THE YOUNGMAN'S VICTORY Over the POWER of the DEVIL. Or, Strange and wonderful News from the City of LONDON;  
 
Being a full and true Relation of a Virtuous Youngman, who being but Fifteen years of Age, living in the Parish of St. Giles', was wonderfully tempted by the Devil: Discovering the Baits of the Devil, and how he followed him from place to place, wheresoever he did go, still tempting to leave his School, and to fly from Godliness, and to follow him, and he would furnish him with Bags of Gold and Silver, promsing to show him all the Pleasures and Happiness that this World could afford, if he would but agree to follow his ways and take his Counsel. But this Youth having a steadfast Faith in Christ, made the Devil this. Answer: Be gone from me thou wicked and infernal Spirit, and tempt me no more, for I am sure I shall enjoy all the Pleasures and Felicties that Heaven can afford, amongst all the Angels and Saints in Christ; therefore be gone from me thou wicked Deluder of poor Souls: I value not thy Bags of Gold and Silver, nor all the Pleasures thou canst give me in this World, when thou, Like a false deluding Serpent, wouldst have me to burn in Hell flames with thee. Where upon the Youth immediately fell down upon his Knees, praving to Almighty God, that he might be able to overcome the Wiles and Temptations of the subtle Deceiver.  


The Subtle Tempter fitteth his Temptations,  
To the Degrees of Ages Inclinations.   

1.  
The State of Chiildhood he Allures with Play,  
To cast both Book and Learning quite away.   

2.  
When Youth arrive unto a Manly Stature,  
He baits his Hook after another Nature:  
Women, Wine, Music, are the charms he finds  
From Virtues Studies to attack their minds   

3.  
When Future State Man cast His thoughts upon,  
And towards Heaven would be jogging on,  
Satan before him Worldly Treasures throw,  
To make the Heaven-bound Pilgrim move more flow.   

4.  
But if this fail, another cause he'll try,  
And lets his unrelenting Flames to fly  
Stand fast by Faith left thou be over thrown,  
The persevering Christian gains the Crown.    


The Schoolmaster and Scholar.   

The Virtuous Student   

The Holy Pilgrim travelling to the New Jerusalem.   

The Christian armed against SATAN.   
N● now 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Way, and strait is the Gate, that leadeth unto Life.  

Satan tempteth him to neglect Learning; and follow Gaming   

SATAN tempteth him from his Study to evil company.   

Satan tempteth him with Bag of Gold and Silver.   

Satan would tear him, but he is bound by Hell-flames.    
Satan. 
WHither away young man? speak, let me know:  
That thee and I may like Companions go,  
Walk not so fast, but keep thou place with me,  
And I'll conduct thee to Felicity.  Young man. 
My meaning is to thee I plainly tell  
To shun those Crooked paths that lead to Hell:  
For I desire to come to Heaven at last  
And that's the reason why I go so fast.  Sa. 
Pish, talk no more of that, but tell me why  
Thou seemest not glad of my good Company?  
Come, if thou canst but take delight in me  
I shall be pleased with thy good Company.  Y. 
But I'm a afraid that thou wilt me entice  
To fly from Virtue and to follow Vice,  
Which may my poor immortal Soul ensnare  
Of which I ought to take a special care;  Sa. 
'Slight not my kindness for I do protest  
I'll thee conduct to everlasting rest;  
What canst then mere desire, or ask of me?  
I'll be thy Guide to blessed Eternity.  Y. 
What thou pretends so, should I believe  
I fear at last thou wouldst my Soul deceive,  
For those who do most kindness pretend  
Do often prove deceitful in the end.  Sa. 
Be not so rash my Youth, but grave and wise  
With Reason and Discretion still advice,  
Believe my words and do not think I jest  
When as I say my foot-paths are the best;  
Do not mistake me, for 'tis I alone  
Can make thee happy, (youth) and there is none  
Can more advantage thee, they are but stories  
That they than hearknest too, call endless Glories.  
I say believe me, for I can display  
Truth's figures, better by a deal than they;  
It lies within my power to deal with you  
As I myself shall think most fit todo:  
'tis I can make the Rich, or make the Poor  
And send such pains thou canst not well endure:  
Or I can Crown thee with such joys that thou  
Shalt hug my Charms, what fairest thou to me now?  Y. 
Tempter give over, thy crafty Wiles forbear  
Such frothy promises cannot ensnare,  
Nor win me to thy false deluding will;  
With what thou seem'st to Cure, thou meanest to kill:  
build my Faith on a foundation sure  
Firm as a Rock, and ever will endure.  Sa. 
What! dost thou count me a Perfidious wretch  
That seek by crafty wiles thy Soul to catch?  
Alas! what profit can it be to me  
By wronging such a silly youth as thee.  
These empty thoughts, me thinks must needs presage  
And show the weakness of thy tender age:  
Thy time and breath thou idly hast misspent  
And for the same be sorry and Repent.  Y. 
Oh happy word that thou hast now expressed,  
Repentance is the Highway to be Blest;  
Deceitful Wretch begun, I cannot brook  
Thy Golden Baits, nor yet thy Silver Hook:  
Tho' thou pretendest to be good and wise,  
I fear thou art the father of all lies,  
Come for to try if thou canst me deceive  
As thou in Paradise betrayd'st Eve.  S. 
Well, if thou wilt not my persuasions mind,  
'twill be your loss you in the end will find,  
For my part, I 〈◊〉 so indifferent,  
That losing thee I shall not much repent;  
Take my instructions once I say again,  
Lest of thy folly thou too late complain:  
Say: shall I call thee mine, that thou mayst be  
For ever blest with immortality?  Y. 
'Tis not thy charming tongue that can prevail  
Over my armed ●oul thou dost assail;  
Gods Holy Word I'll strive for to fulfil,  
And his Commands shall be my Bias still;  
'tis not thy promises that I believe,  
Nor painted joys wherewith thou wouldst deceive;  
'Tis not the Venom of thy Poisoned Dart  
Can hurt or penetrate my tender heart,  
Religion is my Buckler and my Shield,  
It lies not in thy power to make me yield,  
The Paths are straight in which I ought to run,  
Some use the broad ways till they are undone,  
And those that Virtue leave to follow Vice,  
Themselves bereave of Blessed Paradise.  S. 
Plead not Religion, for I dare maintain  
That what thou seekest for is all in vain;  
And let me tell you, 'tis not right nor just  
For to condemn me e'er you try or trust;  
Observe my Actions, mind but my design,  
And in the end the profit will be thine;  
Why to each other should we be so strange?  
Be ruled by me, we hearts will interchange.  Y. 
Thou sayst that thou art good, but if thou be,  
Why dost thou strive thus to entangle me?  
My Conscience bids me tell thee (when thou criest  
thou'rt great, and good, and real) that thou liest;  
If thou wert so, why dost thou strive to bring  
Me to destructive, poor and helpless thing?  
What Charity can seem in thee to shine,  
Or lodge within a Breast so cursed as thine?  
Heaven's help I will implore, then shall I be  
From thee and all thy Stratagems most free.  
Lord let him not conjure me by his Charms,  
Whose courtefies are nothing less thaa harms,  
Do thou protect me, I shall be secure  
From his fierce on-sets that would me allure,  
Give me thy Grace, then shall I happy be,  
And o'er Temptation get the Victory.  S. 
What, still deny! will notihng thee engage  
For to escape the fury of my rage;  
Thou'lt pull upon thee horror and distress,  
Till thou criest out that thou art pitiless,  
And none shall come to ease thee of thy grief,  
Nor shall thy mourning yield to thee relief,  
I will afflict thee with such Judgements sore,  
That thou in vain my pity shall implore.  Y. 
What tho' the Springtide of thy fierce desire;  
Flow to the height, yet still my heart aspires  
To Blessed Glory, where th● Angels sings,  
Great Hallelujahs to the King of Kings:  
Thou Soul-deceiver my heart yields no place  
But (no 〈…〉ke) I scorn thee to thy race;  
Thy well-dyed Coloars, which thy Art prepares,  
Thy impudence sufficiently declares;  
Now batter on, for I do fear thee nor,  
My armed Soul doth fear no Canonshot.  S. 
If thou dost move my anger, thou wilt find  
What 'tis to move a Friend that would be kind:  
Haves not sought thee both by night and day  
To go to bliss?  Y. 
The quite contrary way.  
S. Have I not promised all hairs can desire  
To save thy Soul?  Y. 
No, no, thou art a Liar  
S. Did I not promise to thee to be just?  Y. 
But who is so mad in thee to put their trust  
S. Did I not promise that thou shouldst be wise?  Y. 
Through grace I did thy promises despise.  
S. Did I not promise to increase thy store?  
Y Thou art a Liar, I replied before.  
S. Did I not promise thee Eternal bliss?  Y. 
But who can give that which is none of his.  
S. I by fair terms has laboured tho' in vain?  Y. 
That which I hope thou never wilt obtain.  
S. But what if I should threaten thee with grief?  Y. 
To Heaven I'd fly, and there should find relief.  
S. Well then I'll leave thee since it is in vain  
To strive to get that which I would obtain,  
At my departure will give thee a Curse,  Y. 
And if thou dost I shall be ne'er the worse:  
Satan be gone, for it is in vain to think  
Whom Christ protects that thou canst cause to sink.  
S. Why dost thou bid me go that fain would bless  
Thy Soul with everlasting Happiness?  
Come let's agree, and lend to me a smile,  
That never sought thy Soul for to beguile.  Y. 
Thou art, and ever wert a great Deceiver,  
Striving to couquer every Just Believer;  
And He will prove a Saviour at the last,  
Who through His Grace in Chains doth keep thee fast.  
S. It is my kindness, and not thy desert,  
That makes me thus in Peace from thee to part;  
Think not that I did seek thy overthrow,  
I sought the good, tho' thou didst say me no,  Y. 
I value not thy kindness, but desire  
That God would save me from Eternal Fire;  
So Satan now be gone, for I do trust,  
After this Life, to live among the just,  
Where thou wert once, but by thy cursed Pride,  
Eternal Misery did thee betid.  
FINIS.    

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball near the Bear Tavern in Pie-corner.