Friendly Advice to EXTRAVAGANTS
Shewing the Vanity of those,
Who to themselves are cruel foes,
By their delays for to prepare,
grim Death he will not long forbear
But unawares will give the blow,
They'l mourn when they do find it so
Tune of, The rich Merchant man.
Hodie. Mihi.
Cras. Tibi:
Prepared. Bee
To. Follow. mee.
O What a sinful Age
is this that we live in,
When men delight in extreams,
and take a pride in sin.
Time's wing'd says one and flies:
therefo [...]e let us be merry,
Perhaps this may be our last day,
then let us d [...]ink our Sherry.
It is a motion strange
to call for men to drink,
But do not say let us go pray,
for 'tis high time I think.
Instead of good advice
they should give one another,
They give advice that in a trice
they may all virtue smother.
Wicked devices now
seem to be so common,
There's few that do the same eschew,
it is forsook by no man,
Oh pitty it is then
that sin should be the fashion,
Be sure they do bring shame unto
this poor distressed Nation.
Who by their wickedness
promote the Devils cause,
They urge our God to send his Rod,
by breaking of his Laws.
While yet we leisure have
and time for to repent,
Make no delay for fear you may
into the Grave be sent.
Before you are prepar'd
and fitted for to dye,
Oh then make haste and no time waste
repent immediately.
It can do you no harm
for to repent in time,
Many I say are snaccht away,
and dye just in their prime.
We have no lease of life,
no more than those who died,
And met with death who stop'd their breath
and would not be deny'd.
When death doth us assaile
we cannot him oppose,
Certain it is we must not miss
the Hour, yet no man knows.
It will be very sad
for those who die in sin,
Oh then take care for death prepare,
and think how slack you've béen.
We shall not alwaies find
God will with sinners hear,
Then while you may make no delay
but for your death prepare.
Think not that when you please
you shall have time to do it,
If you prolong time, you do wrong
your selves; then now fall to it.
And say not with the wretch
let's drink, laugh, and be merry,
Time will not stay but flies away,
then do not mind your Sherry.
But that which will do good
to your immortal souls,
Mind that alone, and ev'ry one
leave quaffing of your Bouls.
That drink which now in waste
you down your throats do throw,
Where drink is scant the same you'l want
& crave for ought I know.
Printed for F. Cole, T. Vere, J. Wright. J. Carlk. W. Thackery. & T. Passenger.