With bad companions you'll consort
With creatures vile and base,
Who'll rob you; yours will be, in short,
The puppy's common case.
But oh, my son! although you must
Through this ordeal pass,
You will not be, I hope—I trust—
A wholly senseless ass.
Of course at prudence you will sneer,
On that theme I won't harp;
Be good, I won't say—that's severe;
But be a little sharp.
All rascally associates shun
To bid you were too much,
But, oh I beware, my spooney son,
Beware one kind of such.
It asks no penetrative mind
To know these fellows: when
You meet them, you, unless you're blind,
At once discern the men.
The turgid lip, the piggish eye,
The nose in form of hook,
The rings, the pins, you tell them by,
The vulgar flashy look.
Spend every sixpence, if you please,
But do not, I implore,
Oh! I do not go, my son, to these
Vultures to borrow more.
Live at a foolish wicked rate,
My hopeful, if you choose,
But don't your means anticipate
Through bill-discounting Jews.
[Illustration: CHAUCER]