Plucke the fruite and taste the pleasure

Plucke the fruite and taste the pleasure,
Youthfull Lordings of delight,
Whilst occasion giues you seasure,
Feede your fancies and your sight:
After death when you are gone,
Ioy and pleasure is there none.

Here on earth nothing is stable,
Fortunes chaunges well are knowne,
Whilst as youth doth then enable,
Let your seedes of ioy be sowne:
After death when you are gone,
Ioy and pleasure is there none.

Feast it freely with your Louers,
Blyth and wanton sweetes doo fade,
Whilst that louely Cupid houers
Round about this louely shade,
Sport it freelie one to one,
After death is pleasure none.

Now the pleasant spring allureth,
And both place and time inuites:
Out alas, what heart endureth
To disclaime his sweete delightes?
After death when we are gone,
Ioy and pleasure is there none.