ght colours never lacke,
But true religion doth such toyes refuse:
Vertue and gravity are sisters growne,
Since blacke by both, and both by blacke are knowne.

White is the colour of each paltry miller,
White is the ensigne of each common woman;
White is white vertues for blacke vyces piller,
White makes proud fooles inferiour unto no man:
White is the white of body, blacke of minde,
Vertue we seldome in white habit finde.

Oh, then be not so proud because th' art fayre,
Vertue is onely the ritch gift of God:
Let not selfe-pride thy vertues name impayre,
Beate not greene youth with sharpe repentance rod:
A fiend, a monster, a mishapen divel;
Vertues foe, vyces friend, the roote of evill.

Apply thy minde to be a vertuous man;
Avoyd ill company, the spoyle of youth;
To follow vertues lore doo what thou can,
Whereby great profit unto the ensuth:
Reade bookes, hate ignorance, the foe to art,
The damme of errour, envy of the hart.

Serve Jove upon thy knees both day and night,
Adore his name above all things on earth;
So shall thy vowes be gracious in his sight,
So little babes are blessed in their birth:
Thinke on no worldly woe, lament thy sin,
For lesser cease, when greater griefes begin.

Sweare no vaine oathes, heare much, but little say,
Speake ill of no man, tend thine owne affaires;
Bridle thy wrath, thine angrie mood delay,
So shall thy minde be seldome cloyd with cares:
Be milde and gentle in thy speech to all,
Refuse no honest gaine when it doth fall.

Be not beguild with words, prove not ungratefull,
Releeve thy neighbour in his greatest need,
Commit no action that to all is hatefull,
Their want with welth, the poore with plentie feed:
Twit no man in the teeth with what th' hast done;
Remember flesh is fraile, and hatred shunne.

Leave wicked things, which men to mischiefe move,
Least crosse mis-hap may thee in danger bring:
Crave no preferment of thy heavenly Jove,
Nor anie honor of thy earthly king:
Boast not thyselfe before th' Almighties sight,
Who knowes thy hart, and anie wicked wight.

Be not offensive to the peoples eye,
See that thy praiers harts true zeale affords,
Scorne not a man that's falne in miserie,
Esteeme no tatling tales, no babling words;
Th