Perhaps thou harborest such thoughts as these: “I hope I may enjoy my carnal ease A little longer, and myself refresh With those delights that gratify the flesh, And yet repent before it be too late, And get into a comfortable state. I hope I have yet many years to spend, And time enough those matters to attend,“ Presumptuous heart! Is God engag’d to give A longer time to such as love to live Like Rebels still, who think to strain his Glory By wickedness, and after to be sorry? Unto thy lust shall he be made a drudge, Who thee and all ungodly men shall judge? Canst thou account sin sweet, and yet confess That first or last it ends in bitterness? Is sin a thing that must procure thee sorrow, And wouldst thou dally with’t another morrow? O foolish man who lovest to enjoy That which will thee distress, or else destroy! What gainéd Samson by his Delilah? What gainéd David by his Bathshebah? The one became a slave, lost both his eyes, And made them sport that were his enemies; The other penneth, as a certain token Of God’s displeasure, that his bones were broken, Besides the woes he after met withal. To chasten him for that his grievous Fall: His own Son Ammon, using crafty wiles, His Daughter Thamar wickedly defiles: His second Son, more beautiful than good. His hands embreweth in his Brother’s blood: And by and by, aspiring to the Crown, He strives to pull his gentle Father down; With hellish rage, him fiercely persecuting, And brutishly his Concubines polluting. Read whoso list, and ponder what he reads, And he shall find smaU joy in evil deeds. Moreover this consider, that the longer Thou liv’st in sin, thy sins will grow the stronger; And then it will an harder matter prove To leave those wicked haunts that thou dost love. The Black’moor may as eas’ly change his skin. As old Transgressors leave their wonted sin. And who can tell what will become of thee, Or where thy Soul in one day’s time may be? We see that Death ne’er old nor young men spares, But one and other takes at unawares; for in a moment, whilst men Peace do cry, Destruction seizeth on them suddenly. Thou who this morning art a lively wight, May’st be a corpse and damnéd Ghost ere night.