The Ship of Fools, Volume 1-2 by Sebastian Brant (love story books to read .txt) 📖

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

 

*

 

Of them that correct other and yet them

selfe do nought and synne worse than

they whom they so correct.

 

[Illustration: He lacketh reason and vnderstandynge to

Whiche to a towne or Cyte knoweth the way

And shewyth other howe they may thether go

Hym selfe wandrynge aboute from day to day

In myre and fen, though his iourney thether lay

So he is mad whiche to other doth preche and tell

The wave to heuyn, and hym selfe goth to hell.]

 

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.

 

*

 

Of hym that fyndeth ought of another

mannys it nat restorynge to the owner.

 

[Illustration: He that ought fyndyth outher by day or nyght

Usynge it as his owne, as thynge gottyn iustly

And thynketh that he so may do by lawe and right

Suche is disceyuyd, and thynketh wrongfully

For why the deuyll our goostly ennemy

Doth hym so counseyll and in his erys blowe

Disceyuynge in his bondes, as he doth many mo]

 

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

 

*

 

Of the sermon or erudicion of wysdome

bothe to wyse men and folys.