The prodigal son converted, or The young-man return'd from his rambles Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, at the low rate o[f] a poor penny sheet; sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, 'tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; you can't command a poet with a frown to write new songs: but yours, for a crown: here's that will please you sure, and much befriend ye. You'll thank the author, if the devil be n't in ye. To a pleasant new play-house tune call'd The delight of the bottle, &c. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B28412 of text R216132 in the English Short Title Catalog. Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 6KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B28412 Wing P3643 99827883

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B28412) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 198056) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 21232:188-189) The prodigal son converted, or The young-man return'd from his rambles Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, at the low rate o[f] a poor penny sheet; sharp times will make sharp wits, not fear sharp tongues, 'tis we who money want which suffer wrongs; you can't command a poet with a frown to write new songs: but yours, for a crown: here's that will please you sure, and much befriend ye. You'll thank the author, if the devil be n't in ye. To a pleasant new play-house tune call'd The delight of the bottle, &c. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. Printed for R, [sic] Burton, at the Horse-shooe in West-Smithfield, [London] : [1665?] Verse - "The delights [and] the pleasures". Place of publication from and date conjectured by Wing. In two parts; woodcuts at head of first part. Reproduction of the original in the British Library.

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 eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. eebo The prodigal son converted, or The young-man return'd from his rambles : Wit ne're till now, was cry'd about the street, at the low rate o[f] a poor p n/a 1665 2 898 7 0 0 0 0 0 77.95 D The rate of 77.95 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2014-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-11 Sampled and proofread 2014-11 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
The Prodigal Son Converted , OR The Young-man return'd from his Rambles . Wit ne're till now , was cry'd about the street , At the low rate o a poor Penny sheet ; Sharp times will make sharp wits , not fear sharp tongues , 't is we who money want which suffer wrongs ; You can't command a Poet with a frown To write new Songs : but yours , for a Crown : Here 's that w ll please you sure , and much befreind ye . You 'll thank the Author , if the Devil be n 't in ye . To a pleasant New Play-house Tune call'd The Delights of the Bottle , &c.

THe delights & the pleasures of a man without care , For the present are swéet , but i th' end prove a snare , The extravagant youth , who in Frolicks runs mad , Being vitious o're much , will have cause to be sad . Debauches are sorrows , and robs us of rest , T is the temperate man with enioyment is blest . From fifteen till thirty just halfe of my time , I have lived in excess , and have thought it no crime . My Father being dead , I was left a young fool , Companion for none , but for boys in the school , Debauches are sorrows and robs us of rest T is the temperate man with , enjoyment is blest . Then some of my friends did begin for so that That I had an estate I soon hearken'd to that , And I quickly sound Tutors to show me the way , In ranting and roaring to spend night and day ; These tickl'd my fancy with vice all a-mode , Then I must be riding in that pleasant Road , I quickly arriv'd to a wretched estate To act what the Devil could think or Creat , But since they are past I will count it no sin To name them in order as I did begin . But my chief delight was in vice all-a-mode , And I often was riding in that pleasant Road
The Second part , To the same Tune . FIrst the Tavern me courted to lend it some coin , And to taste of these blessings that sprang from the vine , Which I found to be pleasant and always inviting So sweet is that sin , which we most do delight in The Fidlers to curse and the drawers command Is enough for those Fops who no more understand . The Bottles of Bacchus did my strength overcome , And with empty Pockets sent me realing home , Sick qualms of the stomach did blame my hard drinking , But I counted repentance was scarce worth my thinking ; The Fidlers to curse and the drawers command Is enough for those Fops who no more understand . Then high for a Wench when my blood it was warm , If she were but in rags she might easily charm , And enjoy all I had if she seem'd to be kind ; And would simper out Bawdy to tickle my mind ; Then home to her lodging she might easily draw me , My flames made me bold that I car'd not who saw me . Though it was but a hole where this Lady did ly , Yet she made me amends you shall hear by and by With a kiss and a smile and a sigh all-a-mode She guided my hand to the very right Road , Which home to her lodging full often did draw me My joyes were so great that I car'd not who saw me . T●at sport I soon learn'd , and that which is worse , She taught me to swear to damn and to curse , That in half a years time I had practic'd so well , That for drinking and whoring ther 's none did excells , For swearing and cursing in common discourse , I thought , if left out , made my language the worse . Then next to accomplish my self like a man , I must learn for to game well , as fast as I can : With some Bully Hector , I must venture a pound , There 's enough of those blades that may quickly be found , Forswearing and cursing in common discourse , And to win all my Guinneys which I ●hought much worse , All which by degrees my estate did so waste , I began to think that I made too much hasse Being cloy'd with enjoymen●s of such foolish pleasure , I 'le now lead my life in a tempera●e measure Yet with a true friend merry and jolly , With a Bottle or two I do count it no folly . What we drink in exce●s makes the appetite dull , And empties the bags be they never so full : It shortens our lives and deprives us of heal●h Then Young men beware and make much of your weal●h Yet with a true friend to be merry and jolly , With a Bottle or two I do count it no folly .

Printed for R , Burton , at the Horse-shooe in West-Smithfield .