A Friends Advice. In an excellent Ditty, concerning the variable changes in this World.  
To a pleasant new Tune.  
 

WHat if a day or a month or a year,  
crown thy delights,  
With a thousand wished contentings?  
Cannot the chance of a night or an hour  
Cross thy delights,  
with as many sad tormentings?  
Fortunes in their fairest birth,  
are but blossoms dying,  
Wanton pleasures doting mirth,  
are but shadows flying:  
All our joys are but toys,  
idle thoughts deceiving,  
None hath power of an hour,  
in our lives be reading.   

What if a smile, or a beck, or a look,  
Feed thy fond thoughts  
with many a sweet conceiving?  
May not that smile, or that beck, or that look  
tell thee as well  
they are but vain deceiving?  
Why should beauty be so proud,  
in things of no surmounting?  
All her wealth is but a shroud,  
of a rich accounting:  
Then in this repose no bliss,  
which is so vain and idle:  
Beauties flowers have their hours,  
time doth hold the bridle.   

What if the world with allures of her wealth  
Raise thy degree  
to a place of high advancing?  
May not the world by a check of that wealth,  
put thee again  
to a low despiced chancing?  
Whilst the sun of wealth doth shine,  
thou shalt have friends plenty,  
But come want, than they repine,  
not one abides of twenty,  
Wealth and Friends holds and ends,  
all your fortunes rise and fall,  
Up and down rise and frown,  
certain is no state at all.   

What if a grief, or a strain, or a fit,  
Pinch thee with pain,  
or the feeling pangs of sickness?  
Doth not that gripe or that strain or that fit,  
Show thee the form  
of thy own true perfect likeness?  
Health is but a glimpse of joy  
subject to all changes,  
Mirth is but a silly toy,  
which mishap estranges,  
Tell me then, silly man,  
why art thou so weak of wit,  
As to be in jeopardy,  
when thou Mayst in quiet sit?   

Then if all this have declared thine amiss  
take it from me  
as a gentle friendly warning;  
If thou refuse, and good council abuse,  
Thou Mayst hereafter  
dearly buy thy learning:  
All is hazard that we have,  
there is nothing biding,  
Days of pleasure are like streams,  
through fair Meddowe● bliding  
Wealth or woe, time doth go,  
there is no returning▪  
Secret fates guide our ●tates,  
both in mirth and m●urning.   

The second Part, to the same Tune  
 

Men but a blast, or a smoke, or a cloud,  
That in a thought  
or a moment is dispersed:  
Lifes but a span, or a tale, or a word  
that in a trice,  
on sudden is rehearsed:  
Hopes are changed▪ and thoughts are crossed,  
Will nor skill prevaileth  
Though we laugh and live at ease,  
change of thoughts assaileth,  
Though a while fortune smile,  
and her comforts frowneth,  
Yet at length fails her strength,  
and in fine she frowneth.   

Thus are the joys of a year in an hour,  
and of a month,  
in a moment quite expired,  
But in the night with the word of a noise,  
Crossed by the day,  
of an ease our hearts desired:  
Fairest blossoms soonest fade,  
withered foul and rotten,  
And through grief our greatest joys  
quickly are forgotten:  
Seek not then (Mortal men)  
earthly fleeting pleasure,  
But with pain strive to gain  
heavenly lasting treasure.   

Earth to the world, as a man to the earth,  
hath but a point,  
and a point is so●● defaced:  
Flesh to the soul as a flower to the Sun,  
that in a storm  
or a tempest is disgraced:  
Fortune may the body please,  
which is only carnal▪  
But it will the ●oul disease,  
that is still immortal,  
Earthly joys are but toys,  
to the soul's election,  
Worldly grace doth deface,  
Man's divine perfection.   

Fleshly delight to the earth that is flesheth▪  
may be the cause,  
of a thousand sweet contentings;  
But the defaults of a fleshly desire,  
brings to the soul  
many thousand sad tormentings:  
Be not proud presumptuous man,  
sith thou art a point so base,  
Of the least and lowest Element:  
which hath least and lowest place:  
Mark thy fate and thy state,  
which is only earth and dust▪  
And as grass, which alas  
shortly surely perish must.   

Let not the hopes of an earthly desire,  
bar thee the joys  
of an earnest contentation,  
Nor let thy eye on the world be so sixt,  
to hinder thy heart  
from unfeigned recantation:  
Be not backward in that course,  
that may bring thy soul delight,  
Though another way may seem  
far more pleasant to thy sight;  
Do not go, if he says no,  
That knows the secrets of thy mind,  
Follow this thou shalt not miss  
an endless happiness to find.    
FINIS.   

London printed by I. B. for Frrncis Coles.