arrows seemed,  
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,  
O woe to lust and lechery,  
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▪  
But in his heart de●●●d a change  
of wanton pleasure so,  
That day by day he wishes still  
strange women for to know:  
And so discharging of his train,  
and selling of his Land,  
To travel into Country's strange  
he quickly took in hand:  
And into Antwerp speedily,  
thus all afflaunt he goes,  
To see the dainty Flemish girls  
and gallant Dutchland Froes.  
For still quoth he the Dutchland Froes,  
are kind to Englishmen,  
I'll have my pleasure of those girls  
or never come again:  
And being arrived in Antwerp streets,  
he met a lovely Dame,  
That was a Widows daughter dear  
of good report and same.  
Her beauty like the purple Rose  
so glisteren in his eye,  
That ravished with the same, he craved  
her secret company,  
But she like to an honest Maid  
by no means would consent,  
To satisfy his lustful eye,  
as was his false intent.