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.  
To the tune of the Lord Darley.  
IN London dwelled a Merchant man,  
that left unto his Son,  
A thousand pound in Land a year,  
to spend when he was gone:  
With coffer crambd with golden crowns  
most like a Father kind.  
To have him follow his own steps,  
and bear the selfsame 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 clozed in his grave.  
But this his wild and wanton son,  
his mind to lewdness gave.  
And being but of tender years.  
found out such company,  
Which proved his fatal overthrow,  
and final misery.  
In gluttonny and drunkenness,  
he daily took delght,  
And still in Strmpets' company,  
he spent the silent night:  
Forgetting quite that 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 feed his foul desire,  
Apparelled all like gallant youths  
in Pages trim attire.  
Their garments were of Crimson silk,  
bedecked with lace of gold,  
Their curled hair was white as milk,  
most comely to be hold.  
He gave them 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.  
Oh 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 repent not at all,  
so wilful was his mind,  
He could not see his infamy,  
for sin had made him blind.  
But in his heart desir'd a change  
of wanton pleasures 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 aflaunt 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 Widow's daughter dear,  
of good report and fame.  
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 fall intent,  
A hundred days he wholly spent.  
as many nights in vain,  
As many angels he consumed,  
Her maidenhead to gain.  
But nothing he prevailed at all,  
until that Satan's aid,  
And cursed counsel helping him,  
for to deflower this maid.  
For like a lustful Lecher he,  
found such convenient time,  
That he enforced her to drink,  
till she was drunk with wine,  
And being overcharged with wine,  
as Maidens heads be meake:  
He ravished her there, when that she  
could no resistance make.  
For being senseless there she lost  
her sweet virginity,  
Which she had kept full twenty years,  
with great severity,  
Therefore good Virgins take good heed  
lest you be thus beguiled.  
When Wine is settled in your brain,  
you may be got with Child.  
And mark, I pray what then befell,  
unto this modest Dame:  
When she recovered her lost sense  
and knew of her defame,  
In pining grief, she languished long.  
like Philomela by night  
And would not come for very shame,  
in honest Maidens sight:  
Her womb at last began to swell,  
her Babe received life:  
And being neither Widow nor Maid,  
nor yet a married Wife,  
Did wish that she had ne'er been borne.  
but in her Cradle died.  
Then Angels at the gate of Heaven,  
had crowned her Virgin bright.  
This Babe that breedeth in my womb,  
(quoth she) shall ne'er be borne,  
Nor called a bastard by such wives,  
that hold such love in scorn:  
For I a Strumpet in disgrace,  
though one against my will,  
Before I will so shame my friends,  
my dear life's blood I'll spill.  
For as with wine I was deceived  
and made a vicious Dame,  
So will I wash away with Wine  
my scar et spots of shame.  
Then drinking up her burning Wine,  
she yielded up her breath,  
By which likewise the unborn Babe,  
was scalded unto death.  
Her Mother falling on her knees  
to heaven did cry and call,  
If ever Widow's curse quoth she,  
on mortal man did fall,  
Then say, Amen to mine O Lord  
that he may never thrive.  
That was the cause of this mischance,  
but rot away alive.  
His nails from off his fingers dropped,  
his eyes from out his head.  
His toes they rooted from his feet,  
before that he was dead,  
His tongue that had false-sworne so oft,  
to compass his desire  
Within his mouth doth glow and burn,  
like coals of sparkling fire:  
And thus in torment in his sin,  
this wicked Caitiff did,  
Whose hateful Carks after death.  
in earth could not abide,  
But in the maws of Carrion Crows,  
and Ravens made a Tomb,  
A vengeance just on those that use  
on such vile sins presume:  
For Widow's curses have full oft:  
been felt by mortal wights,  
And for oppressed Widows wrongs,  
still heavenly Angels fights:  
For when King Henry the 6 by force  
was murdered in the Tower,  
And his fair Queen Widow mad,  
by Crooke-backt Richard's power:  
She so exclaimed to the heavens,  
for to revenge that deed,  
That they might die in such like sort,  
which caused him to bleed  
Her curses so prevailed God wots,  
that every one was slain,  
Or murdered by ●ie cruel hands,  
not one there did remain.  
Both Crookebackt Richard, & his mates  
Lord Loue●… and Buckingam,  
With many more did feel her curse  
which needless are to name  
For widows wrongs still pierce the gate  
of God's celestial Throne,  
And heaven itself will still revenge  
oppressed widow's moan,  
Take heed take heed, you wanton youths,  
take heed by this mishap:  
Lest for your lust and lechery,  
you be caught in a trap.  
Leave off your foul abuses  
you show to maid and Wives.  
And by this wanton Merchant's fall,  
learn how to mend your lives.   
FINIS.  

Printed by the Assigns of Thomas Symcocke.