If thou wilt shun the pricking briers,
And thornie cares that folly breedes,
Put bridle to thy fond desires,
Make reason mistres of thy deedes.
Attempt nothing by rash aduice,
If thou thus doe, then art thou wise.
Where Wit to Will is slaue and thrall,
Where fond affection beareth sway,
Ten thousand mischiefes do befall:
And vertue cleane is cast away,
For hauing rashnes for their guide,
Such cannot choose but wander wyde.
Their credite quickly lies in dust,
Which yeelde as bondslaues to their will,
And follow euery foolish lust,
Such leaue the good, and choose the yll,
The wayes of vertue those forgoe,
And tread the pathes of care and woe.
Wilt thou possesse eternall ioyes,
And porte of blisse at length attayne?
Still prayse the Lord with heart and voyce,
From doyng yll thy steppes refrayne.
These things obserude, be sure at last,
In heauen with Christ, thou shalt be plast.