A comparison of the life of Man,
Concerning how fickle his estate doth stand,
Flourishing like a Tree, or Vine, or dainty flower,
Or like a ship, or raine, that's turn'd each houre,
To the tune of Sir Andrew Barton.
VENICE.
LONDON.
BRISTOW.
AS I lay musing all alone,
Great store of things I thought vpon,
And specially of mans estate,
And how hée's subject vnto fate.
First Ile compare him to a tree,
Which you sometimes all greene may sée,
But suddenly his leafes doe fall
That he was beautify'd withall.
The Trée likewise is knowne by's fruit
Better then by his fine gréene sute,
He may show comely to the eye,
Yet his fruit may tast bitterly.
So men sometimes make a faire showe,
All fresh and gréene they séeme to growe,
But when the winter of griefe and thrall
Doth on them seize, their gréene leaues fall.
But for the difference of mens fruit,
I must indéed be something mute,
But those that grow like Cedars tall
Yield little fruit or none at all.
Yet doe they flourish fresh and gréene,
Much like the pleasant sommer Quéene▪
They are bedect with fragrant flowers,
And they doe dwell in stately Towers.
But as the Tree is great and tall,
The great and mightier is his fall:
And as he falls, so doth he lye,
Vntill the builder him apply.
What though a man haue store of wealth,
It cannot him assure of health,
By his fruits he must sure be try'd,
Either condemn'd or justify'd.
Againe, a man is like a Vine,
That from the earth doth fluorish fine,
Adorn'd with natures ornament,
With store of Grapes to giue content.
But with a knife, or such a thing,
The Vine is soone set a bléeding,
And then those Grapes will soone decay,
And piningly will wast away.
Euen so stands the life of man,
If that his blood from him be drawne,
Then suddenly his life doth yield,
And vnto death he is compell'd.
Man flourisheth euen like a flower,
Which liues and dyes within an hours,
He growes perhaps vntill his prime,
Or he may dye in's budding time.
He may chance liue till hée is old,
And bide the brunt of Winters cold,
But then hée'l lose the smell and shew,
And will no more be worth the view.
So many men dye in their prime,
And some dye in their budding time:
But he that liues the longest life,
Shall find but sorrow, care, and strife.
Mans life is like a ship o'th Seas,
Which is sometimes as Fortune please,
Euen as proud Boreas blasts doe blow.
When Winds are still and weather's faire,
Then Mariners are free from care;
But when as stormes make dark the skye,
Then must each man his labour plye.
The second part
To the same tune.
SO is't with man the selfe same case,
His life's a ship that seas doth trace,
And oft is like to goe to wracke
When winds and storms doe tacklings crack.
We men when sicknesse doth assaile
Our bodyes, and makes vs looke pale,
Then would we doe all things we may,
So that our health we might enjoy.
But when the Fates on vs doe smile,
Like Saylers we forget our toyle.
We hang out colours for a show,
But take them in when stormes doe grow.
I may compare a man againe
Euen like vnto a turning raine,
That changeth euen as doth the wind,
Indéed so is mans fickle mind.
The mind of man doth often change,
Hée's apt with euery gale to range,
He standeth tottering to and fro,
Euen as his foolish fancies goe.
Againe I may mans Life compare
Like to a bird that flyes i'th aire,
And suddenly she sées a bayt,
Which is to take her with deceit.
The bird no sooner is betrayd,
But comes me him that the bait layd,
And hauing taken her in his Net,
She dyes, and he for more doth bait.
Euen so is man by running caught,
When as thereof he hath no thought,
He soareth high and feares no fail,
Yet then hée's in most danger of all.
Make tryall of this any one,
And you shall find that I haue showne
A prospect where you may behold
The difference in this earthy mold.
This life is fickle, fraile, and vaine,
Seeke euerlasting life to gaine.
All worldly treasures soone decay,
And mortall man returnes to clay.
Before thou dyest bid pride adieu,
Which doth so often shape thee new,
Call out for mercy with loud voice,
And let her be thy onely choice.
If thou haue liu'd in gluttony,
Forgetting quite that thou shalt dye,
Then quickly charity imbrace,
That she may plead well in thy case.
If thou by couetousnesse haue liu'd,
And hast thy neighbours poore deceiu'd,
Then suddenly restor't againe,
For feare thou feele hells burning paine.
Perchance in wrath thou hast shed blood,
Which wrath should alwayes be withstood,
Yet arme thee with a patient heart,
And neuer more act such a part.
If thou hast enuy'd at thy brother,
Repent with speed, that blacke sinne smother,
And let true loue be thy delight,
Thou mayst depart with life this night.
If thou hast slothfull beene, and lewd,
Neglecting Gods most holy word,
Apply thy selfe most speedily,
Redeeme thy time spent idly.
If thou lasciuious hast beene giuen;
Dóe so no more, but pray to heauen,
That hateful sinne God may forgiue,
Chastise thy selfe, repent, and grieue.
Thus to conclude, let me intreat
All those that heare what I relate,
That they seeke heauens grace to find,
And alwayes heare an vpright mind.
R.C.
FINIS.
Printed at London for Francis Coules