The Ship of Fools, Volume 1-2 by Sebastian Brant (love story books to read .txt) 📖
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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.
[Illustration: Who that reputyth hym selfe iust and fawtles
Of maners gode, and of lyuynge commendable.
And iugeth other (parchaunce that ar gyltles)
To be of a condicion reprouable
Hymselfe nat notynge, thoughe that he were culpable
He is a fole, and onys shall haue a fall
Syns he wyll other iuge, hym selfe yet worst of all.]
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.
[Illustration: That myller is a fole and here shall haue a barge
And as a mad man shall fast therin be bounde
Whiche his Asse wyll with so many sackes charge
That the pore beste for payne fallys to the grounde
Many in the chirche lyke hym may be founde.
Whiche so many benefycis labour to procure
That their small myght can nat the charge endure.]
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.
[Illustration: He that cras cras syngeth with the crowe
Deferrynge the tyme of his amendement
Amonge our folys, in this our shyp shall rowe
For his presumpcion, dull mynde and blynde
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