Youth's Warning-peice.  
In a true Relation of the woeful Death of William Rogers of Cranbroke in Kent an Apothecary, who refusing all good counsel, and following lewd company, died miserably since Christmas last. 1635.  
To the Tune of Doctor Faustus.  

 
 

WHat mournful ditty, or lamenting verse  
Shall I compose this subject to rehearse?  
It being indeed most doleful to declare,  
Doth wish all youth in time for to beware.   

If it was feigned, or not true indeed,  
It should not in men so much dolour breed:  
Or had it been some fable or old thing,  
It might have passed without much sorrowing,   

But it is true, and too too lately known  
'Twas done, not fare from hence, and clearly shown  
By men, whose credits are well known i'th' City,  
Come then, and listen to my doleful ditty.   

Thus I begin, Will. Rogers was his name,  
His Parents and his Kindred of good fame:  
These gave him education, and good Arts,  
By which he was endued with able parts.   

He an Apothecary was by Trade,  
By which it doth appear he Learning had:  
For none can know the mysteries of that Art,  
Without some knowledge, or some good desert.   

Moreover, he in Chirurgery had skill,  
And practised it with success, & goodwill  
Of many grieved Patients whom he cured  
Of their corrupted sores which they endured.   

His carriage was most mild and temperate,  
By which he love and estimation got:  
He did not take any excessive gains,  
But often gave the poor his time and pains.   

His practice brought him into favour great,  
And caused him some means to gain and get,  
So that he did receive two hundred pound  
By each years practice, as it clear was found.   

His civil Education did impart  
The knowledge of Religion to his heart,  
Whereby he able was account to give,  
How he in Christ by faith alone did live.   

All these were hopeful blossoms in a youth,  
That in their season might good fruits have proved,  
And caused him to have lived in good fame,  
And died in the credit of his house and name.   

But see of this man's life the fatal change,  
When in the world he did begin to range:  
For presently all goddess was forgot,  
His latter course was to his first a blot.   

What pity 'tis that in so fair a face  
Such spots and blemishes should possess a place,  
Or that such good beginnings should be left;  
Or that men should be of such hopes bereft.    

The second part  
to the same tune.  

WE cannot blame Dame Fortune as the cause,  
Nor yet religion which gives better laws,  
Nor yet our Parents, or our Master's care,  
Nor yet accuse a Planet, or a Star.   

All these are free, and clear from any blame,  
'Tis we ourselves that do procure our shame,  
It is our negligence that will not use  
Our gifts aright, but often them abuse.   

So did this young man by lewd courses spend,  
His time and means & stock, which God did send,  
He vainly lavished out in toyish sport,  
Mongst vain companiens which to him resort.   

He left the council of his dearest friend,  
The Pastor of the Parish who did send,  
Directions grave and honest, just, and good,  
All which this young man mightily withstood.   

He did forget his former promise made  
To God, and others, that that sinful trade  
Should quite be left, and that he would put on,  
The practice of the pure Religion.   

But wholly gave himself to wine and drink,  
With company all times, which soon will sink  
A man's estate, the bane and source of ill,  
And doth all goodness and Religion spill.   

Hence he grew careless of his Patients lame,  
Still swilling his carouses down amain,  
Kept company, neglected Church, each time  
Slighted the use of the Sacraments Divine.   

So he grew settled in his sinful track,  
No friendly council could reduce him back:  
But obstinately still he did persist,  
And scornfully all council did resist.   

His Pastor told him he would be so bold,  
To excommunicate him from Christ's fold:  
Which wrought upon his conscience, so that he  
Promised to diverse, a new man to be.   

But sickness Death's bold Sergeant did arrest  
Him, that he failed of what he did protest.  
In which his visitation he exclaimed,  
That Hell was his, and that he sure was damned.   

Visits were made, and council grave was given,  
That yet he might possess a place in Heaven:  
But he still did rave, and strive curse and cry,  
That he should go to Hell immediately.   

Sometimes he blames his sin with some remorse,  
which had brought down Gods heavy rod & curse  
Than he advices others to beware  
Of sin, so even seeming to despair.   

He cries out fearfully that he must go,  
To Hell, the place of misery and woe;  
There to endure all torments, grief and pain,  
Million of million of ages to remain.   

And fearful 'tis to think, that in such wise,  
In raging fury, ends his life and dies.  
We cannot judge of his Eternal state,  
But leave to him, who rules all lives and Fate.   

So you have heard his end, I wish you all  
To take a warning by his fearful fall,  
Of all lewd company, and drinking too,  
Which always are the Harbingers of woe.   

Reject not council, nor God's ordinance scorn,  
Nor yet Church discipline, as men forlorn:  
Fellow your callings diligently still,  
So God shall keep you in your ways from ill.   

God bless our gracious Sovereign Queen and Prince  
With all the royal Progeny, that thence  
Blessings may flow on all our Nobles, and  
For ever prove a blessing to our land.    

If any desire further information touching the manner of this man's Life, sickness, and death, let them read the Sermon Preached at his funeral, which is Printed by Authority.    

London printed for A.K. 1636.   
FINIS.