YOUTH'S LOOKINGLASS, Wherein they may behold the Frailties and Vanities of all things under the Sun. ALSO Seasonable Admonitions and Instructions for every Age and qualification of Mankind in general. Readers who ere you are, you here may find Your own conditions if this book you mind. Printed for J. Williamson. YOUTH'S LOOKINGLASS, Wherein they may behold the frailtyes and vanities of all things under the Sun, etc. ONe pleasant Evening in a shady Grove My thoughts being free from business & from Love I there could see the trees were flourishing On which the pretty birds did sit and sing: And Madam Flora had bedecked each field With fragrant flowers, which did much comfort yield Unto my senses: on the other side Making great sport the pretty Lambs I spied. They leap, they run and from their Dams they stray Then back return, half tired with their play: Well pleased with this under a shady tree Whose well spread branches were my Canopy, I sat me down, considering in what state Of happiness, the Almighty did Create Mankind, who over all things was made Lord, And all things to him comfort do afford: Yet for all this poor man must surely die And leave the world to his posterity; The thoughts of which at last my mind did bend To write man's state from's infancy to's end. First from the Cradle I will contemplate And view the newborn babe who cannot prate; Nor sign can make for what it wants, but cry, Whilst patiented Nurse sits singing Lullaby: Yet for all that it will not be content Until the Breast affords it nourishment, Which having had, sleep locks up its sweet eyes And innocently down the infant lies. In its first state not knowing what you say But sleeps and frowardly cries the time away. Whilst quiet, 'tis a pretty pleasing thing But when untoward it doth disquiets bring: Thus void of sense twelve months are dully spent, The child no pleasure knows, nor Nurse content, But time progreding the child grows amain And now some little sense it doth obtain, Whilst lying in the lap it laughs and smiles Which pretty charms the mother's heart beguiles, It gapes and crows and plays before it stands Grasping the Nurses Bubbies with its hands, Playing with the breasts, being nourished by sleep The pretty boy at length gins to creep About the house, and tumble up and down, Thus 'tis with all, though born to great renown. Years coming on, this pretty wanton fool At three or four years old is sent to schooll, To learn his A B C; poor child! 'tis hard That he of so much play must be debarred: At six or seven years old excuse he'll make If in a fault you chance the Lad to take. Ask him who did it, strait he cries not I, Observe how soon he'll learn to tell a lie. This proves Original sin in all mankind Since our first Parents did the Apple find. At nine or ten he learns to understand His English, and the Bible can command; His Accidence he has at finger's end And with his Schoolfellow seems to contend, For grand precedency in Classic rules And baffles such as are soft headed fools. Then cock a hoop the rest he doth deride Oh who but he; thus enters sin of Pride. Into the teens being entered he grows bold, And scorns by every one to be controlled; He's now ashamed at Push-pin for to play And throws his Cat and Cat-stick quite away: At Nine pins he amongst the biggar crew Consorts himself resolving to pursue Most Manlike Exercises, observing how Young men the Maidens Buss; and finding now His Nature prompt him that he should do so, Ere you can tell whether he'll have beard or no. Ashamed to venture yet he longs to try But fears the Virgin will a kiss deny And check his offers calling of him boy Saying fie fond Lad, you are too young to toy; The thought of this makes him a while forbear Until he's riper by another year. About eighteen the youngster thinks of Love, And fancy of enjoyment doth him move; He casts an Eye upon some sweet faced matd And is by Cupid amorously betrayed. He courts with all the Rhetoric he can, She scornfully denies the new-grown man. His youthful blood most passionately burns, He cannot sleep, but tosses, tumbles, turns. All night in bed; no rest can close his eyes, But cries out Lovely Celia doubt despise Thy Lovers sighs and tears, grant Love again; Oh pity pity me and ease my pain. Thus is he trapped, thus is the youth ensnared Grown up to troubles all mankind's reward. Having past twenty then perhaps he sees The folly of his earthly vanities. Being now full grown in strength he looks about, Desirous for to find new glories out By some Archievement of his own, saying none Can claim descended Honours for his own. Those noble acts my Ancestors have done Are none of mine now they are dead and gone. I must find out some way to magnify My Name, and act such things as cannot die. 'twill nothing me avail to hear men tell My Father's valour none could parallel, And I a coward; no, I have a soul That dares the fury of the Fates control. I'll do such deeds in serving of my King That Christendom of my renown shall ring. I was not born to sleep in women's arms Nor be deluded by their wanton charms. I will out-look their eyes though full of darts, They have no power to wound courageous hearts. Fond puny mortals may perchance submit And I in Nonage when I wanted wit Was one of those, than I could sigh and cry If my proud Mistress did a kiss deny. The more I strived to humour her, the more She slighted me, base damned imperious whore, She captive lead me till more riper years Of blessed discretion made me ashamed of tears. Now rousing up my senses I defy The strongest of their charms and subtlety. Thus speaks the generous youth, whilst in his prime And counts fond Love a childish idle crime. Trumpets and Drums are now his chief delight, They that will honour win must dare to fight. The choicest of his youth thus spent and gone Arriv●d at thirty or at thirty one. He now considers of the time that's past And what's to come, finding youth will not last. He sticks close to his business and keeps home Resolving never more abroad to roam. But turns a Statesman politic and good Assisting now by council not with blood, And being happily in marriage tied Unto a virtuous well descended Bride, Is blessed with children who about him run To ask him blessing every rising sun; Which joys his heart that he should live to see So sweet an issue for posterity. The mother no less joyed but bears a part And gives her benediction from her heart. At forty he consults his interest An hoards up Gold and Silver in his chest, He now bethinks that his prime age is gone And children's marriage time is coming on, His daughters must have portions equal to Their husband's fortunes else Love will not do. The Heirs Estate must not divided be But kept entire for his Posterity. This makes him look about him and contrive If he their settlements chance to survive, How he shall best bestow himself and where, Which the best Climate is and sweetest Air. For now at fifty he gins to find His (once warm) blood to chillness is inclined Blows bore in youth, are now to aches turned, And spirits fainting which with heat once burned; But scorns as you should call him old as yet He'll rather strive beyond his strength to get Himself esteem amongst the younger crew, He tricks and trims yet all this will not do. For sixty comes and bids him now prepare Days of thy life but few and Evil are. A fainting Traveller; a wearied soul Who, days misspent with sorrow, does control. To give good counsel now he does begin, Confessing youthful vanites are sin; Age sees ofttimes too late what should have been Well weighed in youth, and then have been foreseen: Yet not to make a grand mistake in this To think that Youth and Age suitable is; No that would make all man, no youth at all; We know man has a rise before his fall: Our childhood ought not to be counted vain With children, childish actions will remain. Till riper years give summons to betake Ourselves to actions that may happily make. Threescore is peevish yet would be thought wise He pleads antiquity, and will despise All youthful contradictions; mark ye then How dare you prate (quoth he) young Rascals when My age you do consider? what I have done This forty, fifty years, it is well known Was bravely done, not to be held in scorn By beardless boys that were but lately born. I never was no blockhead, no not I, But sprightly from my infancy. The very thoughts of my past youthful age How brisk, how free, how nimble to engage Each Gamester, and how well I played my part, The thoughts of this, I say, revives my heart, And heightens so my senses, I could fain Shake off Old Age, and once grow young again. But man, like to a flower which from the earth First springs a little, and from thence takes birth: Then shoots and slips up higher, till at length It's tender stalk gins to gather strength. Then Blooming ripe, its glory forth doth spread, A fragrant blossom from its fruitful head, So flourishes a time, then snatched away By , or else do whither and decay. Just so it is with Man in every state Whom heaven's great King did from the earth create, First Infant, than a Youth, then full grown man Then down the hill he goes do what he can. When old age comes, this life must be forsaken And man return from whence he first was taken. Now he bethinks him of his latter end, And vows in prayers his little time to spend; And sitting by the fire he does relate Unto his children all his former state: What worthy deeds he has done in youthful days, How that above some others he got praise; This to my comfort now at last I find, To all I ever bore an honest mind. Be valiant now my boys keep up my name, To my renown add everlasting fame; Let no vile woman crop your blooming years, Believe 'em not though they shed thousand tears: But oh the Gout, the Palsy shakes me sore, Aches and pains do make me cry and roar; Thus Time doth handle him, for none he stays But hastens on till man fulfils his days. Now weary, Seaventy draws upon his head, And bids him now prepare himself for bed: That manly face once ruddy, fresh and clear, Is now made pale and wrinkles do appear Strength fails and those strong Nerves which scorned to yield. That once made death to fly i'th' open field, Are now grown feeble; now he's fain to creep, And once strong eyes, with rheum now daily weep, One hand on staff another on the wall Must guide him now, or else the man must fall: He stoops down low, and reverence gives to earth From whence mankind derived his first birth, Which makes divinest Oracle out plain From dust I came, to dust must turn again. Now he complains, my life is burdensome, Oh gentle Death I now entreat thee come! Come out I prithee, life's untwifted thread All worldly joys are gone, each part is dead; This bed of mine is all the world I have, Nor can I find out rest till in the grave. My senses now decay, I childish grow I find no pleasure in this world below, My friends do visit me but all in vain, there's none can ease me of my cruel pain. Vain world adieu my glass is almost run My time will set before the setting Sun: Welcome cold death I do not fear to die My soul is soaring now to Heaven high. Thus have I run through man's troubled state, From's infancy unto his latest fate, Here is the infant in his swaddling clout The prattling boy that now can run about, The Lad, the Youth, the Stripling and the Man, who one and twenty now look over can, From thence to thirty, forty, fifty then, They are accounted pretty ancient men. Then sixty comes, and some do seaventy gain, But those last days are spent in grief and pain, Threescore and ten as David doth you tell Shall man's days be, then to this world farewel. A seasonable Admonition to mankind of every Age and every Condition. ANd first to youth that's to discretion grown Let him take heed lest he be overthrown, By bad examples gained from riper years And years with Grace not seasoned, Vice appears More ripe and subtle, readier to decoy The imitating, too apt, beardless boy. You that to twenty are arrived, your prime Take my advice use well your strength and time. For oft you find the Axe with fatal stroke Before the shrub cuts down the sturdy Oak. You that full thirty years live to enjoy Seek wisdom now, and done't your time destroy With foolish childish actions, Time invites That thou shouldst bid adieu to Youth's delights, At forty let thy care and industry Be to enrich thy homebred family, Taking an honest course to lay up store, That none of thine hereafter may be poor: The rest of all thy days (freed from the cares Of this vain world) give to thy God in Prayers. That he may pardon thy offences all Both actual crimes and sin Original. If with a contrite heart, and lift up eyes Thou prayest to Heaven, he want thy prayers despise All men must die, but no man knows the time Some in their infancy, same in their prime. Some live until they childish grow again But those their latter days are grief and pain. Then happy's he that doth make God his friend For such there's Crowns and Kingdoms in The End.