Whiles prime of youthe, is freshe within his flower,
Take houlde of time: for it doth haste awaye.
Watche, write, and reade, and spende no idle hower,
Inritche your mindes with some thinge, everie daye:
For losse of time, all other losse exceedes,
And evermore it late repentaunce breedes.
The idle sorte, that ignoraunce doe taste,
Are not esteem'd, when they in yeares doe growe:
The studious, are with understanding grac'd,
And still prefer'd, thoughe first their caulinge lowe.
Then have regarde, to banishe idle fittes,
And in your youthe, with skill adorne your wittes.
Whereby, in time such hap maye you advaunce,
As bothe your Towne, and countrie, you maye frende:
For, what I woulde unto my selfe shoulde chaunce:
To you I wishe, wheare I my prime did spende.
Wherefore behoulde this candle, booke, and glasse:
To use your time, and knowe how time dothe passe.