A Song made of Nothing.

Yet he that doth read, or heare it shall find,
Something of nothing to pleasure his mind.
To a dainty New tune.
SOme men of nothing doe matters endite.
& some men of small things large volumes doe write,
But if you will giue me leaue I will recite
A song made of nothing.
He that has nothing may soonest spend all,
And he thats exalted may haue a downe-fall,
And he that is weakest may goe to the wall,
But I will say nothing.
He that presumeth a Gallant to be,
And spends more in one yeare then he gets in thrée,
Shall beg hauing wasted his Patrimony,
But I will say nothing.
He that has nothing, no credit shall haue,
Although he be vertuous, he's counted a knaue,
Among roaring Gallants that goe fine and braue,
Cause he can spend nothing.
He that delights in Cards and in Dice,
And spends his reuenues in such idle vice,
Shall méet with lewd company him to intice,
Till he be worth nothing.
He that hath nothing, with troubles beset,
Will steale or doe something a liuing to get.
But if he be caught in the hangmans net,
His life is worth nothing.
He that hath nothing, can nothing possesse,
And he that hath little may looke to haue lesse,
But much want and sorrow doth daily oppresse
the man that hath nothing.
He that will be a good husband indéed,
That vnto his businesse doth goe with good héed,
Shall still haue sufficient to serue him at néed,
And alwayes want nothing.
He that is maried vnto a good wife,
Shall liue in content all dayes of his life,
But if man and woman be giuen to strife,
They'll fall out for nothing.
He that is idle and will not take paines.
But honest industry and labour disdaines,
When others true labours are quitted with gaines,
Then he shall haue nothing.

The second part.

To the same tune.
HE that in Drunkennes takes his delight.
To drinke and to swagger, to brabble and fight
He taketh the wrong, and leaueth the right,
But I wil say nothing.
He that in basenesse his time doth here spend,
That neuer regards himselfe nor his friend,
He standeth in danger to haue a bad end,
But I wil say nothing.
He that takes pleasure to curse, ban and sweare,
With vaine execrations his Maker to teare,
The Lord in his wrath, if he doe not forbeare,
wil bring him to nothing.
He that doth ruffle it out in vaine pride
That weareth gay clothes a foule carcasse to hide,
And beares more on's backe then he's worth beside,
Ile trust him for nothing.
He that delighteth to goe to the Law,
To sue for a trifle that's scarce worth a straw,
May sue for a Woodcocke, and catch a Iack-Daw
For all comes to nothing.
He that his time stil carelesly spends,
And hopes to be rich by the death of his friends,
The piller whereon all his hope still depends,
Perhaps comes to nothing.
He that deferreth amendment to'th last,
And séekes not to thriue till al remedie's past,
If he through his folly behind hand be cast,
His hopes are worth nothing.
He that liues vprightly in his vocation,
And on the distressed hath commiseration,
That man rightly merits a good commendation
He's guilty in nothing.
He that with vsury doth money beget,
And loues that young spend-thrifts should be in his debt
The Deuill at last wil drag him in's net
But I wil say nothing.
He that can craftily cozen and cheat,
To get a base liuing by fraud and deceit,
Shal stand on the Pillory to coole his heate,
But I wil say nothing.
He that is often enclined to quarrell,
Wil bring both himselfe & his friend in great perill
But that man is blest that can wisely forbeare ill,
And learne to say nothing.
Here you sée something of nothing is made.
For of the word nothing, something is said,
That man who hath neither wealth, wit, not trade,
Alas he gets nothing.
So frée me being tedious, I now wil refraine,
And pray for King Charles that long he many raigne:
His foes and all traytors that wish Englands bane.
Good Lord bring to nothing

Printed at London for Iohn Wright.

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