Ballad of Good Doctrine to Those of Ill Life

Peddle indulgences, as you may:
Cog the dice for your cheating throws.
Try if counterfeit coin will pay,
At risk of roasting at last, like those
That deal in treason. Lie and glose,
Rob and ravish : what profits it ?
Who gets the purchase, do you suppose?
Taverns and wenches, every whit.

Rhyme, rail, wrestle and cymbals play :
Flute and fool it in mummers' shows :
Along with the strolling players stray
From town to city, without repose ;
Act mysteries, farces, imbroglios :
Win money at gleek or a lucky hit
At the pins : like water, away it flows ;
Taverns and wenches, every whit.

Turn from your evil courses I pray,
That smell so foul in a decent nose :
Earn your bread in some honest way.
If you have no letters, nor verse nor prose,
Plough or groom horses, beat hemp or tose.
Enough shall you earn if you think but fit :
But cast not your wage to each wind that blows ;
Taverns and wenches, every whit.

Envoi
Doublets, pourpoints and silken hose,
Gowns and linen, woven or knit,
Ere your wede's worn, away it goes;
Taverns and wenches, every whit.