Anonymous — The brainsick race that wanton youth ensues

The brainsick race that wanton youth ensues Without regard to grounded wisdom's lore, As often as I think thereon renews The fresh remembrance of an ancient sore: Revoking to my pensive thoughts at last The worlds of wickedness that I have passed. And though experience bids me bite on bit, And champ the bridle of a better smack, Yet costly is the price of after-wit, Which brings so cold repentance at her back: And skill that's with so many losses bought Men say is little better worth than nought. And yet this fruit I must confess doth grow Of folly's scourge: that though I now complain Of error past, yet henceforth I may know To shun the whip that threats the like again: For wise men, though they smart a while, had liever To learn experience at the last, then never.