If that he before had notyd craftely His ennemyes gyftis of frawde full and of treason He myght haue sauyd hymselfe from ieoperdy And all his people by prouydence and reason Where as he blynde was as at that season And to a cyte broughte in by a trayne Where he was murdred and all his people slayne

Julius Cesar the chefe of conquerours Was euer warre and prudent of counsayle But whan he had obteyned great honours And drewe to rest as wery of Batayle Than his vnwarnes causyd hym to wayle For if he had red with good aduysement The letter whiche to the counselhous was sent

He had nat gyuen his owne iugement As he dyd by his foly and neglygence For whiche he murdred was incontynent Without respect had vnto his excellence Alas se here what inconuenyence Came to this Emperour hye and excellent For nat beyng wyse dyscrete and prouydent

If Nichanor before had noted well The ende of his dedes he had nat be slayne By Judas and the children of Israell His hande and tunge cut of to his great payne And than his hede, as the bybyll sheweth playne Thus may all knowe that wyll therto entende Wherto they come that caryth nat the ende

But he that begynneth by counsayll and wysdome Alway procedynge with good prouysyon Notynge what is past and what is for to come Suche folowys godly scripture and monycion In happy wayes without transgressyon Of goddes lawes, and his commaundement And often tymes comys to his intent.

Thus it appereth playne and euydent That wyse prouysyon, prose and good counsayle Are moche laudable, and also excellent And to mankynde great profyte and auayle. Where as those folys haue often cause to wayle For theyr mysfortune, in sorowe vexed sore Whiche ought begyn nat prouydyd before

THE ENUOY OF ALEXANDER BARCLAY.

O man remember thou canste nat abyde Styll in this lyfe therfore moste specially For thy last ende thou oughtest to prouyde. For that prouysion forsoth is most godly And than next after thy mynde thou ought aply To fle offence, and bewayle thyne olde synne And in all workes and besynes worldly What may be the ende marke well or thou begynne

* * * * *

Of disordred loue and veneryous.



O cruel Uenus forsoth who doth insue Thy flaterynge gylys and proude commaundement And hastyth nat the dartis to eschewe Of blynde Cupido but folowys his intent Suche folys endure moche sorowe and turment Wastynge theyr goodes dishonestynge their name As past fere of god and sekynge after shame

Howe many yllys, what inconuenyence Howe great vengeaunce, and howe bytter punysshement Hath god oft takyn for this synne and offence Howe many Cytees hye and excellent Hath Uenus lost, destroyed, and alto brent What lordes and howe many a great estate Hath loue lost, murdred, or els brought in debate

The noble Troyans murdred ar and slayne Theyr cyte brent, decayde is theyr kyngdome Theyr kynge pryant by pyrrus dede and slayne And all this by Parys vnhappy loue is come Whiche voyde of grace and blynde without wysdome To fyll his lust, from Grece rubbyd Helayne, But this one pleasour was grounde of moche payne

Also Marcus a Prynce of the Romayns Called Antonius by another name After that he had ouercome the persyans To Rome retournyd with tryumphe lawde and fame And there (whiche after was to his great shame) With cleopatra in loue was take so in blyndnes That he promysyd to make hir empresse

So this blynde louer to fyll his interpryse Caused his men two hondred shyppes ordayne And toke the see wenynge in suche fourme and wyse His lewde desyre: to perfourme and obteyne But shortly after was he ouercome and slayne Of Cesar: and whan he this purpose vnderstode He bathed his Corse within his lemmans blode

For two serpentis that venemus were and fell Were set to the brestis of fayre Cleopatray So this cruell purpose had punysshement cruell For theyr intendynge theyr countrey to betray And worthy they were, what man can it denay Thus it apereth playne by euydence That of false loue cometh great inconuenyence

For he that loueth is voyde of all reason Wandrynge in the worlde without lawe or mesure In thought and fere sore vexed eche season And greuous dolours in loue he must endure No creature hym selfe may well assure From loues soft dartis: I say none on the grounde But mad and folysshe bydes he whiche hath the wounde

Aye rennynge as franatyke no reason in his mynde He hath no constaunce nor ease within his herte His iyen ar blynde, his wyll alwaye inclyned To louys preceptes yet can nat he departe The Net is stronge, the fole caught can nat starte The darte is sharpe, who euer is in the chayne Can nat his sorowe in vysage hyde nor fayne

Rede howe Phedra hir loue fixed so feruent On ypolitus in prohybyte auowtry. That whan he wolde nat vnto hir consent To hir husbonde she accused hym falsly As if he wolde hir tane by force to vylany Ipolitus was murdred for this accusement But Phedra for wo hanged hyrself incontynent

The lewde loue of Phasyphe abhomynable As poetis sayth) brought hir to hir confusyon Nero the cruell Tyrant detestable. His naturall mother knewe by abusyon Uenus and Cupido with their collusyon. Enflamyd Messalina in suche wyse That euery nyght hir selfe she wolde disgyse

And secretly go to the brothelhous For to fulfyll hir hote concupyssence What shall I wryte the dedes vicious Of Julia or, hir cruell offence. What shall I wryte the inconuenyence Whiche came by Danythys cursed auowtry Syth that the bybyll it shewyth openly

What shall I wryte the greuous forfayture Of Sodom and Gomor syns the Bybyll doth tell Of their synnes agaynst god and nature For whiche they sanke alyue downe into hell. Thus it aperith what punysshement cruell. Our lorde hath taken both in the olde lawe and newe For this synne: whiche sholde vs moue it to eschewe

ALEXANDER BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Ye folys inflamyd with loue inordynate. Note these examples, drawe from this vyce your mynde Remember that there is none so great estate But that false loue hym causeth to be blynde Our folysshe wymen may nat be left behynde For many of them so folowys in this way That they sell theyr soules and bodyes to go gay

The graceles galantes, and the aprentyce pore Though they nought haue, themselfe they set nought by Without they be acquaynted with some hore Of westmynster or some other place of rybawdry Than fall they to murder theft and robery. For were nat proude clothynge, and also flesshely lust All the feters and gyues of Englonde shulde rust.

Therfore folys awake, and be no longer blynde Consyder that shame, seknes, and pouertye Of loue procedeth: and drawe from it your mynde Suffre not your soules damned and lost to be By vayne lust and carnall sensualyte For thoughe the small pleasure do make the fayne The ende oft is worldly wo and myserye Or amonge the fendes eternall payne

* * * * *

Of them y^t synne trustynge vpon the mercy of god.



The wynde is up our Nauy is aflote A bande of Folys a borde is come yet more Theyr cursed maners and mad I shall nowe note Whose herte for synne is neyther contryte ne sore Nat mornynge (as they ought to do) therfore Without fere styll lyuynge in theyr vyciousnes No thynge inclyned to godly holynes

They thynke no thynge on goddes rightwysnes But grounde them all, on his mercy and pyte For that he redyer is vnto forgeuenesse Unto all people, than them punysshed to se Trouth it is that the great enormyte Of the worlde hathe nat aye worthy punysshement Nor he nat damnyd that doth his synne repent

Put case he gyuyth nat aye lyke iugement On mannys mysdede, nor yet mundayne offence And though he be gode meke and pacyent Nor shortly punyssheth our inconuenyence Put case also he gyue nat aduertence To all mundayne fawtes synne and fragylyte Yet none sholde synne in hope of his mercy

But these folys assembled in a companye Sayth eche to other that oft it is laufull To perseuerant synners lyuynge in iniquyte Yo trust in god syns he is mercyfull What nedeth vs our wyttis for to dull Labourynge our synne and foly to refrayne Syns synne is a thynge naturall and humayne

Than sayth another forsoth thou sayst playne And also our fore Faders and progenitours Before our dayes offendyd haue certayne. As well as we, in many blynde errours But syns they haue escapyd all paynes and dolours Of hell; and nowe in heuyn ar certayne What nede haue we to fere infernall payne.

Than comys in an other with his dotysshe brayne By god sayth he I knowe it without fable That heuyn was made neyther for gose nor crane Nor yet for other bestes vnresonable Than of the Scripture doth he Chat and bable Alleggynge our forefaders whiche haue mysdone Saynge that no synne is newe in our season

A myserable men destytute of reason. That thus on hope do synne vnhappely Remember the synne of our forefaders done Haue neuer ben left vnpunysshed fynally And that somtyme, full sharpe and bytterly For euer more all synne hath had a fall With sorowe here, or els wo infernall

The synne of Sodom foule and nat natural The Pryde of rome, whiche was so excellent The offence of Dauyd Prophete and kynge royal The furour of Pharao fyers and violent Haue nat escaped the rightwyse punysshment Of God aboue, the celestial and highe Justice Which fyrst, or last punyssheth euery vyce.

Remember Richarde lately kynge of price In Englonde raynynge vnrightwisely a whyle. Howe he ambycion, and gyleful Couetyse With innocent blode his handes dyd defyle But howbeit that fortune on hym dyd smyle Two yere or thre: yet god sende hym punysshment By his true seruant the rede Rose redolent.

Therfore remember that god omnypotent Oft suffreth synners in theyr iniquyte Grauntynge them space and tyme of amendement And nat to procede in their enormyte But those synners that byde in one degre And in this lyfe their synne wyll nat refrayne God after punyssheth with infernall payne

As I haue sayde (therfore) I say agayne Though god be of infynyte pety and mercy His fauour and grace passynge all synne mundayne Yet iustice is with hym eternally. Wherfore I aduyse the to note intentifly Though pyte wolde spare, iustyce wyll nat so But the here rewarde, els with infernal we.

ALEXANDER BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Syghe synners, syghe, for your mysgouernance. Lament, mourne, and sorowe for your enormyte. Away with these Clowdes of mysty ignorance Syn nat in hope of goddys hyghe petye And remember howe ye daily punysshed be With dyuers dyseases both vncouthe and cruel And all for your synne, but suche as escapeth fre And styl lyue in syn, may fere the peynes of helle

* * * * *

Of the folisshe begynnynge of great bildynges without sufficient prouision.



Who euer begynneth any worke or dede Of byldynge or of other thynge chargeable And to his costes before taketh no hede Nor tyme nat countyth to his worke agreable Suche is a fole and well worthy a babyll For he that is wyse wyll no thynge assay Without he knowe howe he well ende it may.

The wyse man counteth his cost before alway Or he begyn, and nought wyll take in honde Wherto his myght or power myght denay His costes confourmynge to the stynt of his londe Where as the fole that nought doth vnderstonde Begynneth a byldynge without aduysement But or halfe be done his money clene is spent.

Many haue begon with purpose dilygent To bylde great houses and pleasaunt mansyons Them thynkynge to finysshe after theyr intent But nede disceyuyd hath theyr opynyons Their purpose nat worth a cowpyll of onyons But whan they se that they it ende nat can They curse the tyme that euer they it began

Of Nabugodosor that worthy man. What shall I wryte or the story to the tell Syth that the Bybyll to the expresse it can In the fourth chapter of the prophete Danyell Was he nat punysshed in paynes cruell For his great pryde and his presumpcion Whiche he toke it in the byldynge of Babylon

His golde and treasoure he spendyd hole theron Enioynge hym in his Cyte excellent Right so Nemroth by his inuencion The towre of Babylon began for this intent To saue hym, if the worlde agayne were drent But the hye god consyderynge his blynde rage His purpose let by confusyon of langage

His towre vnperfyte to his losse and domage His people punysshed, hymselfe specyally Thus it apereth what great disauauntage On theyr hede falleth that byldeth in foly Thus he is folysshe that wolde edefy Any great worke without ryches in excesse For great byldynges requyreth great rychesse

But many folys ar in suche a blyndnesse That hereon nought they set their mynde ne thought Wherfore to them oft commyth great distresse And to great pouerty often ar they brought Laughed to scorne, their purpose cometh to nought And truely I fynde in bokes wryten playne That our olde faders haue neuer set theyr brayne

On great byldynge, ne yet of them ben fayne: It longeth to a lorde a Prynce or a Kynge That lacke no treasoure theyr werkes to mayntayne To set theyr myndes on excellent buyldynge Therfore who so euer wyll meddle with this thynge Or any other, before let hym be wyse That his myght and ryches therto may suffyse.

Lyst all men do mocke and scorne his interpryse For if he ought begyn without prouysyon And haue nat wherby his byldynge may up ryse All that is lost that is made and begon And better it is sothly in myn intencion Nought to begyn, and spare laboure and payne Than to begyn and than, leue of agayne

Who euer he be that so doth certayne He shall haue mockis mengled with his damage Therfore let suche folys sharpe theyr brayne And better intende to theyr owne auauntage Consyderynge that processe of tyme and age Theyr curyous byldynges shall at the lest confounde And Roufe and wallys make egall with the grounde.

BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Ye folys blyndyd with curyosyte Whiche on great byldynge set so sore your mynde Remember ye nat that doutles ye shall dye And your gay byldynges and howses leue behynde Thynke ye your conforte alway in them to fynde Or whan ye dye, them hens with you to haue Nay nay the laste hous gyuen to mankynde Is the course grounde and walles of his graue.

* * * * *

Of glotons and dronkardes.



Within our nauy he nedes shall haue a place. Whiche without mesure on lothsome glotony Setteth his pleasure and singuler solace His stomacke ouerchargynge, vyle and vngodely And to none other thynge his mynde doth he aply Saue depest to drynke, suche force nat of theyr soules But labore in rynsynge pecis cuppis and bowles

The madnes of dronkennes is so immoderate That greuous sores it ingendreth and sykenes It causeth often great foly and debate With soden deth and carefull heuynes In thynges no difference putteth dronkennes. It febleth the ioyntis and the body within Wastynge the brayne makynge the wyt full thyn

It engendreth in the hede infirmyte Blyndynge the herte wyt and discression The mynde it demynyssheth, coloure and beaute. Causynge all myschef, shame and abusyon It maketh men mad, and in conclusyon Causeth them lyue without lawe or measure Suynge after syn defylynge theyr nature

The people that are acloyed with this synne. On no thynge els theyr myndes wyll aply: Saue to the wyne and ale stakes to renne And there as bestes to stryue and drynke auy Than ar they outher gyuyn to rybawdry Or els to brawle and fight at euery worde Thus dronkennes is the chefe cause of discorde

But namely dronkennes and wretchyd glotony By their excesse and superfluyte Engendreth the rote of cursed Lechery With murder, thefte and great enormyte So bryngeth it many to great aduersyte And with his furour the worlde so doth it blynde That many it bryngeth to a shamfull ende

This vyce (alas) good maners doth confounde And maketh man ouer besy of langage And hym that in all ryches doth abounde It ofte in pryson bryngeth and in bondage It causeth man to his great sorowe and domage Disclose his secrete and his preuey counsayle Whiche causeth hym after sore to mourne and wayle

Nought is more lothsome, more vycyous nor vyle Than he that is subdued to this vyce His lyfe shortynge his body he doth defyle Bereuynge his soule the ioy of Paradyse Howe many Cytees and lordes of great pryce Hath ben destroyed by dronken glotony And by his felawe, false loue, or lechery.

The sone of Thomyr had nat ben ouercome Nor slayne by Cyrus for all his worthynes. If he hym selfe had gydyd by wysdome And the vyce auoydyd of blynde dronkennes The great Alexander taken with this madnes With his swerde, whan he was dronken slewe Suche of his frendes as were to hym most trewe

I rede also howe this conquerour myghty Upon a season played at the Chesse With one of his knyghtes which wan ynally Of hym great golde treasoure and rychesse And hym ouercame, but in a furyousnes And lade with wyne, this conquerour vp brayde And to his knyght in wrath these wordes sayde

I haue subdued by strength and by wysdome All the hole worlde, whiche obeyeth to me And howe hast thou alone me thus ouercome And anone commaundyd his knyght hanged to be Than sayde the knyght by right and equyte I may apele. syns ye ar thus cruell Quod Alexander to whome wylt thou apell

Knowest thou any that is gretter than I Thou shalt be hanged thou spekest treason playne The knyght sayd sauynge your honour certaynly I am no traytoure, apele I woll certayne From dronken Alexander tyll he be sober agayne His lorde than herynge his desyre sounde to reason Differryd the iustyce as for that tyme and season

And than after whan this furour was gone His knyght he pardoned repentynge his blyndenes. And well consydered that he shulde haue mysdone If he to deth had hym done in that madnesse Thus it apereth what great unhappynes And blyndnes cometh to many a creature By wyne or ale taken without measure.

Se here the inconuenyence manyfolde Comynge of dronkennes as I wrytyn fynde. Some ar so starynge mad that none can them holde Rorynge and cryeng as men out of their mynde Some fyghtynge some chydynge, some to other kynde Nought lyuynge to them selfe: and some dotynge Johnn Beynge dronke thynketh hym as wyse as Salomon

Some sowe dronke, swaloynge mete without mesure Some mawdelayne dronke, mournynge lowdly and hye Some beynge dronke no lenger can endure Without they gyue them to bawdy rybawdry Some swereth armys nayles herte and body. Terynge our lord worse, than the Jowes hym arayed Some nought can speke, but harkenyth what is sayd.

Some spende all that they haue and more at wast With reuell and reuell dasshe fyll the cup Joohnn Some their thryft lesyth with dyce at one cast Some slepe as slogardes tyll their thryft be gone Some shewe theyr owne counsell for kepe can they none Some are Ape dronke full of lawghter and of toyes Some mery dronke syngynge with wynches and boyes

Some spue, some stacker some vtterly ar lame Lyeng on the grounde without power to ryse Some bost them of bawdry ferynge of no shame Some dumme, and some speketh. ix. wordes at thryse Some charge theyr bely with wyne in suche wyse That theyr legges skant can bere vp the body Here is a sort to drowne a hole nauy.

BARKLAYE TO THE FOLYS.

Alas mad folys howe longe wyll ye procede In this beestly lyuynge agayst humayne nature Cease of your Foly: gyue aduertence and hede That in eche thynge ought to be had measure Wyne ne ale hurteth no maner creature But sharpeth the wyt if it be take in kynde But if it be nat, than I the ensure It dulleth the brayne, blyndynge the wyt and mynde

Rede all bokes and thou shalt neuer fynde That dronkennes and wysdome may togyther be For where is dronkennes, there madnes is by kynde Gydynge the hauer to all enormyte And where as is madnes thou shalt neuer se Reason ne wysdome take theyr abydynge In one instant, wherfore lerne this of me That dronkennes is mortell enmy to cunnynge.

* * * * *

Of ryches vnprofytable.



It is great foly, and a desyre in vayne To loue and worshyp ryches to feruently And so great laboure to take in care and payne Fals treasoure to encrease and multyply But yet no wonder is it sertaynly Syth he that is ryche hath gretter reuerence Than he that hath sadnes wysdom and scyence

The ryche mannes rewardes stande in best degre But godly maners we haue set clene asyde Fewe loueth vertue, but fewer pouertye. Fals couetyse his braunches spreddeth wyde Ouer all the worlde, that pety can nat byde Among vs wretches banysshed is kyndnes Thus lyeth the pore in wo and wretchydnes

Without conforte and without auctoryte But he only is nowe reputed wyse Whiche hath ryches in great store and plente. Suche shall be made a sergeant or Justyce And in the Court reputed of moste pryse He shall be callyd to counseyll in the lawe Though that his brayne be skarsly worth a strawe

He shall be Mayre baylyfe or constable And he onely promotyd to honoure His maners onely reputed ar laudable His dedys praysyd as grettest of valoure Men laboure and seke to fall in his fauoure He shall haue loue, echone to hym shall sue For his ryches, but nought for his vertue

Se what rewardes ar gyuen to ryches Without regarde had to mannys condycyon A strawe for cunnynge wysdome and holynes Of ryches is the first and chefe questyon What rentes what londes howe great possessyon What stuffe of housholde what store of grotz and pens And after his gode his wordes hath credence.

His wordes ar trouth men gyue to them credence Thoughe they be falsly fayned and sotell But to the pore none wyll gyue aduertence Though that his wordes be true as the gospell Ye let hym swere by heuyn and by hell By god and his sayntes and all that god made Yet nought they beleue that of hym is sayde

They say that the pore men doth god dispyse Thouhe they nought swere but trouth and veryte And that god punyssheth them in suche wyse For so dispysynge of his hye maiestye Kepynge them for their synnes in pouerte And theyr ryche exaltyth by his power and grace To suche ryches, worldly pleasour and solace

The ryche ar rewarded with gyftis of dyuerse sorte With Capons and Conyes delycious of sent But the pore caytyf abydeth without confort Though he moste nede haue: none doth hym present The fat pygge is baast, the lene cony is brent He that nought hathe, shall so alway byde pore But he that ouer moche hath, yet shall haue more

The wolfe etis the shepe, the great fysshe the small The hare with the houndes vexed ar and frayde He that hath halfe nedes wyll haue all The ryche mannes pleasour can nat be denayde Be the pore wroth, or be he well apayde Fere causeth hym sende vnto the ryches hous His mete from his owne mouth, if it be delycious

And yet is this ryche caytyf nat content Though he haue all yet wolde he haue more. And though this gode can neuer of hym be spent With nought he departyth to hym that is pore Though he with nede harde vexed were and sore. O cursyd hunger o mad mynde and delyte. To laboure for that whiche neuer shall do profyte

Say couetous caytyfe what doth it the auayle For to haue all and yet, nat to be content Thou takest nat this sore laboure and trauayle To thy pleasoure but to thy great turment But loke therof what foloweth consequent Whan thou art dede and past this wretchyd lyfe Thou leuyst behynde brawlynge debate and stryfe

To many one ryches is moche necessary Whiche can it order right as it ought to be But vnto other is it vtterly contrary Whiche therwith disdayneth to socoure pouerte. Nor them relefe in theyr aduersyte Suche shall our lorde sore punysshe fynally And his petycion rightwysly deny

BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Ye great estatis and men of dignyte To whome god in this lyfe hath sent ryches Haue ye compassion, on paynfull pouertye And them conforte in theyr carefull wretchydnes God hym loueth and shall rewarde doutles Whiche to the nedy for hym is charitable With heuenly ioy, whiche treasour is endeles So shall thy riches to the be profytable.

* * * * *

Of hym that togyder wyll serue two maysters.



A fole also he is withouten doute And in his porpose sothly blyndyd sore Whiche doth entende labour or go aboute To serue god, and also his wretchyd store Of worldly ryches: for as I sayde before He that togyder wyll two maysters serue Shall one displease and nat his loue deserue

For he that with one hownde wol take also Two harys togyther in one instant For the moste parte doth the both two forgo And if he one haue: harde it is and skant And that blynde fole mad and ignorant That draweth thre boltis atons in one bowe At one marke shall shote to hye or to lowe

Or els to wyde, and shortly for to say With one or none of them he strykis the marke: And he that taketh vpon hym nyght or day Laboures dyuers to chargeable of warke. Or dyuerse offycis: suche wander in the darke For it is harde to do well as he ought To hym that on dyuerse thynges hath his thought

With great thoughtes he troubleth sore his brayne His mynde vnstable, his wyt alway wandrynge: Nowe here nowe there his body labours in payne And in no place of stedfast abydynge. Nowe workynge now musynge now renynge now rydynge Now on see nowe on londe, than to se agayne Somtyme to Fraunce, and nowe to Flaunders or Spayne

Thus is it paynfull and no thynge profytable On many labours a man to set his mynde For nouther his wyt nor body can be stable Whiche wyll his body to dyuers chargis bynde Whyle one goth forwarde the other bydes behynde Therfore I the counseyll for thyne owne behoue Let go this worlde and serue thy lorde aboue

He that his mynde settyth god truly to serue And his sayntes: this worlde settynge at nought Shall for rewarde euerlastynge ioy deserue But in this worlde, he that settyth his thought All men to please, and in fauour to be brought Must lout and lurke, flater, lawde, and lye: And cloke a knauys counseyll, though it fals be

If any do hym wronge or iniury He must it suffer and pacyently endure A dowble tunge with wordes lyke hony And of his offycis if he wyll be sure He must be sober and colde of his langage More to a knaue, than to one of hye lynage

Oft must he stoupe his bonet in his honde His maysters backe he must oft shrape and clawe His breste anoyntynge, his mynde to vnderstonde But be it gode or bad therafter must he drawe Without he can Jest he is nat worth a strawe. But in the meane tyme beware that he none checke For than layth malyce a mylstone in his necke

He that in court wyll loue and fauour haue A fole must hym fayne, if he were none afore And be as felowe to euery boy and knaue And to please his lorde he must styll laboure sore His manyfolde charge maketh hym coueyt more That he had leuer serue a man in myserye Than serue his maker in tranquylyte

But yet whan he hath done his dylygence His lorde to serue as I before haue sayde For one small faute or neglygent offence Suche a displeasoure agaynst hym may be layde That out is he cast bare and vnpuruayde. Whether he be gentyll, yeman grome or page Thus worldly seruyce is no sure herytage

Wherfore I may proue by these examples playne That it is better more godly and plesant To leue this mondayne casualte and payne And to thy maker one god to be seruaunt Whiche whyle thou lyuest shall nat let the want That thou desyrest iustly, for thy syruyce And than after gyue the, the ioyes of Paradyse.

BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Alas man aryse out of Idolatry. Worshyp nat thy ryches nor thy vayne treasoure Ne this wretchyd worlde full of mysery. But lawde thy maker and thy sauyour With fere, mekenes, fayth, glory, and honoure Let thy treasoure onely in his seruyce be And here be content with symple behauoure Hauynge in this lorde trust and felycyte

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Of to moche spekynge or bablynge.



Ye blaberynge folys superflue of langage Come to our shyp our ankers ar in wayde By right and lawe ye may chalange a stage To you of Barklay it shall nat be denayde Howe be it the charge Pynson hathe on me layde With many folys our Nauy not to charge. Yet ye of dewty shall haue a sympyll barge

Of this sorte thousandes ar withouten fayle That haue delyte in wordes voyde and vayne On men nat fawty somtyme vsynge to rayle On folysshe wordes settynge theyr herte and brayne They often touche to theyr owne shame and payne Suche thynges to whiche none wyll theyr mynde aply (Saue suche folys) to theyr shame and enuy

Say besy fole art thou nat well worthy To haue enuy, and that echone sholde the hate Whan by thy wordes soundynge to great foly Thou sore labrest to engender debate Some renneth fast thynkynge to come to late To gyue his counsell whan he seeth men in doute And lyghtly his folysshe bolt shall be shot out

Is it nat better for one his tunge to kepe Where as he myght (perchaunce) with honestee Than wordes to speke whiche make hym after wepe For great losse folowynge wo and aduersyte A worde ones spokyn reuoked can nat be Therfore thy fynger lay before thy lypes For a wyse mannys tunge, without aduysement trypes

He that wyll answere of his owne folysshe brayne Before that any requyreth his counsayle Shewith hym selfe and his hasty foly playne Wherby men knowe his wordes of none auayle Some haue delyted in mad blaborynge and frayle Whiche after haue suffred bytter punysshement For their wordes, spoken without aduysement

Say what precedeth of this mad outrage But great mysfortune, wo and vnhappynesse But for all theyr chattynge and plenty of langage Whan to the preste they come them to confesse To shewe theyr lewde lyfe theyr synne and wretchydnes Whan they sholde speke, and to this poynt ar come Theyr tunges ar loste and there they syt as domme

Many haue ben whiche sholde haue be counted wyse Sad and discrete, and right well sene in scyence But all they haue defyled with this one vyse Of moche spekynge: o cursyd synne and offence Pyte it is that so great inconuenience So great shame, contempt rebuke and vylany Sholde by one small member came to the hole body

Let suche take example by the chatrynge pye. Whiche doth hyr nest and byrdes also betraye By hyr grete chatterynge, clamoure dyn and crye Ryght so these folys theyr owne foly bewraye. But touchynge wymen of them I wyll nought say They can nat speke, but ar as coy and styll As the horle wynde or clapper or a mylle

But that man or woman or any creature That lytell speketh or els kepeth sylence Ar euer of them selfe moste stedfast and sure Without enuy, hatred or malyuolence. Where as to suche comys moche inconuenyence Sorowe vpon sorowe, malyce and dysdayne Whiche wyll no tyme, his speche nor tunge refrayne

Fayre speche is pleasaunt if it be moderate And spoken in season, conuenyente and dewe To kepe scylence, to pore man or estate Is a great grace, and synguler vertue Langage is lawdable whan it is god and true A wyse man or he speke wyll be wyse and ware What (to whome) why (howe) whan and whare

BARKLAYE TO THE FOLYS.

Ye bablynge brybours, endeuer you to amende Mytygat by mesure, your prowde hasty langage Kepe well your tunges so, shall ye kepe your frende For hasty speche ingendreth great damage Whan a worde is nat sayd, the byrde is in the cage Also the hous is surest whan the dorys be barryde So whan thy worde is spokyn and out at large Thou arte nat mayster, but he that hath it harde

If thou take hede and set therto thy brayne In this world thou shalt fynde thynges thre Whiche ones past, can nat be callyd agayne. The firste is (tyme lost) by mannes symplycyte The seconde (youth) reuoked can nat be The thyrde (a worde spoken) it gooth out in the wynde And yet is the fourth, that is (virginyte) My forgetfull mynde, had lefte it nere behynde

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Of them that correct other and yet them selfe do nought and synne worse than they whom they so correct.



Nowe to our Nauy, a sorte maketh asaute Of folys blynde, mad Jugys and Iniust Whiche lyghtly noteth another mannes faute. Chastynge that synne, whiche theyr owne mynde doth rust By longe abydynge, and increas of carnall lust They cloke their owne vyce synne and enormyte Other blamynge and chastynge with moche cruelte

They mocke and mowe at anothers small offence And redy ar a faute in them to fynde But of theyr owne foly and inconuenyence They se no thynge, for fully ar they blynde Nat notynge the vyce rotyd in theyr owne mynde Theyr greuous woundes and secrete malady For theyr owne yll they seke no remedy

The hande whiche men vnto a Crosse do nayle Shewyth the waye ofte to a man wandrynge Whiche by the same his right way can nat fayle But yet the hande is there styll abydynge So do these folys lewde of theyr owne lyuynge To other men shewe mean and way to wynne Eternall ioy themselfe bydynge in synne

He sertaynly may well be callyd a sote Moche vnauysed and his owne ennemy Whiche in a nothers iye can spye a lytell mote And in his owne can nat fele nor espye A moche stycke, so is he certaynly. Whiche noteth anothers small faute or offence To his owne great synnes gyuynge none aduertence

Many them selfe fayne as chaste as was saynt Johnn And many other fayne them meke and innocent Some other as iust, and wyse as Salomon As holy as Poule, as Job als pacyent As sad as senecke, and as obedyent As Abraham, and as martyn vertuous But yet is theyr lyfe full lewde and vycious

Some lokyth with an aungels countenaunce Wyse sad and sober lyke an heremyte Thus hydynge theyr synne and theyr mysgouernaunce. Under suche clokys lyke a fals ypocryte Let suche folys rede what Cicero doth wryte Whiche sayth that none sholde blame any creature For his faut, without his owne lyuynge be sure

Without all spot of synne faut or offence For in lyke fourme as a phesycyan. By his practyse and cunnynge or scyence The sekenes curyth of a nother man But his owne yll nor dyseas he nat can Relefe nor hele so doth he that doth blame Anothers synne: he styll lyuynge in the same

Many ar whiche other can counseyll craftely And shewe the peryll that may come by theyr synne But them selfe they counseyll nat: ne remedy. Nor take no waye whereby they heuyn may wynne But lye in that vyce that they rotyd ar in Leuynge the way that gydyth to ioy and rest Their owne sensualyte ensuynge as a beest

Wherfore ye prestis that haue the charge and cure. To teche and enfourme the rude comonte. In goddys lawes groundyd in scripture And blame all synnes sparynge no degre Whyle ye rebuke thus theyr enormyte Lyue so that none may cause haue you to blame And if ye do nat: it is to your great shame

For without doute it is great vylany A man to speke agaynst any offence Wherin he well knowyth hym owne selfe gylty Within his mynde and secrete conscience Agaynst hymselfe suche one gyueth sentence Howe god ryght iuge, by rightwyse iugement Shulde hym rewarde with worthy punysshement

THE ENUOY OF BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Ye clerkes that on your shulders here the shelde Unto you graunted by the vnyuersyte. Howe dare ye auenture to fyght in cristes felde Agaynst synne, without ye clere and gyltles be Consyder the Cocke and in hym shall ye se: A great example, for with his wynges thryse He betyth hym selfe to wake his owne bodye Before he crowe, to cause other wake or ryse.

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Of hym that fyndeth ought of another mannys it nat restorynge to the owner.



The feruour of ryches and disordred loue Whiche many haue, doth me bynde and constrayne. Within my shyp them sharply to reproue That pen nor hande, themselfe wyll not refrayne Of couetyse nowe I wyll nat speke agayne But of them that kepeth by force and by myght That thynge wherto they haue nat come, by ryght

Some fyndeth treasours other mennys good And in theyr owne vse suche good they occupy. Whiche of theyr myndes ar so blynde and wode. And so reted in theyr errour and foly That oft they say (say) ye and dare byde by That some saynt whome they worshypped haue Haue sende, them the same theyr honestee to saue

They haue no force nor care, nor they none haue wyll To whome the ryches so loste dyde apertayne That fortune hath gyuen they holde fast and kepe styll Neuer hauynge mynde it to restore agayne Suche folys fere no thynge euerlastynge payne Nor note nat, that without true restytucion It small auayleth to haue made confessyon.

Here me fole with thy immoderate mynde Here me and do thy herte therto aply If thou by fortune any ryches fynde Callynge it thyne: thou lyest therin falsly If thou haue wyt thou canst nat well deny But that gode nat gyuen, nor gottyn by laboure Can nat be rightwyse: thus mende thy blynde erroure

If thou ought fynde that longeth nat to the Than is it anothers, the case is clere and playne Wherfor thou ought of lawe and of dewte Unto the owner it soone to yelde agayne But if he be dede, to whome it dyd attayne Thou ought nat yet to kepe it nere the more. But to his sectours or heyres it restore

Put case that they also be past and dede Yet ought thou nat to keep it styll with the. The lawe commaundyth, and also it is mede. To gyue it to suche as haue necessyte. With it releuynge theyr paynfull pouertee And so shalt thou discharge thy conseyence. Helpynge the pore, and auoyde great offence

But he that others godes tourneth to his owne vse Spendynge and wastynge that thynge that neuer was his Suche certaynly his reason doth abuse And by this meane greuously doth amysse Wherby he lesyth eternall ioy and blysse His soule drownynge depe within hell flodes For his myspendynge of other mennys goodes

But to be shorte, and brefe in my sentence And sothe to saye playne as the mater is Forsoth I se nat right great difference Bytwene a thefe, and these folys couetys Both wrongly kepeth that thynge that is nat his Thynkynge that god doth nat therto aduerte Whiche notyth thy dedys, thy mynde thought and herte

Wherfore if thou haue a rightwyse conscyence Thou wylt nought kepe whiche longeth nat to the The lawe so commaundeth in payne of great offence For of gode that thou kepest agaynst equyte Thou shalt make accompt after that thou shalt dye To thy great payne in hell for euer more If thou no restytucion make before.

Here myght I touche executours in this cryme. Blamynge theyr dedys dysceyte and couetyse If it were nat for wastynge of my tyme For mende they wyll nat them in any wyse Nor leue no poyntes of theyr disceytfull gyse Let them take parte of that whiche I here note And be partynge foles in this present bote.

THE ENUOY OF BARKLAY THE TRANSLATOR TO THE FOLYS.

Ye false executours whome all the worlde repreuys And ye that fynde mennes goodes or treasoures I call you as bad as robbers or theuys For ye by your falshode and manyfolde errours Kepe falsly that thynge whiche is none of yours And wast here the goodes of hym that is past The soule lyeth in payne, ye take your pleasours. With his ryches, damnynge your owne soule at the last

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Of the sermon or erudicion of wysdome bothe to wyse men and folys.



Wysdome with voyce replete with grauyte Callyth to all people, and sayth o thou mankynde Howe longe wylt thou lyue in this enormyte Alas howe longe shalt thou thy wyt haue blynde Here my preceptis and rote them in thy mynde Nowe is full tyme and season to clere thy syght: Harkyn to my wordes, grounde of goodnes and ryght

Lerne mortall men, stodyenge day and nyght To knowe me wysdome, chefe rote of chastyte My holy doctryne thy herte shall clere and lyght My tunge shall shewe the ryght and equyte Chase out thy foly, cause of aduersyte. And seke me wysdome whiche shall endewe thy mynde With helth and welth wherby thou lyfe shalt fynde

Aryse I say agayne to the mankynde And seke me wysdome that am well of goodnes Let nat this worlde thy conscyence farther blynde Nor to synne subdue for loue of false rychesse Blynde nat thy herte with mondayne wretchednes I am worth golde and worth all good mundayne: And to mankynde counselloure souerayne

No maner Jowell is to me lyke certayne Ne so profytable to mortall creature I passe all ryches and cause a man refrayne His mynde from synne, and of his ende be sure There is no treasoure nor precious stone so pure Carbuncle Ruby ne adamond in londe nor see Nor other lapydary comparable to me:

And shortly to speke wysdome is more laudable Than all the worlde or other thynge mundayne There is no treasoure: to wysdome comparable But it alone is a vertue moste souerayne Hauynge nought lyke in valoure nor worth certayne No fole is so ryche, nor hye of dignyte But that a wyse man pore is more worthy than he

Wysdome preserueth men in auctoryte Prynces promotynge by counseyll prouydent By it pore men somtyme, and of lowe degre Hath had the hole worlde to them obedyent It gydeth Cytees and countrees excellent And gouerneth the counseyll of prynce lorde and kynge Strengthynge the body the herte enlumynynge

It gydyth lordes and from bondage doth brynge Them whome foly hath brought in to captyuyte Hir gyftys to mankynde frely offrynge Gydynge hir discyples from all aduersyte Wysdome stondynge vpon a stage on hye Cryeth to mankynde with lowde voyce in this wyse I trouth exalte: and vycious men dispyse

Lerne of me wysdome cast out your couetyse For by my myght craft and wyse prouysicion Kynges vnto their dygnyte dothe ryse Theyr septers gydynge by my monycion I gaue them lawes to gyde eche regyon In welthe defendynge and in prosperyte Them and theyr royalmes whyle they gyde them by me

All maner nacyons that doth to me inclyne I gyde and gouerne by lawe and equyte In me is right, godly wyt and doctryne What blynde foly, and howe great aduersyte Do they auoyde that gyde them selfe by me And he that me louyth with worshyp and honour Shall knowe my loue my grace and my fauour

He that me folowyth shall auoyde all dolour I shall hym folowe promotynge in suche case That none shall be before hym in valour I godly ryches in my power inbrace Whiche man by me may esely purchase And he that wyll his way by me addresse I shall rewarde with heuenly ioy endles

The father of heuen of infynyte goodnesse. Me comprehendyth within his deytee Of hym my firste begynnynge is doutles. And heuen and erth he create hath by me And euery creature bothe on londe and se The heuen imperyall all planetis and firmameut God neuer thynge made without my true assent

Therfore mankynde set thy mynde and intent To me wysdome to be subiect and seruaunt To my preceptis be thou obedyent And heuenly ioy thou shalt nat lacke nor want For doutles they ar mad and ignoraunt And folys blyndyd who so euer they be That wyll nat gladly be seruauntes vnto me

THE ENVOY OF BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Aryse folys of myndes darke and blynde. Receyue the gyftes of godly sapyence Here hir perceptis and plant them in your mynde And rote out the gaffys of your olde offence. Call to your myndes what inconuenyence Howe sodayne fallys, what sorowe and turment Hath come to many a myghty lorde and prynce For nat folowynge of hir commaundement.

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Of bostynge or hauynge confydence in fortune.



Amonge our folys he ought to haue a place And so he shall for it is resonable Whiche thynketh hymselfe greatly in fortunes grace Bostynge that she to hym is fauorable As if hyr maner were nat to be mutable In this vayne hope suche theyr lyfe doth lede Tyll at the laste theyr hous borne oure theyr hede

He shakyth boost and oft doth hym auaunte Of fortunes fauoure and his prosperyte Whiche suffreth hym nought of his wyll to wante So that he knoweth nought of aduersyte Nor mysfortune nor what thynge is pouertee. O lawles fole, o man blyndyd of mynde Say what suretye in fortune canst thou fynde

To what ende or vnto what conclusyon Shall fortune frayle vnrightwyse and vnsure Lede the blynde fole by hyr abusyon. Howe darest thou the in hir blyndnes assure. Syns she vnstable is and can nat longe endure Hir gyftis changith, she is blynde and sodayne Thoughe she firste lawghe hir ende is vncertayne.

Thou shakest boste ofte of hir foly in vayne For he is most happy whiche can auoyde hir snare If she exalte some one vnto welth mundayne She bryngeth another to payne sorowe and care Whyle one is ladyd to the others backe is bare Whyle she a begger maketh in good abounde A lorde or state she throweth to the grounde

But nat withstandynge hir mutabylyte. Thou bostest thy gode and to moche abundaunce Thou bostest thy welth and thy prosperyte Thy good auenturs, and plentyfull pleasaunce Alas blynde fole amende thy ygnoraunce And in thy welthe to this saynge intende That fortune euer hath an incertayne ende

Fals fortune infect of countenaunce and of face By hir iyen clowdy and varyable vysage Hath many for a whyle taken to hir grace Whiche after by hir whele vnstable and volage Hath brought them to wo mysfortune and damage She ruleth pore and riche without difference Lewdnes exaltynge and damnynge innocence

Thus is that man voyde, of all intellygence Whom fortune fedyth, with chaunche fortunable If he therin haue ouer large confydence And thynke that sure that euer is mutable That fole is sonne, to the fende abhomynable That foloweth ryches, and fortune that is blynde His sauyour lefte, and clene out of mynde

Whan the foule fende, father of vnhappynes Pore man purposyth by falshode to begyle He sendeth hym welth worldly, and fals ryches And causeth fortune, awhyle on hym to smyle Whiche with hir blyndenes doth mankynde so defyle That whyle they trust in hir fauour to sore. They damme theyr soules in hell for euermore

By large examples thou eche day mayste se The chaunge of fortune and the ende vncertayne Wherfore to boste the of hyr commodyte It is great foly and also thynge in vayne From this lewdnes thy mynde therfore refrayne And be content with fortune moderate Nor boste the nat of thy welth or estate

This day thou art ryche and despysest the pore Yet so may it fall, that for thy lewde lyuynge To morowe thou beggest thy brede from dore to dore Therfore remembre that blynde fortune wandrynge Hath nat in hyr handes power, nor gydynge The rewardes of welth, nor of felycyte But god them gydeth by his great maieste

And all thynge chaungeth as is to hym plesaunt His dedes to wysdome alwaye agreable Wherfore blynde fole be nat so ignoraunt To prayse fortune whiche is so varyable And of rewardes vnsure and chaungeable But thoughe she smyle trust nat to hir intent For amonge swete herbes ofte lurkyth the serpent

BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Ye folys that haue in fortune confydence: And boste you of welth and of prosperyte Leue of your foly, and note by euydence: Hir cours vnsure: and hir mutabylyte None in this lyfe can byde in one degre But somtyme hye, than after pore and lowe. Nowe nought set by, nowe in auctoryte Nowe full nowe voyde as waters ebbe and flowe

I am remembred that I haue often sene Great worldly ryches ende in pouertye And many one that hath in fauour ben: And hye promotyd in welth and dignyte. Hath sodaynly fallyn into calamyte Thus is it foly to trust in fortunes grace For whyle the Se floweth and is at Burdews hye It as fast ebbeth at some other place

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Of the ouer great and chargeable curyosyte of men.



He that wyll coueyt to bere more than he may And take on his sholders more than he can sustayne Suche is a fole, his dedys wyll not deny And with his owne wyll gooth to peryll and payne. He is vnwyse whiche is ioyous and fayne To offer his necke to bere that without fere Whiche were ynoughe for dyuers men to bere

That man that taketh vpon his backe alone The heuy weght of the large fyrmament Or any burdeyne whiche maketh hym to grone Whiche to sustayne his strength is ympotent No meruayle is if he fall incontynent And than whan he lowe on the grounde doth lye He oft repentyth his purpose and foly

We haue in storyes many examples great Shewynge the lewde ende of this curyosyte. I rede of Alexander that dyd often sweate In great peryls to augment his dignyte He was nat content with europe and asye Nor all the grounde under the fyrmament At the last ende, cowde nat his mynde content

As if all the erth were nat suffycyent For his small body by curyouse couetyse But at the last he must holde hym content With a small cheste, and graue nat of great pryce. Thus deth vs shewyth what thynge sholde vs suffyce And what is the ende of our curyosyte. For dethe is lyke to hye and lowde degre

What shall a kynge at his last endynge haue Of all his realme and infynyte treasoure Saue onely his towmbe, and the grounde of his graue But thoughe it be of great pryce and voloure As is conuenyent to his hye honoure. Yet lytell conforte to his soule shall it gyue But cause of bostynge to them that after lyue

Thus whan man vnto his last ende is come He nought with hym bereth of his dignytees Wherfore cynicus a man of great wysdome Lorde grettest of Grece in londes and Cytees Hathe lefte great example vnto all degrees For his great ryches his herte dyd neuer blynde But worldly pompe set clene out of his mynde

He forced of no castels nor excellent byldynge Dispysynge charges and besynes worldly But gaue his mynde to vertue and cunnynge And namely to the scyence of astronomy Consyderynge that great rest of mynde and of body With hym abydeth whiche with bolde herte is fayne To folowe vertue, and leue charges mundayne

He that so doth no weght doth vndertake Vpon his backe of so great a grauyte That his small strength must it agayne forsake. Where he that attempteth grettest thynges, and hye: Great weyght of charges and moche dignite Must lerne to suffer payne thought and vexacion By his great charges of perturbacion.

What auayle is it the worlde to obtayne In one mannys power, and all other to excell To suffer trouble, and vayne charges sustayne And at the last his pore soule gooth to hell There toren and tourmented in paynes cruell It were moche better to kepe a quyet mynde And after our deth eternall rest to fynde

He that taketh thought for euery besynes: And caryth for that whiche doth nat apertayne Nor longe to his charge, he is full of blyndnes And no houre shall rest, but styll in thought and payne Care for thy owne charges, theron set thy brayne For he a fole is that caryth or doth intende For another mannys charge whiche he can nat amende

Therfore lyue in rest after thy degre. Nor on suche thynges do nat thy mynde aply Whiche ar no thynge apertaynynge vnto the If thou so do thou shalt fynde rest therby Auoyde thou the charge of worldly mysery For godes take no thought great care ne trauayle. Whiche after deth shall do the none auayle

BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Fole clere thy iyen and of thy selfe beware Care moste for thy owne besynes and charge For other mennes take no great thought nor care If thou thy conscience mayst therof discharge A curyous man that of his tunge is large Talkynge or carynge of other, his place is best Hye in the fore top of our folysshe barge For in that place is small quyet or rest

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Of them that ar alway borowynge.



That fole that hym selfe a dettour doth make To dyuerse men, and is borowynge alway Right ponderous charges on hym doth take Borowynge of one another therwith to pay Thoughe he be glad to haue longe terme and day To hym assygned to make his payment It nought auayleth, for soone the tyme is spent

But in the meane tyme deuourynge vsurye Spoylyth makynge pore many a borewer Where they two borewed they promys to pay thre Their day of payment lenger to defarre. Thus doth oft borowynge many thousandes marre Yet some get malyce for that gode that they len And where they lent twenty gladly taketh ten.

I wyll nat say but that it is mede certayne To lene frely to one that is in nede And wyll be glade it to content agayne. But he that lenyth to haue rewarde or mede Or more than he lent, may of hell payne haue drede And he that so boroweth gayne can haue none Therby in this lyfe, but hell whan he is gone

Therfore in this satyre suche wyll I repreue And none that borowe nor lene on amyte The vsurers: fals cristen men in theyr byleue Folowe the waren way of theyr iniquyte Prohybyte by lawe iustyce and equyte Theyr vnclene hertes, and mynde, vnhappely On lucre settynge, comynge by vsury

They hepe theyr synne in quantyte horryble Labowrynge that lewde burthen gretter to make And that sore weght tedyose and terryble With a great rope vpon theyr shulders take The weyght vp taken all theyr hole ioyntes quake Thus these caytyfs with this rope and burthyn heuy Them selfe hange damnynge theyr soule eternally

A wretchyd man, alas make clere thy reason Remember thoughe god the suffer thus longe tyme He graunteth that space to amende the in season. And nat dayly to encreas thy synne and cryme Somtyme he punyssheth with infernall abhyme Shortly for synne, somtyme thoughe one mysdo He suffreth longe: but yet truste nat therto

The longer vnpunysshed, the sorer is the payne And if thou wylt nat gyue to me credence Of sodome and Gomor the Bybyll sheweth playne Howe God rightwysely ponysshed theyr offence And also Solym, towne of great excellence For vyciousnes god ponysshed bytterly Whiche sholde vs cause for to lyue rightwysely.

The rightwyse god also dyd sore chastyce Tthe Nilicolyans and them vtterly destroy For theyr contynuynge in theyr syn and vyce And theyr lynage longe kepte from welth and ioy In great trouble whiche dyd theyr hertis noy: Howe be it that they were good and innocent For theyr fathers faute they suffred punysshement

But to our purpose to retourne agayne. He that ought boroweth whiche he can nat pay Of a wolfe rauysshynge foloweth the trayne But though he all swolowe yet can he by no way Deuoure the tyme nor the prefyxed day Wherfore if he than disceyue his credytour He oft hym chastyth with iustyce and rygour

Ryght in lyke wyse our lorde omnipotent In this worlde to lyue grauntyth vs tyme and space Nat styll to synne, but vnto this intent To leue our vyce, and folowe the way of grace But if we styll contynue in one case And haue done no good to pay hym at our day In hell pryson he iustly shall vs lay

BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Thou fole mysmyndyd to large of sconscyence To the I speke that art a lewde dettour Borowe thou no thynge, noble grote ne pens. More than thou mayst agayne pay thy credytour Right so endeuer the to pay thy sauyour His right and dewty, with a glad wyll and fayne That is true seruyce, with glory and honour Than shalt thou surely escape infernall payne.

* * * * *

Of inprofytable and vayne prayers vowes and peticyons.



Here we repreue (reperue) ye and reuyle. A sorte of folys lewde of condicions Whose herte and tunge theyr soules doth defyle By theyr blynde prayers and yll peticions Suche folowe no techynge nor gode monysyons For often many of them with tunge doth pray Theyr mynde, abstract nat knowynge what they say

Man oft desyreth with great affeccion That thynge of god, whiche thynge if god wolde graunt. Sholde be at last vnto thyer destruccyon Examples hereof thou canst nat lacke nor want The great Medas somtyme kynge tryumphant. Of Phrygye By his owne folysshe desyre With paynfull hunger, his lyfe breth dyd expyre

This kynge Mydas of whom I haue you tolde Of god desyred with prayer dylygent. That all that he touchyd tourne myght vnto golde His prayer was harde, he obteynyd his intent But nat to his welth, but mortall punysshement For whan he brede or drynke tast or touche sholde Incontynent was it tourned in to golde

Thus was his prayer to his owne damage For at the laste he dyed in wo and payne For no golde coude his sore hunger asswage Nor his desyre coude he nat call agayne. Thus his peticion desyred was in vayne: And where he wenyd great welth to get therby He dyed in shame hunger and mysery.

Some dayly pray with marueylous besynes Cryeng and syghynge to god omnypotent For to haue plenty of welth ioy and ryches And to be made ryche myghty and excellent. O cursyd lyuers, o blynde men of intent On suche desyres they set theyr mynde and thought Whiche thousandes vnto shamefull ende hath brought

What profyted the myghty edefyces: Of Lycynus, or lyuelode of excesse: What profyteth the money gotten in vyces Of riche Crassus, or cresus, great ryches They all ar dede by theyr vnhappynes And that lewdely, nat by deth naturall Theyr blynde desyres chefe rote and cause of all

Another whiche is in youthes prosperyte For strength and myght often to god doth pray Some of theyr lyfe to haue prolyxyte Desyreth god, and here to byde alway In riches welth, ioy and solempne aray But yet they in glotony take suche custome That they slea them selfe longe or theyr day be come

Alas mad fole why prayest thou for age Syns it so greuous is and ymportable Unstable and full of dolour and damage Odyous to youth and intollerable Say folysshe man whiche art of mynde vnstable Is it nat great foly to any creature To pray for that thynge, whiche he can nat endure

Peleus, and Nestor and many other mo As Itackes and laertes, sore haue complayned For to longe age, euer full of payne and wo Wherwith theyr bodyes sore haue ben constrayned And with great sorowes and dyuers often payned: And to conclude brefly in one sentence Oft to age falleth moche inconuenyence

Yet ar mo folys whiche ought repreued be And they ar suche whiche styll on god doth call For great rowmes, offyces and great dignyte No thynge intendynge to theyr greuous fall For this is dayly sene, and euer shall That he that coueytys hye to clym aloft If he hap to fall, his fall can nat be soft

Some other pray for bewty and fayrnes And that to a cursyd purpose and intent Wherby they lese the heuenly blyssydnes: Theyr soule subduynge to infernall turment O ye mad folys of myndes ympotent Pray your Pater noster with deuoute herte and mynde For therin is all that is nedefull to mankynde

Our sauyour criste whyle he was on this grounde Amonge vs synners in this vale of mysery Taught his disciples this prayer whiche doth sounde Nere to this sentence, nor greatly doth nat vary (Our father wiche art in heuen) eternally Thy name be halowyd (graunt that to thy kyngdome) All we thy seruauntis worthely may come

In heuen and erth thy wyll be done alway And of thy great grace and thy benygnyte Our dayly brede graunt vnto vs this day Forgyuynge our synnes and our iniquyte: As we forgyue them that to vs detters be And to auoyde temptacion thy grace vnto vs len And vs delyuer from euery yll amen.

Whan thou hast clensyd thy mynde from syn before And sayd this prayer to thy maker deuoutly Thou nedyst nat of hym to desyre more Yet mayst thou pray and desyre rightwysly For helthe of soule within thy hole body For stedfast fayth and yll name to eschewe. And chastely to lyue (by his help) in vertue

Thus sholde thou pray thou wretche both day and nyght With herte and mynde vnto thy creatoure: And nought by foly to asshe agaynst right To hurte or losse to thy frende or neyghboure Nor to thy fo by yll wyll or rygoure But if god to thy prayers alway sholde enclyne Oft sholde come great sorowe to the and to all thyne

THE ENUOY OF BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Man clere thy mynde or thou begyn to pray Els though thy prayer be iust it is but vayne And kepe togyther thy hurte and tonge alway Or els doutles thou lesest all thy payne From lewde peticions thy mynde thou ought refrayne If thou desyre yll to thy fo by malyce At thy peticion god shall haue dysdayne For though thou be wrothe god is nat in lyke wyse

* * * * *

Of vnprofytable stody.



Nowe in this Nauy many them selfe present Of this our roylame and from beyond the see Whiche in theyr stody or lewde and neglygent Lesynge theyr tyme at the vnyuersyte Yet count they them selfe of great auctoryte With theyr proude hodes on theyr neckes hangynge They haue the lawde: but other haue the cunnynge

They thynke that they haue all scyence perfytely Within theyr hertes bostynge them of the same Though they therto theyr mynde dyd neuer aply Without the thynge, they ioy them of the name But suche mad folys to theyr great losse and shame Whyle they sholde norysshe theyr myndes with science They seke theyr pleasour, gyuen to neglygence

They wander in euery inconuenyence From strete to strete, from tauerne to tauerne But namely youth, foloweth all offence No thynge intendynge the profyte to dyscerne Nor fruyte of cunnynge wherby they myght gouerne Them selfe by reason, but suche thynges they ensue Wherby they neyther get good maners nor vertne

But he that intendeth to come to the science And godly wysdome of our elders: certayne. He must sore stody, for without dilygence And besy laboure no man can it obtayne None ought to cesse: though it firste be a payne. In good perseueraunce getteth great ryches Where no good cometh by sleuthfull ydelnes.

But moste I marueyll of other folys blynde Whiche in dyuers scyencis ar fast laborynge Both daye and nyght with all theyr herte and mynde But of gramer knowe they lytyll or no thynge Whiche is the grounde of all lyberall cunnynge Yet many ar besy in Logyke and in lawe Whan all theyr gramer is skarsly worth a strawe

If he haue onys red the olde dotrinall With his diffuse and vnparfyte breuyte He thynketh to haue sene the poyntis of grammer all. And yet of one errour he maketh two or thre Precyan or sulpice disdayneth he to se Thus many whiche say that they theyr grammer can Ar als great folys as whan they firste began

One with his speche rounde tournynge lyke a whyle Of logyke the knottis doth lows and vndo In hande with his sylogysimes, and yet doth he fele No thynge what it menyth, nor what longeth therto Nowe sortes currit: Nowe is in hande plato Another comyth in with bocardo and pheryson And out goeth agayne a fole in conclusyon

There is nought else but Est and non est Blaberynge and chydynge, as it were beawlys wyse They argue nought els but to proue man a beest Homo est Asinus is cause of moche stryfe Thus passe forth these folys the dayes of theyr lyfe In two syllabis, not gyuynge aduertence To other cunnynge doctryne, nor scyence.

I wyll nat say but that it is expedyent The to knowe of Logyke the chrafte and connynge For by argument it maketh euydent Moche obscurenes, somtyme enlumynynge The mynde: and sharpynge the wyt in many a thynge But oft yet by it a thynge playne bryght and pure Is made diffuse, vnknowen harde and obscure

It is ynoughe therof to knowe the grounde And nat therin to wast all thy lyfe holly Styll grutchynge lyke vnto the frogges sounde Or lyke the chaterynge of the folysshe pye If one afferme the other wyll deny Sophestry nor Logyke with their art talcatyfe Shewe nat the way vnto the boke of lyfe

With suche folyes tender youth is defylyd And all theyr dayes on them they set delyte But godly doctryne is from theyr myndes exylyd Whiche sholde the body and soule also profyte They take no layser, pleasur nor respyte To other scyences, pleasaunt and profytable But without ende in one thynge chat and bable

One rennyth to almayne another vnto fraunce To parys padway Lumbardy or spayne Another to Bonony, Rome or orleance To cayne, to Tolows, Athenys or Colayne And at the last retournyth home agayne More ignorant, blynder and gretter folys Than they were whan they firste went to the scolys

One bostynge the name of a lawer or deuyne His proude hode hye vpon his stately necke: Thus muste a gode clerke vnto a foule enclyne Lowt with the body and with obedyence becke And thoughe it tourne to theyr rebuke and checke Yet nowe a dayes ouer many suche there be. Whiche in stede of cunnynge vseth audacyte

The hode must answere for the follysshe student Theyr tyme hath ben lost frutles and barayne. Theyr frendes godes on suche folyes ar spent To their damage thought hunger and payne: Thus to conclude: me thynke it is but vayne The frendes to labour the dayes of theyr lyue To spare for suche scolers whiche shall neuer thryue

The great foly, the pryde, and the enormyte Of our studentis, and theyr obstynate errour Causeth me to wryte two sentences or thre More than I fynde wrytyn in myne actoure The tyme hath ben whan I was conductoure Of moche foly, whiche nowe my mynde doth greue Wherfor of this shyp syns I am gouernoure. I dare be bolde myne owne vyce to repreue

Howe be it I knowe my wordes shall suche greue As them selfe knoweth fawty and culpable But if they be wroth: take they me by the sleue For they shall bere the hode and I wyll the bable: But firste ye studentis that ar of mynde vnstable Ye wasters and getters by nyght in felde or towne Within my Nauy wolde I set you to a cable If I not fered lyst ye your selfe wolde drowne

Also I fere lyst my shyp sholde synke for syn If that Cupido and Uenus seruytours On the vnsure se my shyp entred within Or all the folys promotyd to honours I none receyue can of hye progenytours My shyp is nat dressyd for them conuenyent And to I fere lyst theyr cruell rygours: Sholde rayse to my shyp some tempest or tourment

THENUOY OF BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Fy studentis clens your myndes of this cryme Gyue ones your hertis to parfyte dylygence Howe longe in Idelnes, wyll ye lese your tyme In pryde and ryot, with all other offence Alas what profyte get ye by neglygence But spende your goodes in all iniquyte And where your frendes thynke, ye labour for scyence: Ye lese your tyme bryngynge them to pouertee

Leue of suche stody as is vnprofytable Without fruyte outher godly discyplyne And gyue your myndes to scyences lawdable Where ye may your herte set and inclyne: To Arystotyls or Platoys doctryne And nat alway on logyke or Sophestry I wyll nat say but it is a thynge dyuyne And moche worth to knowe Phylosophy

* * * * *

Of them that folysshly speke agaynst the workes of god.



He is a fole and laboreth in vayne: Whiche with small brondes of fyre flamynge bryght Entendyth with laboure besynes and payne Of the shynynge sonne for to encrease the lyght Suche one assayeth a thynge passynge his myght And is a fole to set thought or delyte To mende that thynge whiche god hath made perfyte

But yet is he a moche gretter fole truely Whiche wyll correct that thynge whiche god hath done And doth nat his herte his wyll and mynde aply To goddes workes and deuyne prouysyon Of all other maddest is his condycion And more frantyfe forsoth I may hym call Than they that ar vext with furyes infernall:

(Thou fole) the myght of god omnipotent In vertue and wysdome so largely doth extende His maiesty, and power is so excellent His glorious godhede his workes doth defende So that no mortall man can them amende Wenest thou mad fole that thou amende cannest ought That he hath done: whiche made all thynge of nought

He that hath made the heuen and firmament The londe, the se, and euery other thynge Is so discrete, so wyse, and prouydent Before his presence parfytely seynge All thynge to come that neuer hath had beynge His workes and dedys ar so perfyte and ryght That none can increas nor yet decreas his myght

He doth all thynge dispose moderate and dispence Knowynge our mynde, and what is to vs most mete All thynge is open and playne in his presence Our inwarde thought must he nedes knowe and wete And euery fortune is playne before his fete He hath all thynge by lawe and order drest And doth no thynge but it is for the best

Therfore whether he gyue thunder snowe or rayne Wynde or wether, tempest or tourment Frost lyghtnynge, fayre wether, outher storme sodayne Mystes or clowdes, yet man sholde be content And nat with worde nouther inwarde intent Agaynst god grutche, but euery day and houre Magnyfye the dedys of god his creatoure

It were moche better thou fole that thou were dome Than to cast lewde wordes agaynst thy lorde in vayne Thou fole he worketh no thynge but by wysedome And yet art thou nat content but dost complayne Thou sekest vengeaunce (for thy synne) and payne In hell for euer, thynkynge thy selfe so wyse To teche thy god, and his warke to dispyse

It is nat lawfull for any, hye nor lowe To be so bolde so blynde or so cruell Grutchynge wordes agaynst his god to throwe Thughe to theyr plaseour a thynge nat fortune well Take example by the children of Israell Whiche oft for this synne suffred great payne and wo Slayne and distroyed, so haue ben many mo

Many a lewde body without wysdome or rede Grutche in theyr myndes, and openly do blame Almyghy god, whan theyr children ar dede Where rather they ought to enioye of the same For it myght fortune that great rebuke and shame Myght to theyr frendes haue come by theyr synne and cryme Soone after: if they had nat dyed at that tyme

Wherfore this one clause is my conclusyon That god our maker is wyse and prouydent Blame nat his workes by thyne abusyon For all that he doth is for the best intent But if that god sholde alwaye assent To our desyres and euer perfourme our wyll Our owne requestis sholde tourne vs to great yll

ALEXANDER BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

O ye mad myndes that no thynge vnderstonde O man presumptuous and vnobedyent Howe darest thou be so bolde to take on honde To repreue the workes of god omnipotent Wylt thou hym teche, as more wyse and prouydent Than he is (whiche made all thynge of nought) Leue of this thy foly, and holde thy selfe content For thou art a fole to set theron thy thought

* * * * *

Of them that gyue jugement on other.



Many fallyth in great peryll and damage And greuous deth by the vyce of folysshnes Perseuerantly bydynge in theyr outrage Theyr soule infect with synne and viciousnes And though that deth hym alway to them addres Yet hope they in longe lyfe and prosperyte And neuer asswageth theyr blynde iniquyte

The tyme passeth as water in a ryuere No mortall man can it reuoke agayne Dethe with his dartis vnwarely doth apere It is the ende of euery man certayne The last of all ferys and ende of worldly payne But thoughe we knowe that we all must haue an ende We slepe in synne disdaynynge vs to amende

Some thynke them gode, iust and excellent Myghty stronge and worthy of preemynence: Charitable, chast, constant and innocent Nat doutynge deth nor other inconuenyence But yet ar they wrappyd sore in synne and offence And in a vayne hope, contynue in suche wyse That all the worlde (saue them selfe) they dispyse

They take on them the workes of god omnipotent To iuge the secrete of mannys mynde and thought And where no sygne is sene playne and euydent They iuge a man saynge, his lyfe is nought And if deth one hath vnto his last ende brought (As mad) they mende nat theyr mysgouernaunce Nat thynkynge that they ensue must the same daunce

Suche folys fayne causes and often tymes say: That he that is dede vsed ryot and moche foly Whiche causyd hym to dye before his day And that he was feble, or full of malancoly Ouer sad, or prowde, disceytfull and pope holy Uiciously lyuynge in couetyse and gyle Wherfore god suffred hym lyue the shorter whyle

Lo these blynde folys saciat with vyce Jugeth hym that perchaunce dyd nat amys Whyle he here lyuyd, and is in paradyce Rewardyd for his workes in endles ioy and blys Where as this lewde Juger, here in this worlde is Styll lyuynge in synne, suffrynge great payne and wo And though he thynke hym gode shall neuer come therto

He that in synne here lyeth fettered fast And iugeth the deth of his frende or neyboure Whiche from this lyfe is departed and past. Let hym beware, for onys come shall the houre That he must fele dethis dolorouse rygoure. And after that endure infernall punysshement For iugynge and mysdemynge of people innocent

The terme and day, of deth is moche vnsure The deth is sure, the houre is vncertayne Deth is generall to euery creature Theder we must all, be it pleasour or payne Wherfore wysdome wyll that we shulde refrayne From folysshe demynge and nons deth discus After deth god wot howe it shall be with vs

Alas full often a iust man gode and true Of mynde innocent sad sober and sympyll Passynge his tyme in goodnes and vertue Is of these folys thought and demyd for yll And he that is nought, frowarde of dede and wyll Of these folys blynde frantyke and wode. Without all reason is iugyd to be goode

Wherfore I proue that a blynde fole thou art To iuge or deme a mannys thought or intent For onely god knoweth our mynde and hart Wherto we gree and to what thynge we assent But who that is rightwyse iust, and innocent And louyth god with honour and with reuerence Than, may he boldely iuge anothers offence

ALEXANDER BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

Amende you folys: do way these folysshe wayes Take ye no charge: nat mete for your degre. And note these wordes: whiche criste our sauyour sayes Juge nat another, and thou shalt nat iugyd be It longeth onely to the hye dyuynyte To iuge our mynde: for he is true iustyce All thynge discernynge by right and equyte No man sholde deme, whyle hym selfe is in vyce

* * * * *

Of pluralitees that is to say of them whiche charge them selfe with many benefycis.



Amonge our folys delytynge them in vyces Is yet another sorte of the speritualte Whiche them ouerchargeth with dyuers benefyces And namely suche that lowest ar in degre Of byrth and cunnynge, of this condycion be Defylynge goddes rentis and the chirches goode Them selfe ouer ladynge, as men frantyke and wode

The weght is so great they can it nat endure Theyr myght is small, theyr cunnynge is moche lesse Thus this great charge wherof they haue the cure To infernall Fenn doth this pore Asse oppresse And to an Asse moste lyke he is doutles Whiche takynge on his backe sackes nyne or tenne. Destroyeth hymselfe them leuynge in the fenne

But though one prebende were to hym suffycient Or one benefyce his lyuynge myght suffyse Yet this blynde fole is nat therwith content But labowreth for mo, and alway doth deuyse Fals meanes to come therto by couetyse He gapeth with his wyde throte insaciable And neuer can content his wyll abhomynable

So for the loue of the peny and ryches. He taketh this charge to lyue in welth and eas. Howe be it that sole that hath suche besynes And dyueres charges fyndeth great disseas Neyther shall he god, nor yet the worlde pleas And shall with his burthyns his mynde so vex and comber That halfe his cures, can he nat count nor nomber

These carefull caytyfs, that ar of this same sort With cures ar ouerchargyd so that of theyr mynde. Rest haue they none, solace, pleasour nor conforte Howe be it they thynke therby great welth to fynde They gape yet euer, theyr maners lyke the wynde Theyr lyfe without all terme or sertaynte If they haue two lyuynges, yet loke they to haue thre

The folys whose hertis vnto this vyce ar bounde Upon theyr sholders bereth aboute a sacke. Insaciable without botome, outher grounde: They thynke them nat lade though all be on theyr backe. The more that they haue (the more they thynke they lacke) What deuyll can stop theyr throte so large and wyde Yet many all waste aboute Ryot and pryde

But yet is this moche more abhomynable That asses vntaught without wysdome or scyence Haue theyr proude myndes moste vnsaciable Nat commynge to worshyp by vertue nor prudence Yet counte they them worthy of this excellence Courters become prestis nought knowynge but the dyce They preste not for god, but for a benefyce

The clerke of the kechyn is a prest become In full trust to come to promosyon hye No thynge by vertue cunnynge nor wysdome But by couetyse, practyse and flatery The Stepyll and the chirche by this meane stand awry For some become rather prestis for couetyse. Than for the loue of god or his seruyce.

Alas oft goddes goodes and cristis herytage Of suche folys is wastyd and spent in vayne In great folyes mundaynes and outrage Where it decreed, and ordeyned is certayne. That prestis sholde helpe pore people that lyue in payne And with suche goodes kepe hospytalyte Whiche pryde ryot and Uenus suffreth nat to be

Thus is the grettest parte of the spiritualte Pore preste, persone, vicayr, relygyon and prelate With couetyse acloyde outher prodigalyte And folys promotyd causyth good clerkis haue hate Say lordes and bysshops with other of estate What mouyth you so gladly, suche to promote Whiche haue no cunnynge their wyt skant worth a grote

Wyll ye alway the folysshe asse ouercharge With suche burthyns wherwith it can nat fare And suffer other to walke and ren at large And where they best myght bere theyr backes ar left bare And that is worst of all, suche folys can nat be ware But whan they ar promotyd after theyr owne entent. Yet theyr insaciable mynde can neuer be content.

Some make exchanges and permutacions Some take to ferme, and some let out agayne Other folys for hope make resignacions And some for one god scosyth gladly twayne Some lyueth longe in hunger and in payne And in the somer day skarsly drynketh twyse Sparynge monay therwith to by a benefyce

Some for no wages in court doth attende With lorde or knyght, and all for this polecy To get of his lorde a benefyce at the ende And in the meane tyme ensueth rybawdry And somtyme laboureth by chraft of symony. He playeth a fals cast, nat cessynge to coniure Tyll of some benefyce he at the last be sure

Than if this lorde haue in hym fauoure, he hath hope To haue another benefyce of gretter dignyte And so maketh a fals suggestyon to the pope For a Tot quot outher els a pluralyte Than shall he nat be pleased with .II. nouther thre But dyuers wyll he haue ay choppynge and changynge So oft a fole all and a gode clerke no thynge

These of nought force so that they may haue gayne And golde ynough to spende on rybawdry and pryde They haue the profyte, another hath the payne The cure of the soulys of them is set asyde And no meruayle, for howe sholde they abyde. To teche their parysshynges vertue wysdome or grace Syns no man can be atonys in euery place

Alas these folys our mayster criste betray Of mannes soule wherof they haue the cure And settynge in their stede syr Johnn of garnesey They thynketh them selfe dischargyd quyte and sure These folys note nat that euery creature. Whiche here of soulys doth cure or charge take At domys day a compt for them shall make

But if I sholde touche all the enormytees The immoderat couetyse and desyre of dignyte That nowe is vsed amonge all the degrees Of benefycyd men ouer all the spiritualte I fere displeasour, and also I often se That trouth is blamed, and nat ay best to tell But he that in this lyfe wyll alway besy be To get dyuers prebendes shall haue the last in hell

THENUOY OF BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

What meane ye gyders of Christis herytage Shall ye neuer leue this your deuowrynge mynde Shall ye no tyme your couytyse asswage Whiche in goddes seruyce your hartis sore doth blynde Let this fals traytour no place amonge you fynde Graunt hym no rowne in churche nor in quere. For this is sure ye shall all leue behynde We haue no Cyte, nor place abydynge here

* * * * *

Of them that prolonge from day to day to amende themselfe.



If vnto any almyghty god doth sende From heuen aboue by inspyracion dyuyne Wyll and gode mynde his synnes to amende And with his grace his thoughtes enlumyne If that synner wyll nat therto enclyne But doth dyffer and dryue frome day to day A fole he is, no wyse man wyll denay

Yet many folowe this inconuenience And knowynge theyr owne vyce, and lyfe full of ordure The payne therof, and howe euery offence And synne is punysshed of eche creature Also they knowe that theyr deth is vnsure And dye they must knowynge no houre nor space Yet synne they styll, nat receyuynge this grace

They folowe the crowes cry to theyr great sorowe Cras cras cras to morowe we shall amende And if we mende nat than, than shall we the next morowe Outher shortly after, we shall no more offende Amende mad fole whan god this grace doth sende He is vnwyse whiche trustes the crowes songe And that affermyth that he shall lyue so longe

Syns deth (as I haue sayde) is so vnstable Wherfore we ought alway vs to prouyde And mende our lyfe and synne abhomynable For though that thou be hole at the euyn tyde Thou knowest nat sure that thou shall here abyde Untyll the morne but if thou dye in that space It shall be to late for the to cry cras cras

Syns it is in thy power that thou may Amende thy selfe whan god inspyreth the Why shalt thou tary vnto another day The longer tary the lesse apt shalt thou be. In olde sores is grettest ieopardye Whan costome and vse is tourned to nature It is right harde to leue: I the ensure

Therfore if that thou lewdly fall in syn By thy frayle flesshe, and the fals fendes trayne Take nat the vse, contynue nat therin But by confessyon shortly ryse agayne Synne alway thretenyth vnto the doer, payne And grutche of conscience with moche thought and wo Yet alwaye ar we redy and prone therto

Mannys lyfe on erth is euyn a chyualry Agaynst our flesshe fyghtyng whiche often doth vs shame Also the deuyll our goostly ennemy On his parte labours to get vs in his frame Thus oft we fall, and than our foly blame Repentynge sore, and wyllynge to refrayne But within an houre we fall therto agayne

Thus euer to vyce ar we redy and prone The gyftis of grace we clene from vs exclude We haue great cause sore to complayne and mone We leue that thynge (our myndes ar so rude) That myght vs gyde to helth and beatytude Thus our owne foly, and our owne blynde madnes Us often ledyth vnto great wretchydnes

And if it fortune, that at any tyme Within our myndes we purpose stedfastly For to confesse our synne, excesse, or cryme Agayne our thought is changyd by and by Away than ren we with the crowys crye With one cras, to morowe, perauenture twayne Without regarde had, vnto infernall payne

But in the meane space if that deth vntretable Arrest the with his mace, fyers and cruell And for thy synne and lyfe abhomynable By iustyce damme thy soule for euer to hell Than woldest thou gladly (If thou myght) do well But there is no grace but doloure payne and sorowe Than is to late to crye cras cras to morowe

THE ENUOY OF THE ACTOUR.

Say what delyte, thou fole or what pleasoure Takest thou in synne and voluptuosyte It is small sothly, and passeth euery houre Lyke to the water, and that in myserye Therfore set nat in synne thy felycyte This day begyn thy lewde lyfe to refuse Perchaunce to morowe sholde be to late to the So sholde cras the crwys songe the sore abuse

* * * * *

Of hym that is Jelous ouer his wyfe and watcheth hir wayes without cause, or euydent tokyn of hir myslyuynge.



Orestes was neuer so blynde and mad as is he Whiche for his wyfe taketh thought and charge Watchynge hir wayes, thoughe that she gyltles be This fole styll fereth, if she be out at large Lyst that some other his harnes sholde ouercharge But for all his fere and carefull Jelowsy If she be nought there is no remedy.

Thou fole I proue, thy watchynge helpeth nought Thy labour lost is, thou takest this care in vayne In vayne thou takest this Jelowsy and thought In vayne thou sleest thy selfe with care and payne And of one doute thou fole thou makest twayne And neuer shalt fynde eas nor mery lyuynge (Whyle thou thus lyuest) but hatered and chydynge

For locke hir fast and all hir lokes marke. Note all hir steppys, and twynklynge of hir iye. Ordeyne thy watchers and dogges for to barke Bar fast thy dores and yet it wyll nat be Close hir in a Toure with wallys stronge and hye But yet thou fole thou lesist thy trauayle For without she wyll no man can kepe hir tayle

And yet more ouer breche hir with plate and mayle And for all that if she be nought of kynde She shall disceyue the (If she lyst) without fayle But if that she be chast of dede and mynde Hir selfe shall she kepe, though thou hir neuer bynde Thus they that ar chast of nature, wyll byde so And nought wyll be nought what so euer thou do

Thus is it foly and causeth great debate Bytwene man and wyfe, whan he by Jelowsy. His wyfe suspectyth, and doth watche or counterwayt Or hir mysdemyth and kepyth in stratly. Wherfore me thynke it is best remedy For hym that gladly wolde escape the hode Nat to be Jelous: but honest lyuynge and gode

The toure of bras that callyd was darayne. Coude nat the damsell (by name Danes) defende But that Jupiter fonde a cautell and trayne In a golden shoure into hir to discende And to be short, at conclusyon and ende This mayde for all this Toure was there defylyd. And by this lorde was she there brought with childe

By this example it apereth euydent That it is foly a woman to kepe or close For if she be of lewde mynde or intent Outher preuy or apert there about she goys Deuysynge wayes with hir good man to glose But specially if that he hir suspect With a hode shall he vnwars be ouerdect

But in the worlde right many other be Whiche neuer folowe this fals and lothly way We haue example of one Penolope Whiche though that she alone was many a day Hir husbonde gone, and she vexed alway. By other louers: yet was she euer trewe Unto hir olde: and neuer changyd for newe

I fynde that often this folysshe Jelowsy Of men; causyth some women to mysdo Where as (were nat theyr husbondes blynde foly) The pore wymen knowe nat what longyd therto Wherfore suche men ar folys and mad also And with theyr hodes whiche they them selfe purchace Within my shyp shall haue a rowme and place

For where as perchaunce theyr wyfes ar chaste and goode By mannys vnkyndnes they chaunge and turne theyr herte So that the wyfe must nedes gyue them a hode But to be playne some wymen ar esy to conuert For if one take them where they can nat start. What for theyr husbondes folysshe Jelowsy And theyr owne pleasour: they scars can ought deny

THE ENUOY OF THE ACTOUR.

Therfore ye wymen lyue wysly and eschewe These wanton wowers and suche wylde company Get you gode name by sadnes and vertue Haunt no olde quenys that nourysshe rybawdry Than fere ye nat your husbondes Jelowsy If ye be fawtles, chaste and innocent But wanton wowers ar ful of flatery Euer whan they labour for their intent.

Be meke, demure, bocsome, and obedyent, Gyue none occasyon to men by your foly If one ought asshe, deny it incontynent And euer after auoyde his company Beware of cornes, do nat your erys aply To pleasaunt wordes nor letters eloquent If that Helena had so done certaynly She had nat ven rauysshed by handes violent

* * * * *

Of auoutry, and specially of them y^t ar bawdes to their wyues, knowynge and wyll nat knowe, but kepe counseyll, for couetyse, and gaynes or auauntage.



O what disorder, what shame and what domage Is nowe brought in, and right lykely to abyde In the sacrament of holy mariage The fere of payne and lawe is set a syde Faythe is clene lost, and fewe them selfe do gyde After theyr othe, but for lacke of punysshement. They brake and despyse this dyuyne sacrament

Alas the lawe that Julius dyd ordeyne Agaynst auoutry: is nowe a slepe or dede None feryth iustyce punysshement nor payne Both man and woman ar past all fere and drede Theyr promes brekynge, without respect or hede Had to theyr othe, by mariage solemnysed The bed defylyd. the sacrament despysed

Many ar whiche thynke it is a thynge laudable Anothers sponse to pullute and dyffame And howe beit the synne is moche abhomynable They fere nat god, nor dout nat worldly shame But rather boldly they bost them of the same They note no thynge the mortall punysshement Taken on auoutrers in the olde testament

Yet is another thynge more lothsome and vyle That many husbondes knowynge theyr wyues syn Absent themselfe and stop theyr iyen the whyle Kepynge the dore whyle the auoutrer is within They forse no thynge so they may money wyn Lyuynge as bawdes, and that to theyr owne wyues O cursyd money, this madnes thou contryuys

O cursyd husbonde thou ought to be asshamyd To set so great fors for syluer or for golde That thou for them thy wyfe wyll se diffamyd And helpe therto: ye: and the dede beholde Blame it blynde dryuyll: by the lawe so thou sholde And nat therat to gyggyll laghe and Jest It is a lewde byrde that fyleth his owne nest

The Hystory of Atreus expressyth playne Howe he (by his owne brother) for auoutry Was dryuen from his royalme and his childre slayne For his mysdede: without: let or remedy These children thus bought theyr faders mad foly What shall I wryte the wo and heuynes Whiche Tarquyn had for rauysshynge lucres

I rede in the hystory of one Virginius Whiche to thyntent this foule synne to eschewe Whan his doughter was desyred by Clodius And that by force; the fader his dowghter slewe Bytwene the handes of Clodius vntrue The fader answered (whan men his dede dyd blame) Better is to dye chast: than longe to lyue in shame

But of auoutry somwhat more to speke In it is yre Enuy and paynfull pouertye. And also he or she that mariage doth breke May fere of deth eternall whan they dye And here without welth ioy and rest shall they be And well ar they worthy (forsoth) of sore tourment In hell: for brekynge this holy sacrament

But in the meane tyme here shalt thou haue discorde And neuer prosper in vertue nor ryches And lothsome be before the almyghty lorde Thy dedes shall purchace mysfortune and distres Thou lyue shalt in shame and dye in wretchydnes And if thou procede therin and nat amende Some great shame shalt thou haue before thyne ende.

THE ENUOY OF THE ACTOUR.

O creatures vnkynde leue ye this outrage Breke nat your othe whiche ye made solemly Eche one to other for to lyue in mariage Defyle ye it nat by synne and vylany On both partis if ye lyue faythfully After your promes: in loue, fayth and concorde Than shall ye in erth encreas and multyply And after haue syght of the almyghty lorde

Let all spousys in theyr myndes comprehende The lawys and decrees of the olde testament Howe they that in auoutry dyd offende Were outher stonyd or els openly brent Wherfore syns goddes son omnypotent. Confermed hath the olde testament with the newe Auoutrers nowe deserue that same punysshement But well is to them, that stedfast ar and trewe

* * * * *

Of hym that nought can and nought wyll lerne, and seyth moche, lytell berynge away, I mene nat theuys.



Saynt George to borowe our Nauy is aflote Forth shall we sayle, thoughe that it be a payne And moche laboure to forge a pryuate bote For euery faute: yet shall I nat refrayne My hande nor penne: thoughe vnsure be my gayne My laboure sure: my wyt and reason thynne Than leue a thynge vnendyd better nat begynne

But in this place shall I a Shyp ordayne For that fole: that heryth great doctryne Wherby good maners and vertue aperyth playne He seth all goodnes, stody, and disciplyne And yet wyll nat his mynde therto enclyne But though he knowe what thynge is godlyest Ouer all the worlde, yet is he styll a beest.

Many of this sort wander and compase All studies, the wonders of the worlde to se With vnstabyll wynges fleynge from place to place Some seyth lawe and some dyuynyte But for all this byde they in one degre And if they were Asses and folys blynde before After all these syghtes yet ar they moche more

They se moche nought lernynge, and hauynge no delyte In wysdome nor maners vertue nor goodnes Theyr tyme is loste, without wysdome or profyte Without grace, or other holynes But whyle they labour thus with besynes If they se ought newe, or any folysshe toy That lyghtly they lerne, and set theron theyr ioy.

By this desyre folys may knowen be For wytles men of fleynge mynde and brayne Ar best pleasyd with thynges of neweltye And them to haue, they spare no cost nor payne To dyuers londes to ren but all in vayne And so they labour alway from londe to londe To se all wonders, but nought they vnderstonde

Some fle to se the wonders of englonde Some to the court to se the maners there Some to Wallys, Holonde, to Fraunce or Irlonde To Lybye, afryke, and besyly enquere. Of all marueyles, and skantly worth a here Some vnto Fraunce and some to Flaunders ren To so the wayes, and workes of cunnynge men

And to be shorte ouer all they range Spendynge theyr goodes about vnthryftynes In countrees knowen, vnknowen and strange But whan theyr iourney they homwarde must addres As folys vnware, and vagabundes thryftles They haue nought lerned, kept, nor with them brought Of maners, wysdome or other thynge that is ought

They that by the se sayle to londes strange Oft chaunge the place and planete of the fyrmament But theyr mynde nor maners they ne turne nor chaunge And namely suche that ar lewde and neglygent What euer they se styll one is theyr intent Whan he departyd, If that he were a sote Agayne anone he comyth in the same mynde and cote

Say mad folys blynde ouersene, and worthy scorne Fayne wolde I knowe what necessyte ye haue To go from the place where ye were bred and borne Into another londe to lerne to play the knaue Your mynde vnstable sheweth playne that ye raue Laboure nat so sore, to lerne to be a fole That cometh by it selfe without any other scole

He that is borne in walys or small brytayne To lerne to pyke and stele nedys nat go to Rome. What nede we sayle to Flaunders or Almayne To lerne glotony, syns we may it lerne at home Suche lewdnes soon may we lerne of our wombe He that wyll lerne falshode gyle or sotelte May lerne it here as well as beyonde the se.

To passe the se to lerne Uenus rybawdry It is great foly, for thou mayst lerne thy fyll In shoppis Innes and sellers, ye somtyme openly At saynt Martyns Westmynster or at the tour hyll So that I fere all London, in tyme it shall fyll For it is there kept in lyght and in darke That the pore Stuys decays for lacke of warke

But brefely to speke, and this to set a syde He that on vyce, and synne wyll set his entent May lerne it in Englonde, if he at home abyde And that of all sortis: god sende amendement But if thou alway wyll nede be dylygent To labour in the worlde about from place to place Do as dyd Plato, than shalt thou fynde great grace

This godly plato laboured with dilygence To Egypt, and other londes sparynge for no payne Where euer he came: augmentynge his scyence And at the last retourned to Grece agayne His countrey natyf: with laude and name souerayne Thus he for all his wysdome laboured besyly But that fowle that nought can nought settyth by

Wherfore that gose that styll about wyll wander Moche seynge and herynge, and nought berynge away Shall home come agayne as wyse as a gander But more fole is he that may lerne euery day Without cost or laboure out of his owne countrey And whan the well of wysdome renneth by theyr dore Yet looth they the water as if that it were soure

ALEXANDER BARKLAY AD FATUOS VT DENT LOCUM OCTO SECUNDARIIS BEATE MARIE DE OTEREY QUI QUIDEM PRIMA HUIUS RATIS TRANSTRA MERENTUR.

Soft folys soft, a lytell slacke your pace Tyll I haue space you to order by degre I haue eyght neyghbours, that firste shall haue a place Within this my shyp, for they most worthy be They may theyr lernynge receyue costeles and fre. Theyr wallys abuttynge and ioynynge to the scoles. No thynge they can, yet nought wyll they lerne nor se Therfore shall they gyde this one shyp of foles.

THE ENUOY OF BARKLAY.

O vnauysyd, vnwyse and frowarde man Great cause thou hast to morne sore and complayne Whan no goodnes vertue nor wyt thou can And yet to lerne thou hast scorne and dysdayne Alas man mende, and spare no maner payne To get wysdome, and it thou shalt nat want Hym that nought wyll knowe, god wyll nat knowe certayne Wo is hym that wylfully is ignorant.