The Ship of Fools, Volume 1 2
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Sebastian Brandt >> The Ship of Fools, Volume 1 2
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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.
[Illustration: Come nere folys and rede your ignorance
And great losse procedynge of your owne foly
Whiche without gode and discrete purueaunce
Any great werke wyll bylde or edefye.
All suche ar folys what man wyll it deny
For he that wyll bylde before he count his cost
Shall seldome well ende, so that is made is lost.]
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.
[Illustration: That gloton or dronkarde, vyle in goddes sight
Shall hardly escape the weyght of pouertye.
Whiche drynketh and deuoureth both day and nyght
Therin onely settynge all his felycyte
His lothsome lust and his bestyalyte
Shall brynge vnto destruccion fynally
His soule, his godes and his wretchyd body.]
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.
[Illustration: Yet fynde I folys of another sorte
Whiche gather and kepe excessyfe ryches
With it denyeng their neyghboures to conforte
Whiche for nede lyueth in payne and wretchydnes
Suche one by fortune may fall into distres
And in lyke wyse after come to mysery
And begge of other, whiche shall to hym deny.]
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.
[Illustration: A fole he is and voyde of reason
Whiche with one hounde tendyth to take
Two harys in one instant and season
Rightso is he that wolde vndertake
Hym to two lordes a seruaunt to make
For whether, that he be lefe or lothe
The one he shall displease, or els bothe.]
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
* * * * *
Of to moche spekynge or bablynge.
[Illustration: He that his tunge can temper and refrayne
And asswage the foly of hasty langage
Shall kepe his mynde from trowble, sadnes and payne
And fynde therby great ease and auauntage
Where as a hasty speker falleth in great domage
Peryll and losse, in lyke wyse as the pye
Betrays hir byrdes by hir chatrynge and crye.]
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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