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

commende

Must fully purpose and fyx within his mynde

Lyberall to be and nat euer to intende

To false Auaryce, whiche many one doth blynde

And if he purpose hye honours for to fynde

Or hym auaunce to any great degre

He must haue mekenes and lyberalyte

 

He must of maners also be commendable

And of his speche als pleasaunt as he can

For an olde prouerbe true and verytable

Sayth that good lyfe and maners makyth man

But euery lawe doth dam and also ban

The churlysshe vyce and lewde of vnkyndnes

Whiche dryeth vp the well of bounte and goodnes

 

For vnkynde folys if one labour dylygent

And so brynge theyr worke vnto good conclusyon

They fynde yet fautis and so ar nat content

Withdrawynge the rewarde by theyr collusyon

Wherfore let suche thynke it no abusyon

Nor haue disdayne ne yet in mynde complayne

If the pore laborer gyue vp his worke agayne

 

These frowarde Folys, doth wronge and iniury

To suche as to them do profyte and honour

For kyndnes, they render shame and vylany

Rebukes sclander extorcion and rygour

But whyle they hope to come to great valoure

And by such rygour to honours to aryse

Theyr hope vanyssheth as doth the snowe or yce

 

Wherfore who that puttyth one to besynes

To charge or labour of body or of mynde

Ought hym rewarde agayne for his kyndnes

If he do nat forsoth he is unkynde

But specyally as I oft wryten fynde

It is a thynge whiche doth for vengeaunce cry

A pore laborer to put to Iniury

 

What man can wryte the inconuenyence

Whiche groweth of this lewde and cursyd vyce

Vnkyndnes causeth great myschefe and offence

And is repugnynge to reason and iustyce

Wherfore let suche that wyll be namyd wyse

Leue it: and folowe lyberalyte

Whiche is noryssher of loue and amyte

 

In dyuers bokes examples we may fynde

Howe many Cytees hygh and excellent

Agaynst all lawe and reason were vnkynde

To suche as dyd theyr dignyte augment

O vnkynde rome thou was of this intent

Whiche hast Camyllus exyled in great payne

Thoughe he euer laboured thy honour to mentayne

 

O cruell Athenes by thy ingratytude

Hast thou nat banysshyd Solon also fro the

Though he enfourmyd hath thy maners rude

And gyuyn the lawes of right and equyte

For his great meryte, loue and benygnyte

Thou hast hym gyuen exyle and paynes harde

His labour was nat worthy that rewarde

 

Thou vnkynde Sparta: of thy audacyte

What shall I wryte or thy lewde vnkyndnes

Hast thou nat banysshed by thy cruelte

Thy kynge Lycurgus, bycause he dyd redres

Thy wanton errours by lawe and rightwysnes

And Scipio whiche his country dyd defende

Fonde it to hym, vnkynde at the last ende

 

A thousande mo whome I can nat expresse

To suche as haue for them abyde great payne

Haue done displeasour, and shewed vnkyndnes

And them disceyued by some cautele or trayne

Yet none of them great goodnes cowde obtayne

By theyr vnkyndnes for who that so doth cast

Vnkyndly shall be seruyd at the last.

 

THENUOY OF BARKLAY.

 

O fals vnkyndnes out on the I cry

From all goodnes dost thou nat man withdrawe

Byndynge his herte to gyle and vylany

Agaynst nature, agaynst both right and lawe

Thou makest man his maker nat to knawe

Therfore thou man expell out from thy mynde

This vyce, for we fynde in an olde sayde sawe

Wo is hym that to his maker is vnkynde.

 

Remember man the great preemynence

Gyuen unto the by good omnypotent

Bytwene the and Angels is lytell difference

And all thynge erthly to the obedyent

Fysshe byrde and beste vnder the fyrmament

Say what excuse mayst thou nowe lay or fynde

Syns thou art made by god so excellent

But that thou oughtest agayne to hym be kynde.

 

God hath the made vnto his owne lykenes

No erthly creature vnto the comparable

Thy iyen vpwarde to consyder his hyghnes

Where other creatures that ar vnresonable

Goeth on all foure and ar nat other able.

Theyr loke alway vnto the grounde inclynyd

Therfore thou ought in vertue to be stable

And to thy maker neuer to be vnkynde

 

Whan man offendyd by disobedyence

Subduynge hym self to labour care and payne

And lost the consort of goodes hye presence

Hath nat christ Jhesu redemyd hym agayne

Besyde all this thou hast no thynge certayne

In erth but by hym. wherfore I call the blynde

And of thy maners vncurtayse and vylayne

If to thy sauyour thou be nat true and kynde

 

Thoughe god hath made the (man) thus excellent

To lyue (if thou lyst) in ioy eternally

A lytell thynge shall hym agayne content

He nought requyreth but thy herte onely

And that thou defy thy gostly ennemy

And in goddes seruyce thy herte and body bynde.

Than shall he rewarde the in heuen right gloriously

So mayst thou be callyd vnto thy maker kynde

 

*

 

Of folys that stande so well in their owne

conceyt that they thinke none so wyse,

stronge, fayre, nor eloquent, as they

ar themself.

 

[Illustration: We haue ouercome the malyce and enuy

Of suche as agaynst our Nauy did conspyre

Wherfore I shall my folys call quyckly

That they my Shyp may aparayle and atyre

Drawe nere ye Folys whiche syttynge by the fyre

Loke ay in a glasse to se your countenaunce

And in your owne dedis haue all your hole pleasaunce]

 

Vnto my shyp I call hym to be Coke

The mete to dresse to other Folys echone

Whiche in his myrrour doth alway gase and loke

Whan he may get hym vnto a place alone

And though of colour and beaute he haue none

Yet thynketh he hym self fayre and right plesant

And wyse: thoughe that he be mad and ignorant

 

In his owne dedys is onely his delyte

In his owne conceyte thynkynge hymself right wyse

And fayre, thoughe he be yelowe as kyte

Is of hir fete: yet doth he styll deuyse

His vayne myrrour: that onely is his gyse

And thoughe he beholde hym self of lothly shape

He wyll it nat byleue, but in his glasse doth gape.

 

Though for his foly all men myght hym repreue

And that he se it before hym openly

Within his glasse: he wyll it nat byleue

But strongly it defende and eke deny

He seyth nat his erys longe and hye

Whiche stande vpon his folysshe hode behynde

His lewde conceyt thus makyth hym starke blynde

 

Whan people comon of men of hye prudence

Or of hye beauty, and strength if men doth tell

If one suche fole were there in the presence

He swere durst boldly and that on the gospell

That he onely all other dyd excell

And that to gyue councell good and profytable

Were none in the worldly vnto hym comparable

 

These folys bost them selfe of theyr wysdome

And thynke them selfe to haue preemynence

Aboue all other that ar in christendome.

In gyftis of grace as beautye and scyence

Of strength, gode maners, vertue, and eloquence

But thoughe they stande in theyr owne conceytis

Nought is saue foly within theyr folysshe patis

 

And thoughe theyr face and vysage stande awry

And all to reuylde, theyr mouth standynge asyde

Within theyr myrrour the same can they nat spye

But in theyr foly contynually abyde

And whether that they ar styll outher go or ryde

Labour or be ydyll, they gase styll in theyr glasse

Yet wyll they nat byleue to haue erys lyke an Asse.

 

Oft whan these folys lye in theyr bed vpright

With tawny loke or els theyr botyll nose

They haue theyr myrrour alway in theyr syght

The vayne glasse (of theyr beautye) to apose

And whan suche a fole into the kechyn gose

To stere the pot, there whether he syt or stande

The glasse alway is in the other hande

 

Whan he a whyle his glas hath loken than

If one examynyd hym of his beautye

He boldly durst swere both by god and man

That nought were in hym whiche myght repreuyd be

But all goodnes, fayre shape, and loke of grauyte

And that his gere gayly vpon his backe doth syt

He hardly is wyse: if he had any wyt.

 

I wryten fynde that great inconuenyence

As losse, contempt and occasyon of pryde

Hath fallyn vnto many by this lewde complacence

Whiche haue nat knowen the way themself to gyde

The emperour Otho had ay borne by his syde

In warre and peas (a glasse) for his pleasaunce

To se his colour therin; and countenaunce

 

And to the entent to make his colour gay

With Assys mylke he noyntyd oft his skyn

And shauyd his berde onys euery day

But for that he offendyd god herein

After was he sharply punysshyd for this syn

And put vnto extreme rebuke and shame

To gyue other example to auoyde the same

 

It is forsoth a maner femynyne

And nat for man to be so elegant

To suche toyes wanton wymen may inclyne

A yonge mayde may at her forhede haue pendant

The vayne myrrour to se hir shape pleasant

Man sholde nought set by to norysshe his beautye

But onely manhode strength and audacyte

 

The wanton mayde may for hir self ordayne

Hir call hir coyfe, and suche conceytis newe

As broches fyletes and oyntmentis souerayne

And clothynge of dyuers colour and of hewe

But nowe yonge men the same fourme do ensue

And to content theyr mad and folysshe mynde

To wymen they compare themselfe agaynst kynde

 

Disorder rayneth as I before haue sayde

The yonge men takyth womans countenaunce

And hir aparayll, and wymen ar arayde

As men: agaynst all lawe and ordynaunce

Thus man and woman ensue mysgouernaunce

In theyr behauour is small dyuersyte

Theyr owne conceyt causeth great enormyte

 

The poet Ouyde shewyth in a fable

Howe that one callyd Pygmalyon by name

A fygure made vnto hymselfe semblable

Whiche he in marbyll right craftely dyd frame

And in so moche he worshypped the same

Tyll at the last his mynde was past and gone

And he transformed so was in to that stone

 

And if the Poetis fables be all sure

As by theyr subtyle wordes oft we here

The childe Narcissus was chaungyd of fygure

Whyle he behelde into the water clere

For whyle his shadowe vnto hym dyd apere

Vpon the same so sore he set his mynde

That he transformyd was to another kynde.

 

But to retorne agayne to our purpose

And of this sort of Folys to conclude

If god sholde them to other shape transpose

That thynke them fayre though they be foule and rude

Into foule fassyon he many sholde include

For whyle Folys theyr owne beauty magnyfy

So growyth the nomber and so they multyply

 

THENUOY OF BARKLAY THE TRANSLATOUR.

 

Blynde man inclere thy wylfull ignoraunce

Stande nat so great in thy owne conceyte

Ne in thy lewde fassyon set nat thy pleasaunce

Whether thou be pore or man of great estate

Another man moche more shall in the wayte

Of gode and yll than thou thy self canst do

Therfore be nat cause to thy self of disceyte

If one the teche: aply thy mynde therto

 

*

 

Of lepynges and dauncis and Folys that pas

theyr tyme in suche vanyte.

 

[Illustration: That fole that settyth his felycyte

In wanton daunces and lepes immoderate

Hath in my Shyp a rowme for his degre

Bysyde the stere for troublynge of his pate

He god dyspleasyth, whiche doth suche foly hate

Suche lese theyr tyme in vayne and oft therin

Ar many hurtis: