Trouble nat thy selfe (thou man) where is no nede
And arme thou thy selfe with goodly pacyence
Be sure it is great foly to take hede
Unto backbytynge syns that no resystence
May be founde to withstande his violence
And take thou this one thynge for thy comfort
That none wyse, or good, wyll commyt this offence
But all ar caytyffes, that ar of this lewde sort.
* * * * *
Of mockers, and scorners, and
false accusers.
[Illustration: Yet ar mo Folys whiche mocke and scorneth fast
Suche as them shewyth wysdome and doctryne
And at theyr hedes (vngoodly) stonys cast
In mynde disdaynynge to wysdome to enclyne
But gladly they ensue the discyplyne
Of folysshe mockers, let wyse men them eschewe
For no correccion can brynge them to vertue]
O Hertles folys, haste here to our doctryne
Leue of the wayes of your enormyte
Enforce you to my preceptis to enclyne
For here shall I shewe you good and veryte
Enclyne, and ye fynde shall great prosperyte
Ensuynge the doctryne of our faders olde
And godly lawes in valour worth great golde
Who that wyll folowe the graces manyfolde
Whiche ar in vertue, shall fynde auauncement
Wherfore ye folys that in your syn ar bolde
Ensue ye wysedome and leue your lewde intent
Wysdome is the way of men most excellent
Therfore haue done, and shortly spede your pace
To quaynt your selfe and company with grace.
Lerne what is vertue, therin is great solace
Lerne what is trouth sadnes and prudence
Let grutche be gone, and grauyte purchace
Forsake your foly and inconuenyence
Cesse to be folys, and ay to sue offence
Folowe ye vertue, chefe rote of godlynes
For it and wysdome is grounde of clenlynes
Wysedome and vertue two thynges ar doutles
Whiche man endueth with honour specyall
But suche hertis as slepe in folysshnes
Knoweth no thynge, and wyll nought knowe at all
But in this lytell barge in pryncypall
All folysshe mockers I purpos to repreue
Clawe he his backe that felyth ytche or greue
Mockers and scorners that ar harde of byleue
With a rugh combe here wyll I clawe and grate
To proue if they wyll from theyr vyce remeue
And leue theyr foly whiche causeth great debate
Suche caytyfs spare neyther pore man nor estate
And where theyr selfe ar moste worthy of dyrysion
Other men to scorne is all theyr moste condicion
Yet ar mo folys of this abusion
Whiche of wyse men despyseth the doctryne
With mowes, mockes, scorne, and collusyon
Rewardynge rebukes, for theyr good disciplyne
Shewe to suche wysdome, yet shall they nat enclyne
Unto the same, but set no thynge therby
But mocke thy doctryne, styll or openly
So in the worlde it apereth comonly
That who that wyll a Fole rebuke or blame
A mocke or mowe shall he haue by and by
Thus in derysyon, haue folys theyr speciall game
Correct a wyse man, that wolde eschewe yll name
And fayne wolde lerne, and his lewde lyfe amende
And to thy wordes he gladly shall intende
If by mysfortune a rightwyse man offende
He gladly suffreth a iuste correccion
And hym that hym techyth taketh for his frende
Hym selfe puttynge mekely vnto subieccion
Folowynge his preceptis and good dyreccion
But if that one a Fole rebuke or blame
He shall his techer, hate, sclaunder, and dyffame
Howbeit his wordes, oft turne to his owne shame
And his owne dartis retourne to hym agayne
And so is he sore woundyd with the same
And in wo endyth, great mysery and payne
It also prouyd full often is certayne
That they that on mockes alway theyr myndes cast
Shall of all other be mocked at the last
He that goeth right, stedfast sure and fast
May hym well mocke that goth haltynge and lame
And he that is whyte may well his scornes cast
Agaynst a man of ynde, but no man ought to blame
Anothers vyce whyle he vsyth the same
But who that of synne is clene in dede and thought
May hym well scorne whose lyuynge is starke nought
The scornes of Naball full dere sholde haue ben bought
If Abigayll his wyfe discrete and sage
Had nat by kyndnes right crafty meanes sought
The wrath of Dauyd to temper and asswage
Hath nat two berys in theyr fury and rage
Two and fourty Children rent and torne
For they the Prophete Helyseus dyd scorne
So myght they curse the tyme that they were borne
For theyr mockynge of this Prophete dyuyne
So many other of this sorte often mowrne
For theyr lewde mockes, and fall in to ruyne
Thus is it foly for wyse men to enclyne
To this lewde flocke of Folys for se thou shall
Them moste scornynge that ar most bad of all