A book for boys and girls, or, Country rhimes for children by J.B.

XXI. Of the Boy and Butter Fly.

Behold how eager this our little Boy, Is of this Butter Fly, as if all Joy, All Profits, Honours, yea and lasting Pleasures, Were wrapt up in her, or the richest Treasures, Found in her would be bundled up together, When all her all is lighter than a feather.

He hollo's, runs, and cries out here Boys, here, Nor doth he Brambles or the Nettles fear: He stumbles at the Mole-Hills, up he gets, And runs again, as one bereft of wits; And all this labour and this large Out-cry, Is only for a silly Butter-fly.

Comparison.

This little Boy an Emblem is of those, Whose hearts are wholly at the World's dispose. The Butter-fly doth represent to me. The Worlds best things at best but sading be. All are but painted Nothings and false Joys, Like this poor Butter-fly to these our Boys.

His running thorough Nettles, Thorns and Bryers, To gratifie his boyish fond desires, His tumbling over Mole-hills to attain His end, namely, his Butter-fly to gain;

Doth plainly shew, what hazards some men run, To get what will be lost as soon as won. Men seem in Choice, then children far more wise, Because they run not after Butter-flies: When yet alas! sor what are empty Toys They follow Children, like to beardless Boys.