THE
Dispairing PRODIGAL:
OR,
The Happy Surprisall.
To an Excellent New Tune, Sung at the Court, Call'd, The Boarding School.
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YOung men & Maids to these few lines give ear,
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And a Relation you shall hear,
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If the whole life of a young Gentle-man,
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That in his tender--years began,
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To practice all things, that deserved praise,
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And some years thus spent his daies,
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He was a Darling and the only Child,
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Of a most [tender]--Father mild,
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Who had design'd him, for to study Law,
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Since he Excelled others he saw,
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Thus for a while he learned Authors tries,
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And his acquaintance did surprize.
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TO his Inferiours, he was always kind,
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And of a sweet--temper of mind,
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This made him soon honour'd by great and small,
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And that he was loved of all,
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But by Acquaintance he mispent his time,
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Did Idely waste most of his Prime.
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Learning was left, Books were not minded more,
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Which he had admir'd so much before.
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His Chamber, which [Conce], and his chief delight,
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He only haunted at twelve at Night,
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Sweet Serenades, Frolicks, and pleasures fine,
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These does Embrace and think Divine.
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Now for to Court he does resolve to trie,
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And to admire every black eye,
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Every sweet Dimple in the Female Face,
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Every soft--mould, and every Grace,
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No Ladies heart, but he could Charm and Win,
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And his Attempts now does begin.
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He had now learnt, though the Ladies--Fair,
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Have hearts as hard as the Flints are,
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Yet if 'tis true (which is by Rumor sed,)
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These will soon break on a Down-Bed,
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Ladies, he thinks, sometimes are Falling Stars,
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And take Delight, in Cupids Wars.
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He likes the Foe, with a sweet Virgins Fate,
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To [fright] the Fair-Head-Piece, with Lace,
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Up to the Knees in Silken--Stockings--soft,
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'Tis in these Wars he would fight oft,
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There's no great danger, in such Duels, sure
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Such Pleasing--Wars, Maids may Endure.
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These Evil--Courses reacht his Fathers Ears,
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Rais'd in his brest many sad fears,
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He sends for home this his beloved--Son,
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Shews him his grief says he's undone,
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And does command now by his dying Breath,
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That he observe after his death.
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Never to part with this house, which you have,
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When you have laid me in my Grave,
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Nor open this Closed door which you see,
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Of which this same, here is the Key,
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'Till you han't left one six penca for to pay,
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And so farewel, mind what I say.
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After a while he sold a fair--Estate,
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And was reduc'd to a sad Fate,
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Credit he lackt, and now had Friends no more,
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And was become wretched and poor,
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At last he thought upon the Closet-Door,
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Which 'till this time was lockt secure.
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Round there he looks with discontented eyes,
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And a sad Mottoe there he spies,
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With this Inscription, Now go hang your self,
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Writ in large Lines round every shelf,
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With a Huge Rope, and a Noose, fitted there,
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And for his fate, now doth prepare.
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Now all the youths great Expectation's gone,
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Nothing but sighs and tears come on,
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Once he had hopes that he should Treasure find,
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But now complains fortunes--unkind,
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At laste the Rope he does with Horrour take,
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And does resolve to yield to fate,
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This to a false-Ceeling was fixt which fell,
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And round his head, money--Pell--mel,
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Bags of bright Gold and of pure Silver fine,
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Which sight the Miser thinks Divine,
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Thus this same [strange]--surprize, and all this strife
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Ended with Joy and a good--life,
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FINIS.
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