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.