At five times seven I must hard strive, What I could gain by mighty skill; But still against the stream I drive, And bowl up stones against the hill; The more I laboured might and main, The more I strove against the stream. At six times seven all covetise Began to harbour in my breast; My mind still then contriving was How I might gain this worldly wealth; To purchase lands and live on them, So make my children mighty men. At seven times seven all worldly thought Began to harbour in my brain; Then did I drink a heavy draught Of water of experience plain; There none so ready was as I, To purchase bargains, sell, or buy. At eight times seven I waxèd old, And took myself unto my rest, Neighbours then sought my counsel bold, And I was held in great request; But age did so abate my strength, That I was forced to yield at length. At nine times seven take my leave Of former vain delights must I; It then full sorely did me grieve— I fetchèd many a heavy sigh; To rise up early, and sit up late, My former life, I loathe and hate. At ten times seven my glass is run, And I poor silly man must die; I lookèd up, and saw the sun Had overcome the crystal sky. So now I must this world forsake, Another man my place must take. Now you may see, as in a glass, The whole estate of mortal men; How they from seven to seven do pass, Until they are threescore and ten; And when their glass is fully run, They must leave off as they begun. THE YOUNG MAN’S WISH. [FROM an old copy, without printer’s name; probably one from the Aldermary Church-yard press. Poems in triplets were very popular during the reign of Charles I., and are frequently to be met with during the Interregnum, and the reign of Charles II.] IF I could but attain my wish, I’d have each day one wholesome dish, Of plain meat, or fowl, or fish. A glass of port, with good old beer, In winter time a fire burnt clear, Tobacco, pipes, an easy chair. In some clean town a snug retreat, A little garden ‘fore my gate, With thousand pounds a year estate. After my house expense was clear, Whatever I could have to spare, The neighbouring poor should freely share. To keep content and peace through life, I’d have a prudent cleanly wife, Stranger to noise, and eke to strife. Then I, when blest with such estate, With such a house, and such a mate, Would envy not the worldly great. Let them for noisy honours try, Let them seek worldly praise, while I Unnoticèd would live and die. But since dame Fortune’s not thought fit To place me in affluence, yet I’ll be content with what I get. He’s happiest far whose humble mind, Is unto Providence resigned, And thinketh fortune always kind.