HOwe so euermen commonly talke of me (as pardie I am not ignoraunt what lewde reportes go on FOLIE, yea euen amongꝭ those that are veriest foo­les of all) yet that I am she, I onely (I saie) who through myne influence do gladde both the Goddꝭ and men, by this it maie appeare sufficiently: that as soone as I came forth to saie my mynd afore this your so no­table assemblie, A fooles presence sterreth laughter. by and by all your lokes began to clere vp: vnbendyng the frounyng of your browes, & laugh­yng vpon me with so merie a countinaunce, as by my trouth me semeth euin, that all ye (whom I see here present) doe fare as if ye were well whitled, and tho­roughly moysted with the Nectar wine of the Homeri­call Goddꝭ, not without a porcion of the iuyce of that meruaillous herbe Nepenthes, whiche hath force to put sadnesse and melancholie from the herte: Where as before ye satte all heauie, and glommyng, as if ye had come lately from Trophonius caue, or sainct Patrikes purgatorie. But lyke as whan Phebus displaieth his golden bright raies vppon the earth, or whan after a sharpe stormie wynter, the new primetyde flourissheth with his caulme sweete Westerne wyndꝭ, than (loe) a new lykenesse, a newe hewe, and a newe youthe (as it were) retourneth vnto all thynges: Euen so, as soone [Page] as I appeared, ye all beganne to loke vp lustily. So, what thyng theis cunnyng Rhetoriciens for all theyr longe, and forepenned oracions can hardly bringe about (I meane to driue care, and pensiuenesse out of the hea­rers myndes) that haue I with my onely loke, and pre­sence accomplisshed. And now ye shall wite, to what eutent at this tyme, in this so straunge an apparell, I am come foorthe amongꝭ you: vpon condicion ye will not thinke muche to bestowe on me your eares a while. To trifuls better eare geuen, then to grauer matti [...]s. I meane not those eares that ye carie with you to ser­mons, but those ye geue to plaiers, to iesters, and to foo­les. Yea those (hardly) wherwith my friende Midas whilom herkened to the rurall god Pan, in preferryng his rusticall songe, before Apollos farre fyner Melo­die. For I purpose a season to become a Sophiste, mi­stake me not I praie you, as if I saied Sophistrer, su­che as now a daies driue into childers headꝭ, certaine tangled trifuls, with more than womens stubbournesse and skoldyng in their disputacions. But I meane the other, who to the ende they myght shonne that presum­ptuous name of Sophi or wysemen, did rather take v­pon them to be called Sophistes: Whose study and pro­fession it was, to aduaunce, and set foorth in theyr wri­tyngꝭ the praises bothe of the Goddꝭ, and of men also, suche as were famous and worthies here in earth. Ye shall heare therfore the praise set foorth, not of Hercu­les, nor yet of Solon, but rather of myne owne selfe, That is to saie of Folie. In whiche poinct, a strawe for all these cankerd philosophers, and sages, who saie it is a moste outragious folie and presumpcion, for one to praise hym selfe. For truly let them make it as foo­lisshe [Page] a parte as they lyste, so longe as they can not de­nie it to be congruent. And what (I praie you) maie be more apt or better sittyng, than dame Foly to praise hir selfe, and be hir owne trumpet? For who can liue­lier descriue me [...] then I my selfe? Unles perhaps some be better acquainted with me, then I my selfe am. Notwithstandynge, euen this myselfepraise (as me se­meth) I maie well take vpō me with a more shamefast grace, than to do as commenly theis great, and learned men vse, who suborne some glosyng oratour, Oratours and poetes or vayne spoken poete, hyred also for mede, to dilate and blaste foorth their praises, or (rightlier to saie) peincted lies. And yet shall one of those shamefast, maidenly men not sticke than to d [...]splaie his pecockes fethers, and rowse hym selfe, whyles suche shameles flaterers dooe goe a­bout to make him, being a man lesse worth thā naught, coequall yet vnto the Gods, in blasonnyng hym for a paragonne, and absolute example of all maner vertues, from which he knoweth hym selfe to be as farre wyde, as from hence to the man in the moone. Namely whi­les those glorious glosers woulde decke the crow with other burds fethers, or peyne theim to washe awaie a Morions blackenesse, or labour of a sely fly to make an Elephant. For shorte, I folowe in this poincte the common prouerbe, whiche saieth, that he maie rightly praise hym selfe, whom none other bodie will. All be it to saie the trueth, I can not but meruaile at mens ingratitude (shuld I call it) or negligence? that where with one assent they all so frankely dooe obserue me, and gladly peruse my commoditees, yet hath not one of theim, now so many reuolucions of yeres passed, vnder [Page] taken with some thankefull oracion to set foorthe the praises of me Folie, where as some of theym haue not wanted, who with solemne styles, and muche losse of slepe and candell, shewed at lest theyr folie, what e­uer theyr mattier was, in commendacion, some of this notable tyranne, some of that, some in praise of the fe­uer quartane, others in settyng foorth what commo­ditees be in a flie, in baldnesse, or suche lyke hatefull thyngꝭ. But at my hand, ye shall heare an vnaduised, and sodeine tale tolde, thoughe so muche perhaps the truer, Whiche I woulde not ye shoulde thynke were saied of me for a colour, to aduaunce therby the rype­nesse of my witte, as commonly these learned men do. Who puttyng foorthe (as ye knowe) some boke more than whole .xxx. wynters had in cullyng, The vaine glorie of l [...]arned mē. ye and that sometymes none of their owne doyng, will sweare yet, that they made it but for a recreacion of theyr grauer studies, or rather as fast as penne coulde renne. For truly it hath euer best lyked me to speake streight what so euer laie on my tongues ende. But this, to the ende ye loke not for it, I doe warne ye of afore hande, that I in no wyse will, accordyng to these common Sophi­sters and Rhetoriciens maner, go about to shew by dif­finicion what I am, and muche lesse vse any diuision: In as muche as I holde bothe the one, and the other for vnluckie tokens, either to comprehende hir vnder a certaine ende, or limite, whose influence stretcheth so vniuersally, orels to diuide hir, in whose obseruaunce all men dooe so wholy consent. And yet I can not tell to what purpose it shoulde serue, to represent a certaine shadow, or image of my selfe, where as presently ye [Page] maie discerne me with your eies. For I am here (as ye see) the distributrix and dealer of all felicitee, na­med [...] in Greeke, in Latine Stultitia, in Englishe Folie. But aye, what neded me to vtter thus muche? as if I bare not signes enough in my face, and coun­tinance, what maner person I am: Or as if some one contendyng that I were Minerua, or Sophia, myght not straight with my onely loke be confuted, though I helde my talke, whiche is no liyng myrrour of the min­des disposicion. For in me (ye must thynke) is no place for settyng of colours as I can not saie one thyng, and thynke an other: but on all sydes I dooe resemble my selfe. Folie dis­sembled. So that not so muche as they can dissemble me, who take vpon theim most semblant of wysedome, and walke lyke Asses in Lyons skynnes. That althoughe they counterfeite what they can, yet on some syde their longe eares pearyng foorth, dooe discouer them to come of Midas progenie. The vnkyndest kynde of men li­uyng, who beyng in deede the verie standerd bearers of my bande, woulde seeme yet afore folke to be so asha­med of my name, as not seldome they cast it in others teethe for a great reproche. Suche men therfore, that in deede are archdoltes, and woulde be taken yet for sa­ges and philosophers, maie I not aptelie calle theim foolelosophers? For as in this behalfe I haue thought good to borowe a littell of the Rethoriciens of these daies, Obscur [...] and affe [...] ­tacion of writers [...] who plainely thynke theim selfes demygodꝭ, if lyke horsleches thei can shew two tongues, I meane to mingle their writingꝭ with wordꝭ sought out of strange langages, as if it were alonely thyng for theim to pou­dre theyr bokes with ynkehorne termes, although per­chaunce [Page] as vnaptly applied, as a gold rynge in a sowes nose. That and if they want suche farre fetched voca­bles, than serche they out of some rotten Pamphlet foure or fyue disused woordꝭ of antiquitee, therewith to darken the sence vnto the reader, to the ende, that who so vnderstandeth theim, maie repute hym selfe for more cunnyng, and litterate: and who so dooeth not, shall s [...] muche the rather yet esteeme it to be some high mattier, because it passeth his learnyng. For this is truely not the least of my pleasant propretees, to make men euer sette moste store by straunge and outlandisshe thyngꝭ. So that some be of suche a vaingloriousnesse, as whan they can least skyll therof, yet will they flire, and nodde the head at it, and (as the Asse doeth) wagge theyr eares, to make others beleue that they are depely seen sherin. And this, is thus. But now I retourne to my mattier. Ye haue hearde my name than (O my friendꝭ) what addicion shall I geue you? What? but my most foolisshe friendꝭ. For by what more manerly surname maye the Goddesse Folie calle hir seruauntꝭ, and alies? But now seyng all folkꝭ know not of what lynage I am descended, so healpe me the Muses as I entende to declare the same vnto you. Folies fa­ther. My father ther­fore was neyther Chaos, nor Orcus, nor Saturnus, nor any other of that olde and rustie race of Gods, but Plutus the golden god of riches, and the onely syre of Gods and men, though Hesiodus, Homere, yea and Iupiter hym selfe stande neuer so stifly against me. At whose onely becke as aforetymes, so now also bothe holy, and vnholy thyngꝭ be tourned topset turuie. At whose ar­bitrement, warre, peace, kyngdomes, counsailes, iudge­mentꝭ, [Page] assemblees, mariages, couenauntꝭ, leagues, la­wes, sciences, games, earnest mattiers (my breath fai­leth me) to be short, The force of money. all publike, and priuate doyngꝭ of men are administred. Without whose ayde, the whole route of the poeticall Goddꝭ, yea I will saie further, those that be the chosen Goddꝭ should either not be at all, or liue els with a messe of sklendre chere: That whom so he is agreued with, Pallas is not able to pro­tecte hym. And who so hath hym on his syde, maie (if it lyke hym) [...]efie Iupiter, with all his thunder.

And suche a father (loe) dooe I glorie in. Who nei­ther begatte me of his braine, Folies mo­ther. as Iupiter did that vna­miable, skowlyng Goddesse Pallas, but of Youthe, a Nymph aboue all others most fayre, and goodly. Nei­ther was he (I warrant you) at the tyme of my beget­tyng clogged with the heauie yoke of wedlocke, wher­in Vulcane that lymphault smithe was borne, but ra­ther mixed in loue (as my Homere saieth) whiche I take to be a copulacion not a little more pleasant than the other is. Further, to the ende that ye mistake nothyng, I dooe ye to wite that Plutus begatte me not in his olde daies, whan he was blynde, and skarce able to goe for age, and goutinesse, as the poete Aristophanes descriueth hym: but in his prime yeres, whan as yet he was sounde, and full of hote bloudde, but muche fuller of Nectar drinke, whiche sittyng at bourde with the o­ther Goddꝭ, he had sipped than by chaunce somewhat more than enough. Nowe and if ye loke to be instru­cted also of my byrth place, in so muche as now a daies men thynke how the countrey where one is borne doeth not a little impo [...]te towardꝭ his nobilitee, ye shall vn­derstande [Page] that I was brought foorth neither in flotyng Delos, as Apollo, nor amongꝭ the wauing seas, where Venus toke hir beginnyng, nor yet in holow rockes vnder grounde, as was the great god Iupiter, but euen amiddꝭ the Ilandꝭ, Folies byrth place. whiche of their synguler fertilitee and fruitefulnesse, are called Fortunatae, where as all thyngꝭ grow vnsowed and vntilled. In whiche iles neither labour, nor age, nor any maner sickenesse rei­gneth, nor in the fieldꝭ there dooe either Nettles, Thi­stles, Mallowes, Brambles, Cockle, or suche lyke bag­age grow, Hereby is ment that those whi­che ar born to moste wealth proue ma­ny times most fooles but in steede therof Gylofloures, Roses, Li­lies, Basile, Uiolettꝭ, and suche swete smellyng herbes, as whilom grew in Adonis gardeins, dooe on all sides satisfie bothe the sente, and the sight. Thus borne in these delites, I beganne not my life with teares, but straightwaies smyled sweetely on my mother, an eui­dent argument and token of good lucke as these byrth­lotters saie. Further as concernyng my bringynge vp, I am not enuious that Iupiter the great god had a gote to his fostresse, Folies nourses. seyng two so pleasant Nymphes, as Dronkennes daughter vnto Bacchus, & Rudenes the daughter of Pan were my nourses. Whom ye maie se here also amongꝭ my other women and handmaides a­bout me. Folies hād maides. Whose names in case ye liste to know, I am verie well content to reherse theim vnto you. For this mayde truely, whom ye maie beholde with browes vp­cast, lokyng euer as if she wondred at somethyng, is called Selfloue. This next hir that fareth as if she fli­red vpon you, and clappeth hir handꝭ together, is Adu­lacion. This slouggerd, and drowsie head, is named Obliuion. This than that leaneth on hir elbowes, clas­pyng [Page] hir handꝭ togethers, is called Lythernes. This besydes hir with the Rose garlande on hir head, and all to perfumed with sweete sauours, is cleped voluptu­ousnes. This with the rollyng and vnstedfaste eies, is Madnes. This other with the slicke skinne, and fayre fedde bodie, is called Delicacie. As for these two Goddꝭ, whiche ye maie see also in the felowship of my other traine, the one is named Belichere, the o­ther Soundslepe. Now if ye aske me, what stede these stande me to? I aunsweare, that throughe the trustie ayde of such a bande as this is, I subdue all the world vnder my dominion, bearyng empire ouer emperours theim selues. Ye haue heard me thus declare vnto you my lynage, Folies di­uine ope­racion. my educacion, and my familie. but least now I myght causelesse seme to challenge the name of a Goddesse, herken ye therfore attentiuely, with how great commoditees I endue bothe goddꝭ and men, and how largely my power stretcheth. For and if a certaine autour wrote not muche amisse, how this was proprely the office of a God, to do benefite to mortall men: further, if suche haue woorthily ben ascribed to the senate of the gods, as were fyrst inuentours of wyne, of corne, and suche ly [...]e commoditees for your liuyng: why shoulde not I than rightfully be taken, and set tofore theim all, who onely am the geuer of all thyngꝭ, to all men? For fyrst (I axe) what maie be sweter or more dearer vnto you, than is your life? but the originall springe, and planta­cion of the same, whom shoulde ye thanke for, but me onely? In as muche as neither the speare of Pallas, ne yet the shielde of Iupiter called Aegis, is it, that en­gendreth mankynde: but the selfe Iupiter, father of the [Page] Goddꝭ: and kynge of kyngꝭ, who with his onely becke, can shake all heauen, must laie downe his threforked thunder, and also his grimme countinaunce, wherwith whan hym listeth he can make all the Goddꝭ to tremble, yea and lyke a plaier must disguise hym selfe into an other per­sonage, in case he woulde dooe the thyng, that almost he alwaies practiseth (whiche is) to gette children. A­gaine, amongꝭ mortall men, the Stoikes, counte theim selues to be next the Goddꝭ in perfection. Wysdome and graui­tee in chil­dren get­tyng serue not to pur­pose. But bringe me one, admitte he be foure, or fiue, or (if you list) six hundred tymes a Stoike, and yet must he laie downe, if not his longe berde, betokenyng wisedome, whiche natheles gotes haue also, at least (I saie) laie asyde his graue, and frounyng loke, he must caulme, and ex­plane his forehead, he must caste awaie those his yron­like lessons, and preceptꝭ of doctrine, it is I, it is I (be­leue me) whom that wise and sage Stoike muste haue recourse vnto, in case he wolde be a father. And why shoulde I not commen more familiarly with you, ac­cordyng to my custome? I praie you, is it the head? the face? the breast? the handes? or the eares? which partꝭ of the body are named honest, that engendre gods, and men? I trow no. Naie, it is euin that selie mem­bre, so fonde, and foolisshe, as maie not without laugh­ter be spoken of, whiche is the onely planter of man­kynde. That, is the onely fountaine, whens all thyn­ges receiue life, a great deale sooner than from Pytha­goras quaternion. As concernyng the vse wherof, who is he (suppose ye) woulde take in his mouthe the snaf­fle of wedlocke, Mariage, to procede of Folie. if (accordyng as these wisemen are wonte to dooe) he shoulde fyrste caste and recken with [Page] hym selfe [...]he discommoditees of that trade of life? Or what woman wolde yelde vnto a man, if she either knew, or thought vpon the perillous throwes of child­bearyng, or trauaile of their bringyng vp? That and if ye owe your liues to wedlocke, and wedlocke ye owe to my damoisell Madnes, now ye maie soone gesse, what ye owe, and shoulde referre to me. Than, who is she, that after one assaie, woulde eftesoones venter childebearyng, [...]e were it not throughe the encourage­ment of Obliuion. No not Venus hir selfe (what euer Lucretius writeth) will denie, but that hir might in en­gendrure remaigueth voyde, and of small effect, with­out thaccesse of mine ayde. So that to conclude, I saie how of this my dronken and ridiculous game, are pro­create (omittyng vulgare folke) bothe graue philoso­phers, whom suche succede now, as ye call monkꝭ, and purpre princis, and holy priestꝭ, and thrise holy bishop­pes, at ones, all the whole route of the Poeticall Gods, so swarmyng, as skarce all heauen is able to conteine thē, be it neuer so large of roume. Folie grounde of the cōmo­ditees of mans life. But take it hardly for nothyng that ye owe thus vnto me the verie fountaine, and springe of your lyfe, in case what euer other com­moditees ye haue therin, I dooe not proue theim also to procede of my goodnesse. For as touchyng this life here, maie it woorthily be called a life (I praie you) if ye take pleasure and delight awaie? dooe you nodde vpon me? well saied: I wyst there was none of you all so wyse, or rather so foolysshe, naie wyse sooner, as wolde be of any other opinion. How be it, euen these sage Stoikes dooe not in deede, so greatly despise plea­sure, as outwardly thei dissemble, and afore folkꝭ doe [Page] baite hir with a thousande repreues, to none other en­tent (I warrante you) saue that whan others are ra­ted therfro, thei than maie more at libertee enioie hir, But I wolde thei shulde tell me, what any part of this life there is, not heauie, not vnpleasant, not vrkesome, not vnsauourie, vnles ye put Pleasure, that is to saie, the Saulce of Folie vnto it? for proufe wherof as I could alleage the sufficient auctoritee of Sophocles, whose noble sentence in my fauour, is neuer enough praised, where he saieth, that In knowyng least, the blisfulst lyfe is ledde. So I am content yet for your better instruction, to disclose euery thyng more particularly vnto you.

And fyrst, Infancie, foolisshe. who is he but will confesse Childhode, the fyrst age of man, to be most gracious and acceptable vn­to all folkꝭ? for els, what is it in younge babes that we dooe kysse so, we doe colle so, we dooe cherisshe so, that a verie enemie is moued to spare and succour this age, vnles it be the allurement of Folie? whiche, na­tures circumspection, euin purposedly, hath adioigned to children, to the ende that with some reputacion of pleasure, thei might supple the trauaile of theyr brin­gers vp, and prouoke the beneuolence of suche as tende vnto theim. The next age than that succedeth hereto, I meane Youthe, Youthe. how acceptable (I praie you) is it to all folkꝭ? how is eche enelined to it? how willyng­ly dooeth euery wight set it forwarde? how diligently dooe all men put to theyr healpyng handꝭ: And wher­of (trow ye) procedeth this grace of Youthe, but of me onely? through whose benefite, a younge man know­eth least, and therfore taketh least thought. Take me for a lier, vnles as soone as be waxeth elder, beginnyng [Page] throughe experience and disciplines to sauour of Man­hode, than in continent the floure of his beautie decai­eth, his myrth fadethe, his grace waxeth colde, his strength diminissheth, so that the farther, and farther he is retired from me, the lesse, and lesse he liueth, vntill at last, tedious olde age dooe crepe vpon hym, not onely vrkesome to others, but hatefull also to him selfe: whi­che Olde age (on my conscience) no mortall man wold endure to byde out, if I againe takyng compassion at theyr so great labours and encombrances, did not som­what releue the same. That like as these goodꝭ of the poetes, are wont with some transformacion or likenesse tournyng, to succour men readie to perisshe, so I also (that in me lyeth) dooe reuoke suche aged men as are at deathes dore, and next the pitte, backe againe vnto childhode? Wherupon, not causeles, folkꝭ call theim twyse children. Returne of olde age to Childhode. Now and if some woulde aske me how I dooe transforme theim so, I will not hyde so muche as that from you. For I bringe them to the fountaine of my mayden Obliuion, called Lethes, whiche sprin­geth in the Isles fortunate (for as for the other that ren­neth through the fieldes Elisiꝭ, is but a small branche of this former) to the ende that as soone as they there haue dronken longe forgetfulnesse of thingꝭ passed, thei maie, by little and little, wasshyng awaie all the trou­bles and carefulnesses of the mynde, become chilhisshe agayne. But some perhaps will obiecte to me, and saie, that suche olde men dooe dote now, and are paste theyr wittꝭ. Yea, be as be maie, yet this is euin the plaine recourse vnto childbode. For is the same ought els (suppose you) than dotage, or ignorance? is it ought [Page] els in children that deliteth you, than their indiscreci­on? For who is he that wolde not eschew, and abhorre, no lesse then a monster, a child being endued with man­lyke reason and capacitee? Wherunto accordeth this common prouerbe, I hate the childe, whose witte ripeneth before the tyme. Or who wold gladly susteine to haunt, or kepe company with that olde man, who vnto his so longe practise, and experience in thyngꝭ, had added al­so lyke quicknesse of the mynde, and lyke sharpnesse of discourse? Conclude therfore, that old age doteth tho­rough my benefite, and yet ye see howe these my good dotardꝭ, shall in the meane whyle rest vacant and dis­charged of all suche cares and anxieties, wherwith wisemen of fressher sprites are wrongen continually, & in the meane whyle become cherisshers eche of other, Dotage in elde men. by neyghbourly gossippyng togethers, and table plaie, felyng no maner tediousnesse of this life, whiche skarce a liuelier age suffreth, yea and sometyme learne againe to spell a, m, o, as the olde man of Plautus dooeth, most wretched, in case one yntch of sound witte remai­ned in theim, and yet through my procurement, moste happy, beyng also deare, and welcome to theyr friendꝭ, amongꝭ other respectꝭ, for this, that commonly they are verie pleasant in company, and merily bespoken. For in Homer ye maie reade, howe out of Nestors mouthe there flowed woordes sweeter than honie, wheras Achilles langage byted bitter. In Homer also, olde men leaning ouer Troie walles put foorthe a swetedelyuerid voyce. As to whiche regarde, theirs maie be preferred before the verie grace of infancie, whiche sure is muche gracious, but yet partly disgraced, when it lacketh speache, and [Page] chattyng, that are euin the chiefest recreacions of mans life. Adde hereto, that olde age ioyeth muche in chil­dren, and children lykewyse will euer bee about olde­folkꝭ. Suche is nature, in couplyng lyke, and lyke together, for what other thing is there vnlike betwix them? saue that Elde, is fuller of wrincles, and noumbreth more yeeres? Els, Olde men like childrē. their white heares, their totheles iawes, lesse proporcion of theyr bodies, mylklongyng, fum­blyng in the mouthe, chattyng, fondnesse, forgetful­nesse, rechelousnesse, for briefe, all other condicions be of one degree, so that the nearer men aproche to olde age, the nearer retourne thei to the forme of childhode, till at laste, euin lyke children, no tediousnesse of life, nor sence of death felt, they depart out of this worlde. Can any of you compare now the other goddꝭ transfor­macions, with this of myne? who what thei dooe i [...] waie of displeasure, me listeth not to reherse: But whom they moste fauour, and are pleased with, them (trow I) thei are wont to chaunge into trees, into fou­les, into grashoppers, ye or sometyme into serpentꝭ, as if it were not a certaine kynde of perisshyng to be alte­red so into a new lykenesse: wheras I reduce the selfe same man, to the best, and most pleasaunt parte of all his lyfe. That and if men had the grace to forbeare quite from medlyng with wisedome, leadyng foorth all theyr lyfe in my seruice, now (I wene) there shoulde be no olde age at all, but rather they shoulde enioie a moste happie, and continuall youthe. Study and businesse hast for­warde age. For see you not (I praie you) how these wysemen, who are geuen to philosophie, or some suche ernest and graue studie, dooe for the most parte waxe hore, before they be fully yonge [Page] men? whiche vndoubtedly cometh of cares, and inces­sant sharpe trauailyng of the braine, by little and little sokyng vp the liuely iuyce of the sprites: wheras my fooles on the other side, be slicke, and smothe skinned, yea and well trussed together, lyke hoglyngꝭ of Acarna­nia: suche as neuer shoulde fele (I warrant you) any discommoditee of age, ne were it not that sometyme by chaunce, thei [...]e infected with the contagious company of wysemen. Suche is the lotte of mans life, suffryng nothyng on all partꝭ to be blisfull. And here I maie bringe in the approued auctoritee of the prouerbe, whi­che affirmeth Folie to be the onely lynke, that staieth fletyng youthe, and kepeth of combrous age. Lyke as not causeles men saie by the Brabanters, that wheras yeres make other people the wyser, they, the lenger thei lyue, are rooted the deper in folie. Yet for all that, where fynde you any nacion more iocunde, or meter for the cōmen trade of liuing, or that lesse feleth ages weight, than this dooeth? To whom as in countrey, so also in maners are my Hollanders next neighbours. For why shoulde I sticke to call them myne? Seeyng thei take my parte so ernestly, as therby thei haue gotten theim my name for an addicion, so little wherof thei ar asha­med, as they passe not to boste theim selues in it. Let theim that will now goe, Folie the pror [...]ger and delaie of age. and seke out, Medea, Cir­ces, Venus, Aurora, or I wote neuer what maner fountaine, to haue theyr youthe restored, wheras I one­ly am she that maie, and vse to dooe it. It is I that haue that meruailous iuyce, wherewith Memnous daughter proroged the youthe of hir graundsire Titho­nus. I am that Venus, through whose fauour Phaon [Page] waxed yonge againe, whom therfore Sappho so much loued. Mine be those herbes, if any suche be, and mine be those charmes, and myne is that fountaine, that not onely calle youthe backe againe, ones beyng vanisshed, but also (whiche is more desyrable) dooeth conserue it euerlastyng. That and if ye all dooe subscribe to this opinion, how nothyng is more pleasaunt than youthe, and nothing more cumbresome than age, now (I trow) ye perceiue how muche ye are beholdyng to me, seeyng I vpholde to you so great a weale, so great an euill ex­cluded. But what speake I yet of mortall men? ser­che ye (hardly) all heauen, and who that list than scorne be my name, in case he finde any of the goddꝭ not crab­bed, and dispisable, vnles my influence dooe commend hym. For why is my cosyn Bacchus euer lyke a strip­lyng, and fayre busshed? Folie com­maundeth the Gods also. Forsouth because like a wit­les and dronken compaignion, passyng his time in ban­kettꝭ, daunces, and places, he hath neuer thus muche to doe with Pallas goddesse of wysedome. Finally, so little sette [...]o he to be holden wyse, as the obseruaunce that he requireth at mens handꝭ is naught but mayga­mes, shrouyngꝭ, and suche lyke fantsies. Neither is he offended with the prouerbe, callyng hym a foole, as, Foolissher than Morychus. For thei call hym Morychus because vplandisshe hobbes in sport are wont at bring­yng home of haruest, to besmere his image sette before temple dores, with muste, & grene fygges. And (lord) with what iestes the writers of the olde Comedies doe taunt hym? O fonde God (saie thei) and woorthy who shoulde issue out of the grine of Iupiter: Yet who woulde not rather chose, if choise were offred, to bee suche a [Page] foole, and popie as he is, beyng euer merie conceited, euer younglyke, euer prouokyng men to laughter with his sporte and pleasantnesse, than Iupiter hym selfe, withall his depe dissembled chere, lokyng so sternly, as ge­ueth terrour to the goddꝭ also? Or Pan, who with his sodaine fraimentꝭ and tumultꝭ, bringeth age ouer all thyngꝭ? Or Vulcanus the lymphault smithe, full of smoke and embres, euer filthie with the toyle that he endureth in his forge? Orels Pallas my great aduer­sarie, beyng so muche redoubted because she beareth speare, and shielde: who euer sheweth a payre of skou­lyng eies? But why (I praie you) is Cupide alwaies lyke a yonge boie? why? but that he is a trifler, nei­ther doyng, nor thynkyng any wyse acte, I warrant you. Why hath Venus also hir beautie euer alyke flou­risshyng? why? but that she is sybbe vnto me? euin as hir visage resembleth my fathers colour, for Homer nameth hir golden Aphroditis. So, she is euer smilyng, if we credite the poetꝭ, or theyr coūterfaitours the pein­ters. Moreouer, what god head didde the Romaines woorship euer more religiously, than that of Flora the mother of all pleasures and solasses? How be it on the othersyde, who so woulde narowlier serche, and consi­der the maner of liuyng, euin of those sowre and glom­myng gods, either out of Homer, or other poetꝭ, he shuld finde them (no faile) as foolishe, and dissolute, as these. For what nedeth me to allege meaner Goddꝭ Folies? whan all ye haue at your fingers endꝭ, howe great a louer thundring Iupiter is? Also how graue Dame Di­ane forgettyng womanhode, dooeth naught but hounte all daie longe, visityng by startꝭ yet hir sweete herte [Page] Endymion? But as for me, I had leuer thei shoulde heare theyr faultꝭ tolde theim of Momus the god of Rephrehension, at whose handꝭ so many tymes thei haue ben taunted. Sauyng, that not longe agone thei threw downe him and Atis, headlong togethers to the earth, because that euer with his wyse sawes and ad­monicions he semed out of season to farre against their felicitee. Poore Momus therefore wandreth aboute lyke a vacabound, in as muche as no mortall man will gladly vouchesaue hym herbourough, for feare of Iupi­ters displeasure, muche lesse that he can be receiued into princꝭ courtes, Flatery fa­milier in princis courtes. for there my Adulacion beareth the swinge, who agreeth no more with Momus, than lam­bes dooe with the woulfe. So that synce he is ones remo­ued, the goddꝭ aboue maie now muche franklier, and at more libertee plaie theyr pageauntꝭ, leadyng foorth an ea­sie lyfe (as Homer saieth) wheras no countroller dare call theim to accoumpte. For (Lorde) the sporte that Priapus the great tooled god maketh them? what pa­styme haue thei at Mercurius, with his theft, and iug­gling. Not so muche as Vulcane, but whan the gods are sette at bankette, he plaieth the iester, now with his lymphaultyng, nowe with his skoffyng, and nowe with his ouerthwarte woordꝭ, to prouoke theim all to laughter. Than cometh Silenus that horeheadded lo­uer, treadyng the hornepipe, with Poliphemus boi­steously stampyng, and the Nymphes trippyng bare­footed, The Satyres halfe gotes dauncyng the Antikes, And Pan with his oten flute singyng some rurall songe, doeth wonderously delite them, as whom, at that time, they had rather heare, than the Muses theim selues: [Page] chiefely, whan thei beginne to be throughly chafed with theyr Nectar drinke but what shuld I tell you of that the goddꝭ doe after suche compotacions? thyngꝭ so foo­lisshe, as I my selfe can scant refreine from laughter. It is best therfore that herein I remembre Harpocra­res for his silence, lest some euisdropper god, doe her­ken me blabbyng foorth suche thyngꝭ of theim, as not Momus hym selfe spake euer vnpunisshed. So now it is tyme, that (folowyng Homers example) I leaue the goddꝭ aboue, and make returne to the earth, to dis­cusse, how nothyng here is either gladsome, or desira­ble, Foly natu­rall to man kynde. vnlesse the same begin at me. For fyrst, ye se with how great prouidence, Nature the foundresse of man­kynde hath forcast, that no where, in any part of mans lyfe the saulce of Folie shulde be wanted. For if wise­dome, accordyng to the Stoikes diffinicion, is naught els, than to be ruled by reason: and folie, to be ledde as affection will. Consider now (I praie you) how muche more Affecti­on, than Reason, Iupiter hath put in men, to the ende theyr lyfe shulde not altogethers be heauy, and vnplea­sant. As if ye shoulde compare an ounce to a pounde. Furthermore, he shutte vp Reason within the narowe compasse of mans head, leauyng all the rest of the bo­die to affections: settyng also, two most violent tyran­nes against hir, that is to saie, Anger, raignyng in the fortresse of the hert: and concupiscence, whiche euin to the lowest part of the bealy, dooeth occupie a large possession. Against these two so stronge champions, how muche Reason maie resiste, the commen trade of mens lyues declareth sufficiently. That wheras Rea­son, as muche as lieth in hir, dooeth crie against them, [Page] [...]uin till she be hoarse, alleageyng what honestie will, & requireth, yet daigne not thei to obey, but muche more furiously done repyne at hir, till at last she also, beyng weried, is faine to yelde for vanquisshed. But in so muche as to man, borne to gouerne, and rule, Iupiter thought it meate to distribute Reason somewhat in a larger assise, to the ende yet he myght partly alaie the excesse, he called me (as he is wont) amongꝭ the other goddꝭ to counsaile: Iupiter called Folie to coūsail. and by and by I gaue hym aduise lyke my selfe, that a woman shoulde be associate vnto hym. Folie of women. A creature (god knoweth) bothe foolisshe, and vnwittie, but natheles pleasaunt, and gracious. To the ende that throughe daiely company, and dwellyng together, she with hir Folie myght relesse, and make doulcet the sadnesse of mans courage. For where Pla­to semeth to doubte, whether he shoulde putte a woman a­mongꝭ reasonable, or vnreasonable creatures, it was no more, but to shew and expresse the notable Folie of that sexe: So that if any woman studieth to be counted wyse, she dooeth naught els but labour to be twyse foolishe, as if ye wold force a cowe against hir nature to scape through a hoope. For the fault is doubled, whan so euer one against kind, woulde counterfaite a glosse of vertue, to writhe the mynde otherwyse than of nature it plieth. Accordyng as the greke prouerbe saieth, An ape, is an ape, be she clo­thed in purpre, so a woman is a woman (that is to saie) a foole, what so euer parte she plaie. Yet I thinke not that women are so verie fooles, to be angrie with me herefore, What cō ­moditees women haue by Folie, that I beyng Folie hir selfe, and a woman al­so, doe arrect Folie vnto theim. For and if they waie all thyngꝭ indifferently, they shall soone perceiue, how [Page] muche I am to be thanked, that for many respectꝭ thei are farre happier, than men be. Fyrst, for theyr beau­ties sake, beautie (I saie) whiche not without good cause is had in so great price by theim, as vnder whose shielde and protection, they doe exercise tyrannie, yea ouer tyrannes theim selfꝭ. For els, whence cometh to men that sternes of their visages, roughnesse of skinne, and thickenesse of theyr beardes, beyng a verie repre­sentacion of oldnesse, sauyng of the excesse, or rather disease of wisedome? wheras women with their smoth chekes, small voices, and fiue skinnes, dooe euer shew a certaine youthlikenesse. Againe, what is it in this life that women sooner coueite, than to be belyked of men? Tende not (trow ye) to this effect, so many their attyres? so many peinctyngꝭ, so many bathyngꝭ? so many heare curlyngꝭ, so many glisshes? so many per­fumes? so many waies of nyce simpring, nycer smi­lyng, nycest goyng, be it but on an yntch of lether, and all to sette theim selfes foorth to the shewe? Further, what greatter priuilege haue women ouer men, than their foolisshenesse? For what is it, that men permitte not as leafull, or at least to be borne with, in women? but vnder what other title, than of delectacion? But how dooe they delite men, sauyng with their Folie? This to be true, can not be denied, who so will consi­der with hym selfe, what fonde talke and deuises, a man is faine to fynde out, as often as he entendeth to take fruicion and pleasure of a woman. And thus I haue declared you from what springe the first and chie­fest recreacion of this your life is deriued. Foly of fea [...]les and bankettes. But yet some persons there be, namely olde men, rather good [Page] maltwormes, than women haunters, who contrarie to my supposicion will putte theyr greatest felicitee in ti­pling, and good fate. As touchyng whiche poincte, I referre it to others iudgement if any feast or banket be made in the right kynde, vnles women are at the same. But of this I am sure, how without the sauice of Fo­lie, no banket can be to the somme. In sort that there want one, who with his owne, or counterfaite Folie, maie sturre the gestꝭ to laughter, than straight is some iester, or other madde knaue sent for, with his bald and foolisshe skoffes, to put awaie the sadde stylnesse of the feast. For els, what booted so many ionkettꝭ, sweete meates, and daintries to balace the belie withal, vnles the eies, the eares, and the whole mind, were also fedde with laughter, sporte, and merie conceites? But of all suche knackes I am the onely deuisour, like as this, that now is solemnely taken vp at bankettes, to chose a kynge by lottes, to plaie at tables, to bringe good lucke, to quasse about the bourde, to synge carosses; with suche like obseruan­ces, was neuer ordeigned by the seuin sages of Grece, but throughe myne inuencion, for the conseruacion, and a­uaile of mankynde. Yet marke you the nature of all suche deuises, and ye shall see, that the more folie they smell of, the more they dooe profite the life of mortall men. Whiche life, in case it be ouerwaied with sad­nesse, than sure it scantly deserueth the name of lyfe. And sadde must it nedes be, vules with some kynde of pastyme ye wype awaie tediousnesse, nexte cosyn to the other. Folie an­ [...]our of friendship; Now some perchaunce there are, who little will esteeme this kynde of pleasure also, but rather rest wholy on the league and acquaiutance of one frend [Page] with an other. Affirmyng friendship to be the onely thyng, whiche shoulde be sought and embraced before all the other commodities of your lyfe, beyng (saie they) so necessarie, and behouablr, as neither ayre, not fyre, nor water maie be more requisite vnto men [...] and therto so appropriately annexed, as the sonnes heate maie as soone as friendship be spared amongꝭ you: and besydes this so honest a thynge (if honestie as you thinke make ought to purpose) as not the philosophers theim selues dooe sticke to put friendship euin amongꝭ the chiefest weales of this lyfe. But what will ye saie now, if I can proue my selfe to be bothe croppe, & roote, of this so great a benefite? Proue it to you (I saie) neither with Barbara, nor Celerent, nor any su­che Dialectical quaynt subtiltes, but euiu of the plai­nest and bluntest facion, poyncte you to it, as it were with my finger? Fyrst therfore whan you see a man flatter, dissemble, or wynke at his friendꝭ faultꝭ, yea, and sometyme owe fauour, or rather wonder at some great vices of his, takyng theim for vertues: doe you not count hym (I praie you) next sybbe to a foole?

What if an other take some deformitee that his sēman hath, for a great grace, or a father, whose childe is squynt eied, cal­leth hym natheles his pretie pinkeied boie, is not this (trow ye) plaine folie? Folie the glew of friendship. Let sages crie againe and againe, that it is folie, yet this same folie is the glew that soul­dreth, and interteigneth friendꝭ together. I speake of mortall men, of whom none lyueth without some faultꝭ. So that, he maie well be holden for the best, that is combred with the smallest. Wheras amongꝭ these Goddꝭ of wysedome, either no friendship can fa­sten [Page] at all, or if it doe, yet is it but a frounyng, and an vnpleasaunt friendship, and suche, as taketh place a­mongꝭ verie few of theim. for it were to sore to saie a­mongꝭ none, seyng the most part of men doe ouershote theim selues: yea, if I saied all, I might abyde by it, so many sundrie waies is euery wight subiect vnto Fo­lie. And friendship is neuer properly knitte, but be­tweene men of egall estate and condicion. That ad­mitte sometyme a maner amitie is so kyndled betweene these wysemen: god knoweth yet how short a life, and continuance it shall be of, namely amongꝭ so wayward Waiwardnesse in friendship. faultfinders, as commenly suche sages are, beyng euer readie to fynde an hole, and castyng as sharpe an eie v­pon theyr friendes faultes, as an Egle doeth vpon hir praie. But (Lorde) for all that how poreblinde are they in theyr owne? not ones loking backe at the sachell hang­yng behynde theim. In as muche than as the na­ture of men is suche, that no witte maie be founde, not lymed with some great vices, in case ye adde therto the diuersnesse bothe of mens inclinacions, and ages, toge­ther with so many ouersightes, so many errours, and chaungyng chaunces, as this mortall lyfe is disposed to, now I see not how the fruite of friendships plea­sauntnesse shulde one halfe howre be conferued betwene so narow discussers of thyngꝭ, vnles the remedie of for­bearyng Forbea­ryng. one an other, whiche also in Greeke, is as muche to saie, as Folie were added for a staie and maintenance of the same. But what saie ye? Cupide hym selfe the god of all loue and friendship, The god of loue blind. is he not blynde? to whom as oftentimes not fayre thyngꝭ seeme fayre, so lykewyse amongꝭ you he bringeth to passe, that eche [Page] dooeth thynke his owne burde fayrest, and lyke will e­uer eleue to lyke. Now though we see, howe com­menly these thingꝭ are doen, and commenly laughed to shorne, yet such fondnesse is it that souldreth, & holdeth a pleasaunt felowship of life atwixe you. Further, what I haue saied by friendship, muche more maie I saie by mariage. Whiche is to saie, an inseparable coniun­ction of man and woman. But (Lorde) what diuorsemen­tes, or inconueniencꝭ worse than diuorsementꝭ woulde not commenly happen, in case their daiely societee, and dwellyng togethers, were not now with flaterie, now with daliance, now with sport, with forbearyng, with errour, with dissemblyng (all of my garde I warrant you) boeth propped vp, and nourisshed? Good lorde, how few spowsailes shoulde goe thorough, in case the wower wisely afore hand did boult out, what wanton partꝭ the tender, and to his semyng, shamefast mayden hath plaied longe afore he knew hit? Further, how few mariages ones solemnised, shuld continue in force: vnles the most part of the wiues pageantꝭ were cloked, either through hir husbandes negligence, or doltisshe­nesse? All this, and woorthily, is arrected to Folie. Yet dooeth this folie make the wyfe to be cherisshed of hir husbande, the husband lykewise of his wife, their hous to be quiete, and thaffinitee betwene theyr friendꝭ to remaine. The cokeholde witolde, or what other name ye list to geue hym, is laught to scorne, whan with his lippes he sucketh in the teares of his scant honest wife. Yea good enough. How muche better shall he finde it to be deceiued so, than thoroughe ielousie to frette hym selfe, and set all thyngꝭ on a rore. For short conclu­sion [Page] (I saie) so muche lacketh that any maner friend­ship, societie of life, No socie­tee of life without Folie. or companiyng together, maie with out myne accesse be pleasant, or longe lifed, as not the people woulde longe beare theyr ruler, nor a seruaunt his maister, a mayde hir mastres, a scholer his teacher, a friende his friende, the husbande his wyfe, a lender the hirer, a chamberfelow his chāberfelow, nor a bourd­mate, his bourdmate, vnles by turnes atwixe them sel­ues thei shuld sometime erre, sometime flatter, someti­mes wincke for the nones, & now & than coumfort theyr bittred tast with some hony of foolisshenesse. These thyngꝭ (I wote well) seme right meruailous vnto you, but geue me leaue a little, and ye shall heare further.

I praie you, can he loue any bodie, None acceptable to hym selfe without Folie. that loueth not hym selfe? can he agree with any body, that discordeth with hym selfe? Maie he please others, that is displeasant, and tedious to hym selfe? But settyng me asyde, so muche lacketh, that any man can abide or beare what o­thers dooe, as ye shall see hym fallout with hym selfe, mislyke what so euer he dooeth, and be his owne ha­ter. For nature not in few poinctꝭ rather a stepdame than a mother, hath graffed this euill propretie in mens headꝭ, namely theirs that are skilfuller, that euer they despise what qualitee is theyr owne, and sette more by that they see in others. Wherby it commes to passe, that all the giftes, and graces, of this lyfe, are quite lorne and defaced. For what auaileth beautee? beau­tie (I saie) the verie chiefest gifte that the immortall Goddꝭ dooe geue here, if he that hath it, reketh not of it? Or what auaileth youthe? If it be drowned with the leuaine of hore sadnesse. Finally in any maner [Page] trade of life, what can a man goe about to dooe seme­ly, and with a good grace, either by hym selfe or afore others (as in derde, to expresse and set a thyng foorth liuely, is not onely the chiefest poincte of cunnyng, but also the verie head of any thyng put in vre) if this my damoisell Selfloue Selfloue. be not his aduauncer, whom woor­thily I holde therfore in steede of my syster: so busely she trauaileth to my behalfe in euery place. And what can be more foly, than one to lyke hym selfe, & stand in his owne conceite? but than againe, what thyng can be propre, or becommyng, or well dooen, in case the doer of the same mislyketh him selfe in it? So that take a­waie this saulce of Selflikyng, which is euin the verie relesse of mans life and doynges, and by and by ye shal see the Oratour cold in his mattier, the Musici [...]n mis­lyked withall his discant, the Plaier hissed out of the place, the Poete and his muses laught to skorne, the Peincter and his art naught set by, the Phisicien for all his medicines walke an hungred, briefely, this set a syde, he that semed beautifull Nireus, shall appeare to be more vglie and misfauoured than Thersites, in stede of fayre Phaon, as hore aud wrincled as Nestor was, for Minerua, a sowe (as the prouerbe saieth) for an eloquent speaker, the fowlest stammerer in a countrey, and for a courtlyke felow, the rudest hobbe that maie be piked from the plough. So behouable is it (loe) that euery man dooe clappe hym selfe on the backe, and with some flattrie be commendable to hym selfe, ere he can be commended of others. Finally wheras it is the greattest parte of felicitee, for a man to desyre to bee, as he is in deede, that dooeth Selfloue procure you by a [Page] redier waie. For no man, how euer vile he be, will so dispayre in hym selfe, Eacheman through Folie stan­deth in self­conceite. as vtterly to mislyke either his witte, his kynred, dwellyng place, occupacion, or coun­trey. As an Irissheman woulde not chaunge his naci­on with an Italian, nor a Turke with an Athenyen, nor yet a Tartar with the verie Iles of Fortune: whi­che so beyng, how singuler than is natures prouidence (trow ye) in so great varieree of thyngꝭ, to make them all yet of a lyke proporcion? as to whom she hath been somewhat skarce in other giftes, there she putteth a lit­tle more selflikyng, but this I spake not verie circum­spectly, seeyng the same selflikyng, maie woorthily be esteemed for the greattest gifte of all. Foly auto [...] of all noble actes and artes [...] Here nowe I recke not much, to passe ouer vntouched, how no ma­ner acte, or noble deede was euer attempted, nor any arte or science inuented, other, than of whiche I might fully be holden first author. Warre. For as touching warre, the verie head and springe of all great enterprises, whi­che so commenly ar praised, and enrolled by historiens, is it not (trow ye) a foolisshe practise, to beginne suche variaunce, as euer bothe parties receiue more domage then profite by? (for of those that leaue theyr carkasses in the fielde, as did the Megarensiens, neuer counte is made) But yet, whan armies ioigne together, and trū ­pettꝭ blow vp blouddy notes, to what stede I praie you can these good father Sages serue? who soked vp with longe studie, leane, and colde of bloudde, maie scantly draw theyr wynde? Naie than must fatte and Iustie blouddꝭ doe the feate, hauyng boldnesse with the most, and witte with the lest [...] vnles perchaunce some would chose suche a souldiour as was Demosthenes, who fo­lowyng [Page] Archilocus the poetes rede, scarse lookynge his enemies in the face, threw downe his shielde and tanne awaie, as cowardly a warriour, as he was a wyse oratour. But Counsaile in warres (saie they) is of great importaunce, and as for that I sticke not muche, that counsaile in a capitaine is requisite, so it be war­lyke, and not philosophicall. For commenly thei that bringe any valiant feate to passe, are good blouddes, ven­turers, compaignions, swasshes, dispatchers, bankrowtes, with suche lyke, and none of these Philosophers candel wasters. Who how vnmete thei be to serue for any commen af­faire, or purpose amongꝭ men, we maie be taught by the example of Socrates hym selfe, the onely wiseman, but vnwysely iudged by Apollos oracle. That wher­as on a tyme he went about to haue saied his minde in a certaine mattier to the commens of Athenes, he lefte of sodeinly, beyng all to laught to scorne. How be it this Socrates, as in one poinct (me semeth) was not all wyde, in that he wolde not take vpon hym the name of a wyseman, but rather ascribed the same vnto god onely, and thought it best for a wyseman not to busie him selfe or medle with matters of the commen weale, vnles perhaps he myght haue saied more rightly, that who so woulde be taken amongꝭ the noumbre of men, shoulde not medle to muche with wysedome. For I pray you, what draue Socrates vpon his araignment, to drinke poyson, for the death he was condempned to, sa­uyng onely that his excellent, that his goodly qualitee of wysedome? Because, whiles whole daies together he trifled out the tyme, in disputacions vpon the cloudes, v­pon Idees, and by geometrie peyned hym selfe to meate a flies [Page] fecte, discussyng also how a gnatte, beyng so little a vermine, myght yelde so great a sounde, he neuer applied hym selfe to learne thyngꝭ perteignyng to this commen trade of lyfe. But now cometh Plato his disciple to defende his maister at the barre: a gaie Aduocate (I promyse you) who beyng offended with the noyse of the people throungyng about hym, coulde scante make an ende of the fyrst clause of his tale. And what saie you by Theophrastus? who takyng vpon hym to speake vnto a great assemblie, Wysemen dastards, either to fyght, or speake in a prease, as soone as he stode vppe, by and by coulde saie neuer a woorde, as if he had seen a woulfe at vnwares: and how shuld he than haue encouraged soul­diours to fight? Or els Isocrates? Who of a certaine naturall timorousnesse, durst neuer afore audience open his lippes? Marcus Tullius, the father of Romaine eloquence, euer with an vnsemely tremblyng began his oracions, as it were a sobbyng childe, whiche Quinti­lian enterpreteth to be the signe of a ware and wyse Oratour, who pondred well the waightinesse of his mattier. But whan he saieth so, dooeth he not plainely confesse, wisedome to be an obstacle against any bolde feate. For what will suche shrimpys she bodies dooe (trow ye) whan it cometh to handstrokes, that are almost dead for feare, whan they striue but with bare woordꝭ? And yet af­ter all this (on goddꝭ name) is that woorthy sawe of Plato muche commended, how those commen weales most happily shoulde flourishe, that were gouerned by philosophers, or whose gouernours applied them selfes to philosophie. No no, if ye loke in histories, ye shall fynde, no rulers were eue­more pestilent to a commen weale, than if the same at a­ny tyme fell into the handꝭ of suche one, as was geuen [Page] to any scet of philosophie. For proufe wherof, I al­leage vnto you the two Catons, thone wherof, with his headie and frantike accusacions, disturbed greatly the quiete of Rome citee: the other, in goyng about o­uer wysely to protecte the same, did vtterly subuert it. And ioigne ye hardly to theim bothe Brutus and Cas­sius, with the two Gracchi, yea and Cicero hym selfe, for as pestilent a citesein amongꝭ the Romains, as De­mosthenes was to the Atheniens commen weale.

Lykewyse, whattrowye by Marcus Aurelius? I ad­mitte he was a good emperour, and yet coulde I wrest that praise also from hym, because his to muche philo­sophership made hym odious and hatefull to the peo­ple. But admitte (I saie) he was good, yet truly more peruicious was he to the commen weale, in leauyng so vngracious an ympe, as Comodus was, for successour in his state, than euer he was profitable throughe his owne good wealdyng of the same. Wisemēs children commenly [...]ooles. For commenly this kynde of men, that are bookisshe, and geue theim selfꝭ to suche peuisshe disciplines, like as in other thin­ges, so also in childer gettyng haue very ill lucke, as if nature of pietie (I wene) prouided that this plage, this disease (I saie) of wisedome, should not sprede o­uer largely amongꝭ men. So Cicero had a soonne, farre vnlyke hym in condicions. And Socrates, that wise wiseman had children, lyker to theyr mother than their father, As one writeth merily, that is to saie, thei were fooles. Now though these wysemen be as vnapte for all publike offices and affaires, Wysemen vnfitte for any functi­on of this life. as an asse is to fynger an harpe, yet myght it soso be abidden, if thei were not also as vntowarde in any priuate dutie perteignyng to [Page] this life. For bidde ones one of these sages to diner, and either with his silent glommyng, or his darke and eluisshe problemes he will trouble all the bourde. De­syre hym to take handꝭ in a bralle, ye will safe a Camell daunceth. Bringe hym to a Mydsomer watche, or a stage plaie, and euin with his verie looke he will seeme to disdeine the peoples pastyme, so that wise dan Ca­to must be faine to auoide the place, because he can not forbeare his frownyng. Let hym lyght on a knotte of good com­pany talkyng merily, and by and by euery might holdꝭ his peace. If he must bie any thyng, make a bargaine, or briefely doe ought of those thyngꝭ, without whiche this commen life can not be ledde, then sooner will ye take hym for a blocke, than a reasonable creature. So muche lacketh ( [...]oe) that he may stande his countrei, or his friendꝭ in profitable steede, who neither is skilled in thyngꝭ daiely enured, and muche differeth from the commen opinion, and maners of the other people. Per consequent wherof, Wysdome bredeth ha­tred. he must nedes deserue theyr hatred and displeasure, through the great diuersitee of liuyn­ges, and disposicions at wixe theim. For and if ye list to iudge indifferently, is there ought doen here amongꝭ mortall men not full of foly, bothe by fooles, and afore fooles? So that if one onely wight woulde take v­pon hym to kicke against all the rest, him wolde I ad­uyse, that (as Timon did) he shuld shrincke into some desert, there to enioie his wysedome to hym selfe.

But to returne to my former purpose (I axe you) what maner charme it was, Folie the founder of states and commen weales. that enduced those auncient sto­ [...]y, woodden, and rude men in the worldꝭ fyrste age (as poetꝭ feigue) dispersed so a brode, to lyue together [Page] in citees, but onely Adulacion Adulacion. or glosyng speche? For what dooe poetes els signifie by that sweetetuned harpe of Amphion and Orpheus? What thyng also reuoked the comminaltee of Rome, rebellyng against the Senate, to agreement? was it any Philosophicall oracion? No for­south. What than? Euin a foolisshe Aesopes fable fei­gned of the beasie, and the other lymmes of mans bodie.

Lyke as Themistocles perswaded the Atheniens by his tale of the foxe and the hedgehogge: Coulde a­ny wyse mans oracion (trow ye) haue enduced those wylde and Saluage Spaniardꝭ to suche a conformitee, and obedience, as did Sertorius theyr wylie capitaine, vnder colour of Religion, and that deuise of his white hynde? Or as Licurgus allured the Spartanes through the example shewed theim of the two doggꝭ? with al­so that other fonde deuise of Sertorius makynge two horse tailes to be plucked at? I let passe Minos, and Numa, eache of whom with feigned fayrie inuencions bleared the grosse multitudes eies: For ye must thinke that suche lyke toies as these, are the liueliest and most pithie perswasions, that the myghtie madbeast the commu­naltee can be moued with: Wheras hitherto was ne­uer citee or commen weale, that woulde be gouerned by Platos or Aristotles lawes, no more than any nacion hath folowed those glorious rules and institutes of liuyng, that Socrates set foorth. But I praie you, what pro­uoked bothe the Decians willingly to bequethe thē sel­fes to the Infernall Gods? And likewise egged Quint Curtius to cast hym selfe into the great caue and swa­lowe of the grounde, that whilom opened in the mar­catsteede of Rome, Mainglory sauyng onely Vainglorie? Vain­glorie [Page] (I saie) that moste faire, and sweete bayted Mermaide, but (lord) how wonderously yet condemned by these sages? For what can be a more fonde part (saie they) than ambiciously, as in commen weales is vsed, A man to goe, and faune on hym, and hym, for their voi­ces? or with makyng commen giftes and distribucions to bie the peoples fauour? hyghly magnifiyng him selfe, whan the people crieth a larges on hym? Whan also like a pageant, or specta­cle prepared for the peoples eies, he rides about in triumph, crow­ned with sawrer? hauyng his image for a memorie of the facte sette vp in the marcatsteede, with muche curious entitlyng of his names, surnames, bynames, and office names, besides the immor­tall, and godlie honours, that are therupon decreed, to so meane and poore a caitiue as he is, least deseruyng thē, as not seldome the veriest tirannes that euer reigned, haue natheles with publike ce­remonies been cannonised into the noumbre of the gods. These are thyngꝭ as foolisshe as can be, to laugh wherat one Democritus suffisethe not. And yet, euin of this spring of Vainglorie come all your woorthy conquerours a­ctes, and famous feates, which with the style of so ma­ny eloquent writers are extolled vp to heauen. This verie branche of Folie buildeth citees, foundeth states, headrulers, religions, counsaile mates, iudgementꝭ, and briefely all the deedes & life of mortall men, is naught els than a certaine great plaie of Folie. How what I haue saied hereby, Foly inuen tresse of sciences. aswell I maie saie by artes and sciences. For whatels hath prouoked mens wittꝭ to seke out and disclose to their posteriours so many good­ly disciplines (as they take theim) sauyng onely an ar­dent thurst of glorie? Suche is the apetite of foolish men, with so great trauailes, watchyng, and sweetyng [Page] at the browes, to recouer a little, I worre nere what Fame, whiche either is nothyng, or nothyng is more vaine than it. But in the meane while, ye ought to conne me thanke, for suche, and so many commoditees, as they haue found out towardꝭ the better state of your lyfe. And that (whiche is most sweete of all) ye dooe peruse the fruite of other mens madnesse: Than sir, seyng I haue this chalenged vnto me the praise of for­titude, and of industriousnesse, what if I claime Pru­dence also? [...]rie pru­dence to come of fo­ [...]e, perhaps some will saie, as soone myght I goe about to mingle fyre and water. But for all that I hope to bringe it to passe, if as hitherto you haue dooen, ye vouchesaue me your eares, and atten­tiuenesse. And fyrst of all, if Prudence consisteth in longe practise and experience of thyngꝭ. vnto whether of these maie the honour of that name better square? Either to this wyseman, who partly for shame, and partly for dastardnesse of herte, attempteth nothyng, or els that foole, whom neither shame, beyng shameles, nor petill, beyng reckeles, maie feare from prouyng any thyng. A wyseman reportꝭ hym selfe to his bokes, and there learneth naught but mere triflyng distincti­ons of woordꝭ. A toole in ieopardyng, and goyng presently where thyngꝭ are to be knowne, Fooles iudge right lier than wisemen. gathereth (vnles I am deceiued) the perfect true prudence. Whi­che Homer seemeth, notwithstandyng his blindnesse to haue seen, whan he saied thus, A foole knoweth the thyng, that is ones dooen. For there be two stronge let­tes against suche knowlage of thyngꝭ to be gathered, that is to saie, shame and dreade: shame, that castꝭ a mist before mens myndꝭ: and dreade, that shewyng the perti­les, [Page] discounsaileth men from ventryng any enterprises. But I Folie maie, and am wonte to wype those lettes cleane awaie. Yea, few men consider, how many ways els it auaileth to blousshe at nothyng, and dare do [...]e e­uery thyng. But now (loe) and if ye take prudence after the rate, as whan it testeth in iudgement and dis­course of thyngꝭ, herken ye (I praie you) howe farre they are wyde therof, who dooe make it their chiefest profession. For fyrst it is not vnknowen, how all hu­maine thyngꝭ lyke the Silenes or duble images of Ascibia­des, haue two faces muche vnlyke and dissemblable, The S [...] ­nes of Al­cibiades. that what outwardly seemed death, yet lokyng within ye shulde fynde it lyfe: and on the other side what se­med life, to be death: what fayre, to be foule: what riche, beggerly: what cunnyng, rude: what stronge, feable: what noble, vile: what gladsome, sadde: what happie, vnlucky: what friendly, vnfriendly: what health some, noysome. Briefely the Silene ones beyng vndone and disclosed, ye shall fynde all thyngꝭ tourned into a new semblance. If these woordꝭ to some seme spoken to clerkly, goe to, I will expounde theim more plainely. I praie you, who is he that confesseth not a prince to be bothe riche, and a great lorde? but set case he hath no good qualitees of the mynde, nor with all those gooddꝭ he hath, can be satisfied: now is he not ri­che, but poorst than the poorest. Than againe admit he begeuin to sundrie vices: now is he no lorde, but more subiecte than a seruaunt: and after this rate maie ye skanne also the others. But this is enough for exem­ple. Now it maie be, ye muse what I meane here­by, but geue me leaue yet a little further. If one at [Page] a solemne stage plaie, woulde take vpon hym to plucke of the plaiers garmentes, whiles they were saiyng theyr partes, and so disciphre vnto the lokers on, the true and natiue faces of eche of the plaiers, shoulde he not (trow ye) marre all the mattier? and well deserue for a madman to be peltid out of the place with stones? ye shoulde see yet straightwaies a new transmutacion in thyngꝭ: that who before plaied the woman, shoulde than appeare to be a man: who seemed youth, should, shew his hore heares: who countrefaited the kynge, shulde tourne to a rascall, and who plaied god almigh­tie, Errour a­uailyng. shulde become a cobler as he was before. Yet take awaie this errour, and as soone take awaie all toge­thers, in as muche as the feignyng and counterfaityng is it, that so delighteth the beholders. So likewise, all this life of mortall men, This world a stage play of Folie. what is it els, but a cer­taine kynde of stage plaie? wheras men come foorthe disguised one in one arraie, an other in an other, eche plaiyng his parte, till at last the maker of the plaie, or bokebearer causeth theim to auoyde the skaffolde, and yet sometyme maketh one man come in, two or three tymes, with sundrie partes and appara [...]e, as who be­fore represented a kynge, beyng clothed al [...]t purpre, hauyng no more but shyfted hym selfe a little, shoulde shew hym selfe againe lyke an woobegon myser. And all this is dooen vnder a certaine veile or shadow, whi­che taken awaie ones, the plaie can no more be plaied. Here nowe if one of these wisemen, come (A we [...]e) from heauen, did sodeinly appeare, and saie, frowe euin this great prince, whom all men honor as their god and soueraigne, deserueth skarce to be called man, seyng like the brute beastes, be [Page] is trained by affections, and is none other than a seruaunt of the basest sort, seyng willyngly he obeith so many, and so vise vices his maisters. Or than againe, woulde bidde some other, who mourned for his fathers or friendes decease, rather to laughe, and he merie, because suche diyng to this worlde is the beginnyng of a better life, wheras this here, is but a maner death as it were. Furthermore, wolde call an other gloriyng in his armes and aun­ [...]estrie, bothe a villaine, and a bastarde, because he is so many discentes disalied from vertue, whiche is the onely roote of true nobilitee. And in suche lyke sorte woulde raile vpon all the rest. I praie you, what shulde he preuaile ther­by, but make men take him for frantike & distraught? For surely as nothing can be more foolisshe than wise­dome out of place, so is nothyng more fonde than pru­dence out of season. And dooeth he not out of season (trow ye) that plieth not him selfe as the world goeth? nor will not take the market as it ryseth? nor at least remembre the law of quassyng, Other drinke thy drinke, or rise, and goe thy waie? On the other side, it is a ve­rie wysemans part to coueite to know nothyng beyond his bandꝭ, and either as the whole multitude of other men dooe, to dissemble gladly, or to erre, and be decei­ued with the most. But euin this is Foly (saie thei). And in good faieth I will not muche denie it, vpon con­dicion againe they graunt me, that to dissemble, or erre so, is the right plaiyng of the pageantꝭ of this life.

But (Lorde) a thing now is come to my remembrance, shall I speake it, or kepe it in? and why shulde I kepe it in, syns it is truer than trueth it selfe? but it is best for me in so waightie a mattier as it is, to praie the Muses in myne ayde, whom poetes call vppon oftenti­mes [Page] for the veriest trifles they write. Come ye bithes therfore a little ye [...]oues daughters, Folie the guide vnto Sapience. whiles I proue that no man can attaine vnto that excellent. Sapience, the verie castell (as they name it) of felicitee, vnles I Fo­lie be theyr guide aud leader. Inprimis, I take it for all readie granted, that all the affections of man, pertaine vnto Folie. In as muche as philosophers put this distinction betwene a myseman, and a foole, that the one is ledde by reason, The disse­tence be­twene a foole and a wyseman. the other by sensualitee. and therfore dooe the Stoikes seclude all affections from a wyseman, as so many diseases of the mynde. But that notwithstandyng, these affections are not onely sette in steede of pilottꝭ to suche as woulde recouer the porte of wysedome, but also in any acte of vertue, are lyke certaine prickꝭ, or incitacions prouokyng a man to dooe well. How euer in this poinct the Archestoike Seneca strongly againsaieth me, who in no wyse will a wyseman shoulde haue any maner affection in hym, but whan he taketh that away, he leaueth man, no man, but rather a newfounde god without bodily sence, such as neuer was, nor neuer shall be. Yea, to speake plain­ [...]ier, he dooeth naught els than fourme a stone image of a man, without fealyng, or any maner inclinacion per­teinyng to a man in deede. Let the Stoikes therfore (if they list) take theyr wyseman to theim selfes, and make muche on hym alone, or (if they thynke good) go and dwell with hym in Platos citee, or in the lande of Fairie, or Vtopia. For whiche of you woulde not lothe, and blisse you from the company of suche mance a man, as were mortified, and benummed in all those sensis and vnderstandynges, that naturally other men are ledde by? that [Page] had no affections reignyng in him? nor woulde no more bee ster­red with loue, or compassion, than if he were a flint stone? that in nothyng could euershoote him selfe, but rather lyke Argus see, and cast all thynges to the vttermost? Forgeue no man? be one­ly pleased with hym selfe? The descri­pcion of a wyseman. esteeme him selfe onely to be riche? onely to be a kynge? onely to be a freeman? briefly, onely all thynges, but in his owne conceite onely? that cared for no frien­des? friende him selfe to no man? Wolde not sticke to defie the Gods? and what so euer is dooen of other men in this present life, to laugh at it and dispise it, as a verie madnesse? Yet suche a maner quaynt beaste is this complete wyseman of theirs. I praie you, if the choice went by voyces, what citee woulde haue suche a gouernour? What ar­mie suche a capitaine? naie what woman wolde desire suche an husbande? or who woulde bydde suche a gest to his house? or what seruaunt pike hym out, or con­tinue with a maister of so monstruous condicions? On the other syde, who woulde not sooner preferre any one chosen euin amonges the thickest of the people? who beyng a foole, could aptly either gouerne, or obey foo­les, please the myndes of suche as be lyke vnto hym, whiche is the moste parte, be treatable to his wyfe, gladly seen of his friendes, mearie in companie, and lastly woulde thinke nothyng vnbecomyng hym, that other men vse commenly to dooe. But I wene, ye be werie now of this theyr wyseman, as I, for my part, was a good whyle agoe. Let vs passe therfore ouer to some other mattier. Admitte than, some one, Onely Fo­lie releueth the mise­ries of this lyfe. (as the Poetes feigne by Iupiter) shulde out of an high high place behold and see in how many miseries mans life is wrapped, how wretched and vile his byrthe is, [Page] how harde his bringyng vp, how weake and pewlyng his childhode, how trauailsome his youthe, how hea­uy his age, and last how feareful his death were. Fur­ther, duryng all his lyfe, what bandꝭ of sickenesses doe assaile hym, what narow chauncꝭ hange ouer his head, what displeasures come vpon hym, how in all thyngꝭ he fyndeth more galle than hony, besydes the miuries whiche one of you scourgeth an other withall, as po­uertee, enprisonment, worldely shame, rebukyng, rac­kyng, gyle, treason, sklaunder, discencion, disceite (but now I goe about to tell the grauell of the sea) that for what offencꝭ men deserued suche miseries, or what god beyng theyr heauie lorde, condemned theim to leade theyr ly­ues so pestred and plonged in the same, ye shall perdon me, from expressing, as not leeful for me at this present to vtter vnto you. but who so shoulde (I saie) consi­der all these thynges accordyngly, myght it not moue hym to approue the example, and deede of the virgins of Milesia, be it neuer so piteous to reherse? For ye shall vnderstande, that willyngly, vppon no apparent cause why, they all hunge theim selues. But see­yng we chaunce to speake of voluntarie death, I axe you, who were those, that for tediousnesse of this life, did rathest preuent death with theyr owne handes?

Were thei not suche as bordred nearest vpon wisedome? amongꝭ whom (to let passe Diogenes, Xenocrates, Ca­to, Cassius, Brutus, and suche lyke) Chiron, the wyse Centaure, hauyng graunt of the goddꝭ, to liue euer (so lykyng hym) in theyr state of immortalitee, woulde none of it, but chose rather to die. Ye maie see ther­fore what inconuenience shulde ensue, if men were com­menly [Page] wise. So that we had nede of a new Promethe­us, a new mowld, and a new earth, to make men of, vnles I partly through ignorance, partly through vn­reckefulnesse, not seeldome through obliuion of peines passed, sometyme through hope of better fortune, yea and now and than sauouryng theyr bittred taste with a little hony of pleasure, did not in so manyfolde euillꝭ releue and succour theim. In sort, that lothe they are to die yet, Olde men desyrous to liue yet. though the fatall spyndell of theyr lyfe be­yng tonne out and expyred, Charons bote hath more than quarter ebbe taried for their passage hence. So that how lesse cause they haue, why they shoulde lyue, yet so muche leefer is life vnto theim, not that they fele any combraunce of the same. For it procedeth of my goodnesse (I warrant you) that commenly ye see olde men, of so hore and tremblyng age, as scant the figure of a man remaineth vnto theim, beyng bothe fumblers, dotardes, totheles, griselles, bald, (or rather to descriue them by Aristophanes termes) Nastie, crokebackt, wrincled, to­theshaken, and lame of their best limme (whiche for womanhode [...] name not) so desyrous yet of life, and so coltishe, as some one of theim will die his white heares, and shaue hym selfe twise a daie: an other will decke his bald crowne with a peruke: an other sette new tethe in his head, ta­ken perhaps out of some hoggꝭ chappes: an other fall in loue with some yonge pygꝭnie, vsyng more fondnesse in suche kynde of daliaunce than any youngman wold. For as touchyng suche Deathes dettours, and veraie Graueporers, as euin at theyr last cast wedde younge wenches vndowed, but meter to serue other mens tur­nes than theyrs, that is a thyng so commenly had in [Page] vse, as in a maner now it is arrected for a great praise and charitable kyndnesse vnto theim. But this is no­thyng, in comparison of the pleasant spectacle, whiche ye maie haue at many of these old women, Oldwomē who beyng neuer so muche palled with longe age, yea and so car­caslyke, as if they had lately come from deathes Court, will euer yet haue this prouerbe in their mouthes (life is life) still plaie the wantons, and still be tuppyng. Or at lest hyre some younge Phaon for mede to dooe the thyng, still daube theyr lither chekes with peiutyng, neuer goe from the glasse, shew out theyr flaggie and pendant duggꝭ, prouoke theyr staie nature with hote re­storitiues, sitte vp at bankettes, daunce gali [...]dꝭ write loueletters. &c. These thynges are mocked commenly, for the greattest folies (without question) that maie be. But yet dooe these my oldgurles not a little lyke theim selues herein, takyng it for a singuler and onely delight, as if they swamme vp to the chinnes in a sea of hony, wherin who but I doeth vphold them? and yet these deinty wisemen for all theyr scornefulnes, I woulde they shoulde no more but perpend thus with them selues, whither it be better through suche folie to lede a sugred life, or elles standyng euer vppon narow poynctꝭ of wysedome, to seke (as a man woulde saie) an halter to hange withall? For how so euer suche foo­lisshe pranckes are thought to brede an euill name, I praie you, what mattier is that to my fooles, who ey­ther feele not what the inconuenience of an ill report meaneth, or if thei fele it can so little set by it, and ease­ly passe it ouer? If a Mylstone fall vpon thy head, that is an euill in deede; but as for shame, reproche, losse [Page] of reputacion, or euill speche, these maie do the as muche hurt as thou felist theim: that and if thou felist theim not, than are they no euils at all. For what hurteth the, the proples hissing, as longe as thou clappest thy selfe on the backe? yet who hath the grace to do so vnlesse I Folie do arme him therto? But now (me thinkꝭ) I haue the philoso­phers ones more in my toppe. For that is (saie they) euin the greattest miserie of all, to be blinded so with Folie, to erre so, to be deceiued so, to be ignorant so. Naie verilier, that is it to be a man. And yet I see not why thei shuld call you miserable therfore, in as muche as ye be borne so, ye be ordeigned so, and made so, and such is the com­men destiney lotted to euery of you. For nothyng maie proprely be called miserable Myserable it is not that agreth with Na­ture. that agreeth with the kind it cometh of, vnles perchaunce some woulde thynke a mans nature were to be lamented, because he can not flie as burdes dooe, nor goe on all foure as other bea­stes dooe, nor fence hym with his hornes as bulles doe. But than by lyke argument, why call they not a faire horse miserable: because he neuer learned grammer? or eateth no rostmeate? or els a buile vnhappie, because he is not shapen to throw the barre? Ergo, as an horse, who can not his grammer, is not wretched, no more a man for his Folie is myserable, because it agreeth so aptly with his nature. But ones againe these cluishe Sophistrers heaue at me. The knowlage (saie they) of disciplines, is peculierly geuin to man, throughe helpe wherof, what he lacketh b [...] nature, he maie supplie with his witte and learnyng. A gaie mattier, as who saieth nature, which in gnattꝭ, yea and in herbes, and trees, hath so diligent­ly dooen bir parte, in man onely shoulde haue shewed [Page] hir selfe defectiue, and a niggard, where through he ne­ded to make recourse for ayde vnto disciplines. Whi­che disciplines Theutus that dismall sprite, Discipli­nes vnpro­fitable or rather hurt ful to man. who neuer willed good to mankynde, did fyrst fynde out, for your vtter destruction, so little auailyng towardes felicitee, as rather thei dooe hynder you from it, for whiche pur­pose they were chiefely ordeined, as Plato verie ele­gantly induceth that wyse Aegyptien kynge to argue, disputyng vpon the fyrst inuencion of writyng. So therfore, sciences came in fyrst, with the residue of the plages of mans lyfe, and founde out by the verie same authours, who lykewise are authours of all mischiefe, that is to saie, by diuelles: wherupon also they haue their name grounded. for Daemon, signifieth cunnyng, or a knower. But the good simple people of the olde golden worlde, without any disciplines at all, liued onely as Nature taught, and instincted theim.

For what neded thei any grammer, whan all the world vsed but one speche? whiche made also to none other purpose, saue that one myght vnderstande an other? Or wherto serued Logike, whan no controuersie of woordes myght make a double meanyng? Or, what place had Rhetorike, whan none contended with o­thers? Or to what effect stode Law, seeyng as yet euill maners reigned not, wherupon good lawes (no doubt) were fyrst grounded? Further, they were more religious, and godly, than with an vngodly curiositee to ensearche the secretꝭ of Nature, the [...]uantitee of the sterres, theyr courses, or influences, or the hydden cau­ses of thyngꝭ, supposyng it against goddꝭ forbode, that they beyng mortall and erthly men, shoulde struggle to [Page] know beyonde theyr degrees. Muche lesse that euer any suche madnesse came in theyr braines, as ones to thynke vpon the inquirey of thyngꝭ set aboue the ster­res. But whan by little and little the purenesse of the golden age decaced, than were sciencꝭ inuented (as I saied) by wicked sprites, but right fewe as yet, and practised by as few. Than afterwardꝭ, the superstici­on of the Chaldees, and idle newfanglednesse of the Grekes added (I wene) more than six hundred others, beyng mere vexacions of mens braines, in so muche as Grammer alone, is hable to kepe a man taske whiles he liueth. And yet (loe) euin amongꝭ suche sciences, those we see had in most price, than draw nearest to the commen sence and capacitee of all men (that is to saie) to Folie. For as for Diuines, they maie well enough walke an hungred: Mathematicall professours blowe theyr nayles: Astronomers are laught to scorne: So­phistrers are naught set by: Onely a Phisicion (as Homer saieth) is more woorth than twentie of the rest. Yea and commenly the rassher, the vncunnynger, & lesse cir­cumspect the vndertaker of any of those vsuall sciencꝭ is, the more yet is he regarded & allowed euin amonges great men also. Lyke as Phisike, accordyng as ma­ny now a daies dooe wrest it, is naught els than a mem­bre of Adulacion, as well as Rhetorike: Next place wherunto is geuin to Ciuilians and Lawiers: but I am in doubt, whether it be the seconde, or the fyrst, by the rules and [...]statutes of the vniuerfitee: of whose profession as I will saie nothyng, so other men are went with one consent to haue it in derision, as a cer­taine kynde of Asselyke philosophie: but yet these [Page] Asseheades be they, that rule all the rost, and enlarge their possessions, wheras a Diuine in the meane while lookyng ouer all his bookes of diuinitee, can hardly pyke hym out a radisshe roote for his diner, doyng bat­taile continually with gnattꝭ and lyse. And therfore lyke as sciences are the more happie, and auailable, the nearer affinitee they haue with Folie. So are those men most happie, who altogethers maie abstaine from medlyng with any sciences, and folow Nature onely for theyr guide and maistres, who in no parte of hir is lame, or insufficient, as longe as it suffiseth vs to kepe our selues within hir bandꝭ. For Nature abhorreth counterfeityng, Thynges without arte the morehappely flourish. and farre more towardly doeth it flou­risshe, that with least arte and cure is tended to. For see you not how amongꝭ brute beastes, and burdes al­so, those lyue most wealthily, that haue least to dooe with disciplines? nor are subiect to any others gouern­ment, sauyng Natures? The verie Bees (trow ye) how happy and merueilous is theyr propretee? and yet (pardic) they haue not all theyr senses. What house­wright by Geometrie founde euer out suche maner buildyng, as theyr commes are of? What Philoso­pher did euer fourme suche a commen weale as theyrs is? Contrary, an horse because he draweth nerest to mans sense, and is conuersant amongꝭ men, is ther­fore pertaker also of suche miseries as men are subiecte to. As who not seeldome, whiles he is ashamed to be ouer ronne for the belle, dooeth ryre hym selfe, and in battaile whiles he seketh victorie, dooeth oftentymes draw his guttꝭ after hym. Besydes the snafles and bittꝭ, he is broken with, the spurres he is gyrded with, [Page] the stables enprisonment he is hampred with, the whip­pes he is lasshed with, the cogillꝭ he is [...]asted with, the halters he is tyed with, the ryders he is laden with, and briefly, all that tragedie of his bondage, whiche willingly in a maner he toke vpon him (if we geue cre­dite to Aesopes fables) whiles (as these valiaunt men dooe) his desyre was to be wroken on the hart his ene­mie. Now bow muche leefer is the life of these pret­tie small burdꝭ? who onely as Nature pricketh theim, lyue from hande to mouthe, in depe quietnesse, as long as men will let theim alone? That and if they for­tune to be taken, and made to syng in a cage, yet (lord) how muche they want than of theyr natiue grace, and properuesse? So farre more liuely ye shall fynde it, that ra­ther nature induceth, than that arte constreigneth. I can ne­uer therfore fully commende Pythagoras, Pythago­ras coun­ted any brute crea­ture to be happier than man. who whan vnder diuerse bodies and likenesses he had ben all thin­ges, a Philosopher, a man, a woman, a kynge, a priuate per­son, a fisshe, an horse, a frogge, yea (I wene) a sponge also, iudged yet no kynde of creature more miserable than man, because all the reste were content to liue as Na­ture had limitted theim. Onely man woulde preasse to passe his bandꝭ. Yea and therfore amongꝭ men, he preferred also the Ideote, and simple vulgars, before other learned and reputed persons. So Grillus (I thynke) was better aduised, than Vlisses, for all his deepe witte, in that he had rather grunt still in the stie, beyng cha [...]nged into a hogge through Circes sorceries, than waifaryng with hym, to suffre so many wretched, and greenous chaunces. In whiche poinct I take it, that Homer also the father of fables, dooeth consent with me: that where in many [Page] places he calleth all mortall men bothe wofull, and wret­ched. and than againe speakyng of Vlisses, the exem­ple (as he makes hym) of a perfite wyseman, geueth hym the addicion of sighyng, or pensiue, whiche in no place ye fynde attributed to Paris, or Aiax, or A­chilles. But wherfore trow ye dooeth he so? Saue for that Vlisses beyng double, and craftie, vsed Pallas aduyse in all his procedyngꝭ, and was ouerwyse, as he that toke the fa [...]dest drifte he myght from Natures course. Wherfore lyke as amongꝭ mortall men they are fardest remoued from blisfulnesse, that geue theim selues to the studie of wysedome, yea, twyse foolishe in this, that beyng borne men, they woulde possiblie if they could, vsurpe the state of the immortall Gods, and (as poetes feigne the Geantes did) with theyr engins of sciences moue warre against Nature. So thei on the other syde seeme least miserable, and wretched, who drawe nearest to the bluntnesse of brute beastes, and attempte nothyng beyonde mans degree. For proufe wher­of I will not blinde you with these Stoikes Syllogis­mes, but rather induce you by some familiar exemple. And by the faieth ye owe to the immortall goddꝭ, maie any thyng to an indifferent considrer be deemed more happie, and blisfull, than is this kynde of men, Naturall [...]oles the happiest of all men. whom commenly ye call fooles, doltes, ideotes, and paches? by most fayre and goodly names as I take theim? Per­aduenture I moue a thyng without purpose, and verie fonde at the fyrst syght, but ere I haue dooen, ye will graunt I haue cause to saie it. Seeyng fyrst suche ideotes are free, and exempt from all feare of death, whiche feare is no small corrosiue, to a mind that min­deth [Page] it I warrant you. Lyke as they fele not what a twitching turment it is, to haue a grudged conscience, and shrinke as little at these old wiues tales of sprites, of diuellꝭ, of hobgoblyne and the fayries, neither mour­nyng to theim selues for feare of euillꝭ and aduersitees impendyng, nor braggyng ouermuche vpon hope of a­ny good lucke commyng. To be briefe, they are not tawed, nor plucht a sunder with a thousande thousand cares, wherwith other men are oppressed. Thei blushe at nothyng, they doubt nothyng, they coueite no digni­tee, they enuie [...]o mans fortune, they loue not pera­mours: and lastly if they be veraie brute Naturalles, now they sinne not, as doctours doe affirme. Here, I woulde my Maisters of sapience, naie rather Maister fooles, shoulde repute with theim selues, how on all sy­des theyr myndes are vexed continually. Yea lette theim but gather to accompt, to what a noumbre of discommoditees, inconueniences, and difficulties the state of theyr lyfe is endebted, and so they shall soone summe vp, from howe many, and howe great euillꝭ I haue subtraied these my sel [...]e paches. Who not onely them selues are euer mery, plaiyng, singyng, and laugh­yng: but also what euer they dooe, are prouokers of o­thers lykewyse to pleasure, sport, and laughter, as who saieth, ordeined herefore by the goddꝭ of theyr be­ [...]euolence, to recreate the sadnesse of mens lyues.

That wheras diuerse amongꝭ them selues are diuersly enclined, yet dooe all men generally with one assent owe fauour to these poore fooles, coueit them, fede thē, stroke them embrace them, yea so muche lacketh that a­uy wight of reason will do them any great iniurie, as [Page] the verie wildbeastꝭ (experience teacheth) haue been seen to spare and forbeare from hurtyng of theim, tho­rough a certaine naturall sense of theyr innocencie.

For suche Naturals are holy, and consecrate vnto the goddꝭ, specially to me: and not without cause therfore dooe folke so esteme theim. Lyke as many great lor­des there be, Great lor­des delite in fooles. who set so muche by theim, as scant they can eate theyr meate, or byde a minute without theim, cherisshyng them (by iysse) a little better, than thei are went to dooe these frounyng philosophers. A few of whi­che sort also for honours sake, and furniture of theyr courte, they vouchesaue to enterteine. But why they vse to make more of the other, I thynke it soone ges­sed, and ought not to be meruailed at. For these wai­warde wysemen neuer come foorth but with admonici­ons, and boke lessons, yea and throughe confidence of theyr learnyng, are not sometyme ashamed to saie the trouth: wheras my fooles supplie a farre more graci­ous and acceptable office, to delite men with theyr plai­yng, daliyng, fonde talke, and deuises. Yea and a­boue all this, haue a meruailous propretee, in that they onely are plainsaiers, and south speakers. And what is more laudable (at least as outwardely ye commende it) than plainesse of speche? For although Alcibia­des prouerbe in Plato ascribeth trouth to children and dron­kennes, yet maie all the praise therof be chiefly appen­ded to me, as Euripides can well testifie, who wrote thus: A foole speaketh like a foole (id est) plainely. For what soeuer he hath in his thought, that sheweth he al­so in his countinaunce, and expresseth it in his talke.

Wheras these wisemen are thei, that ar double tounged, [Page] as the aforesaied Euripides telleth vs, with the one of whiche they speake the trueth, with the other, thyngꝭ mete for the tyme and audience. Theyr propretee it is to chaunge blacke into white, and out of one mouthe to blow bothe hote and colde: and thynke vnhappeliest in their hertꝭ, whan they speake smotheliest with their toungꝭ. How be it me seemeth that princꝭ, how e­uer the haboundant felicitee of theyr estate is wont to [...]ase meane folkꝭ etes, maie yet as to this respecte be counted right miserable, because they want, of whom to here the trouthe, and are faiue therefore to take flattrers for their friendꝭ. But some will saie, trouth maie not at all tymes be spoken, and therfore are these wysemen so eschewed, because without respecte they speake frankly. Now so it is in deede, trueth (for the most part) is hatefull to princꝭ. And yet we see, that of fooles oftetymes, True talke of fooles vnpuni­shed. not onely true tales, but e­uin open rebukes are with pleasure declared. That what woorde comyng out of a wisemans mouthe were an hangyng mattier, the same yet spoken by a foole shall muche delight euin hym that is touched therwith. Suche a liuely grace to content men hath veritee, as longe as it be mixed with naught els that maie offende. But without offence to dooe the same the goddꝭ haue graunted to fooles onely. Women delite in fooles. And so in a maner vppon lyke causes, haue women lyke pleasure in theim, in as muche as naturally the Feminine Sexe is bended all to pleasure, and trifles. That what so euer they do with these fooles, although sometyme (maie chaunce) it be past sporte, yet haue they the easie to expounde it to be nothyng but a plaiyng toy, or a thing to make daliance, [Page] as euer women be redie witted to tourne and excuse the mattier. But now to retourne to my purpose, my I­deotes hauyng thus ledde foorth theyr tyme, in muche triumphe, and solace, at last without any feare or sense of death, dooe passe hence the right waie to paradise, there also to disporte theyr quiet and innocent soules in continuall plaie. Now goe to if ye list, and conferre any wyseman of theym all, with these my symple, and least regarded fooles, as touchyng theyr state of blisfulnesse. Or rather let vs draw on the other side, for a comparison betwixe theim, the extract of a man of wisedome. For exemples sake, a caitiue (so I maie call hym) that hath worne out all his childhode, The image of an abso­lute wise­man. and youthfull yeres in learnyng of disciplines, hauyng lost so the swetest part of his life in continuall watches, ca­res, and trauailes, nor in all the residew that euer ta­sted one dramme of pleasure, beyng euer niggardly, e­uer poore, melancholike, and frounyng: as harde and wrongfull to hym selfe, as insupportable and odious to others, pale, meigre, sikely, and blereyed, wasted a­waie with elde, and horenes, whiche his owne wilfull studie auaunced to him before his tyme: yea and before his tyme postyng (as it were) out of life, although it skilleth not how soone he dieth, who neuer yet liued.

And this (loe) is that goodly image of theyr wyseman. But ones againe these Philosophers, or verelier (Soike frogges dooe crocke at me), For nothyng (saie thei) is more miserable than madnesse: but a notable folie is nexte sybbe vnto madnesse, or ratber madnesse it selfe. For what is mad­nesse els, sauyng a generall errour and abusion of the mynde?

Tusshe, tusshe, these calues are euer in a wronge boxe: [Page] but let vs proue yet, by the Muses leaue, how we can refelle this Syllogisme of theyrs, whiche (in deede) thei haue subtilly knit togethers, but as in Plato, So­crates teacheth vs, to deuide one venus into two, and one Cupide, into two Cupides. So lykewise these Logiciens, if they had dooen right, shulde haue deuided or distin­gued one kinde of madnesse from an other. In as mu­che as euery madnesse, Euery er­rour of the mynde is not mad­nesse. is not straight therfore misera­ble. For than Horace wolde not haue saied, Is it not a swete, and pleasaunt madnesse that deceiueth me? Nor Plato likewyse woulde haue put the rauyng of poetes, prophetes, and louers, amonges the principall weales, and benefites of this life. Nor yet the prophetesse in Virgise woulde haue called the longe wandryng, and peregrinacion of Aeneas, a madde labour. But ye must vnderstande, that there be two kyndes of mad­nesse. Two kyn­des of mad­nesse. One is that rage, whiche the Furies of hell, beyng punisshers of the wicked, doe bringe with them, as often as thei graffe, and fasten in the mindꝭ of mor­tall men, either feruente desyre of an vniust reuenge­ment, or vnsaciate couetousnesse of golde, or cursed and vnleefull loue, or parent slaughter, or treason, with su­che other plages sent by the iust iudgement of the gods, for the punisshyng of misdooers. Or whan those Fu­ries do trouble, and vexe the giltie conscience of a man, with the pricke of dredefull furiousnesse. But there is an other kynde of madnesse, farre vnlike the former, whiche procedeth from me wholy, and most is to be em­braced. As often as a certaine pleasant rauing, or er­rour of the mynde, deliuereth the herte of that man, whom it possesseth, from all wonted carefulnesse, & ren­dreth it dyuers waies, muche recreated with new de­lectacion. [Page] Now this saied Errour of the mynde, as a speciall iewel, and benefite of the goddꝭ, was wisshed after, euin of Cicero hym selfe, in a certaine epistle he wrote to Atticus, to the ende he might haue no sense, nor vn­derstandyng of so great euils, as at those daies oppressed his coun­trey. Lykewyse Argiuus, he whom Horace writeth of, iudged not muche amysse. Who this far [...]oorth ra­ued, that whole daies togethers he woulde sitte alone in the Theatre (a place where the commen plaies were plaied) laughyng, and clappyng his handes, and re­ioysyng muche to hym selfe, because hym seemed veri­ly that some excellent Tragedies were in plaiyng there, wheras in deede he sawe nothyng at all. Whan yet for all that as to other respectꝭ, he behaued hym selfe wysely enough, beyng welbeloued of his friendꝭ, gen­till to his wyfe, and easie to his seruantꝭ, without fal­lyng in any rage with theim, whan he founde a backe faulset set in his wyne vessell. Now whan his kins­folkes procurement, geuyng hym medecines therfore, had healed his disease, and restored hym to his former wittes, marke ye, how he fell out with theim, in bla­myng their thanklesse and double diligence. Ye haue slaine, and not saued me; ô my friendes (quod he) in wrestyng my pleasure from me in this sort, and by force bereuyn gme suche a most delectable errour of my mynde. And well mought thou saie it (good Argiue). For it was thei that raued, and had more nede than thou of Elleborus to purge theim, who toke in hand to driue and expell out of the, so pleasaunt, and happie a madnesse, in stede of a great disease, as thei toke it. How be it, I am in doubte yet, whether euery Errour of the mynde and senses, [Page] deserueth to bee called madnesse. Euery er­rour is not madnesse. For if one that is [...]andblynde woulde take an asse, for a moyle, or an other praise a rime of Robyn hode, for as excellent a makyng, as Troilus of Chaucer, yet shoulde they not straight­waies be counted madde therfore. But he that not onely erreth in his senses, but is deceiued also in iudge­ment of the mynde, and that extraordinarely, and of custome, he (I saie) maie well be bolden madde, and out of his right mynde. As if some man so often as he heard an asse rore, did perswade hym selfe, he heard meruailous chauntyng of the Chapell: or a poore cai­ [...]iue borne of beggers, beleued he were Cresus the rich kynge of Lidia. And yet, cum this platte kynde of madnesse, so it tende (as for the most part it dooeth) vn­to pleasure, than bringeth it no small delectacion, as well to theim that are deteined therwith, as those also that perceiue it to be in others, hauyng theim selues no espece therof. For this maner madnesse is largelier sprede abrode, thau most folke wene it is. But in the meane while one madde man mocketh an other, and not seeldome you shall see the more madman, the lowdelier laugh the lesse to scorne. Yet for all that, so muche is eche of theim the more happie, No ma [...] voyde of madnesse. the more dyuers waies he is deceiued, so in his owne foolisshe iudgement, as long as he continueth still in that kind of madnesse, that is peculier to me, whiche surely is so largely deuided, as I doubt whether of the whole multitude of mortall m [...]n, ye can pyke me out one onely, who at all tymes maie auant him selfe to do wisely, and not to be grudged with some spece of madnesse. Albeit this is the dif­ference, that who so seeth a Goorde, and beleueth it is [Page] a woman, hym doe men geue the name of a madde man, because few are accustomed to erre so outtakyngly.

But whan we see an husbande take his wyfe, in whom he hath many Coparteners, to be chaster yet than euer was Penelope, muche reioysyng in his good happe, but right happely mistakyng the mattier, hym nowe dooeth no man call madde, because that maried men are commenly disposed to suche diseases. Folie of hunters. Muche after whiche rate do such folkes also raue pleasantly, as pre­ferre huntyng before all other pastimes, protesting what an incredible pleasure thei cōceiue, so often as thei here that foule musike, which a horne maketh, beyng touted in, or the howlyng of a meny of doggꝭ. yea I thynke the verie stenche of the houndes kenuell, senteth muske vnto theyr noses. For as touchyng the death of a deare, or other wilde beast, ye know your selues, what ceremonies they vse about the same. Euery poore man maie cutte out an oxe, or a shepe, wheras suche benai­son maie not be dismembred but of a gentilman: who bareheadded, and set on knees, with a knife prepared proprely to that vse, (for euery kynde of knife is not allowable) also with certaine iestures, cuttes a sunder certaine partes of the wildbeast, in a certaine order ve­rie circumstantly. Whiche duryng, the standers by, not speakyng a worde, behold it solemnly, as if it were some holy Misterie, hauyng seen the like yet more than a hundred tymes before. Than (sir) whose happe it be to eate parte of the flesshe, marie he thynkes verily to be made therby halfe a gentilman. So therfore wheras these hunters through continuall chasyng and catyng of theyr venerie, gaine nothyng, but in a maner [Page] dooe them selfes also degenerate into wilde and saluage propretees, ye maie see yet, how through this errour of mine, thei repute theyr lyues ledde in more than prince­ly pleasure. And lykewyse, are not they most mad­ly, but natheles pleasantly occupied, Builders. that wholy sette theyr study on buildyng? to set vp, and plucke downe againe, now square, now rounde, now of this cast, now of that, neuer makyng ende, till brought at last therby to extreme pouertee, they haue not so muche lefte them as a cotage, where to put in theyr headꝭ, nor one crosse of comfort, to bie theim breadde withall. But what therof? forsouth a few yeres haue they spent yet, in great wanhope, and pleasure. Not farre vnlyke these Alcumistes, or multipliers, Multipli­ers, who by theyr newfound se­crete science, go about to chaunge metall into metall, serchyng bothe by sea and by lande, a certaine Quin­tessence. These men are so enticed by an hope they haue to bringe theyr feate to passe, as neither labour, nor cost maie withdraw theim from the same, but witti­ly euer they dooe deuise some new thyng, wherwith to begyle theim selues againe, till at last, hauyng spent all they could make, there remaineth not to theim so mu­che siluer, as wherwith to bie bechen coles for their fornace. Natheles they leaue not to dreame still of wonderous pleasant inuencions, encourageyng others, as muche as in theim lieth, to the same trade of felici­tee. That whan at last all hope forsaketh theim, yet haue they this prouerbe in theyr mouthes, in steede of a great comfort and recompence, Saiyng, how in hiegh en­terprises, euin the good wyll alone is sufficient. And than (loe) in theyr excuse, accuse they the shortnesse of mans [Page] life, whiche suffiseth not for the great waight of so depe a cunnyng to be fully serched out. Moreouer these dyse plaiers, Dyse plai­ers, though I doubt whether theyr mad­nesse be foolisshe, or furious, yet surely it is a foolissh, and ridiculous sight, to beholde many of theim so ge­uin to the plaie, that as soone as they but here ones the sounde of the dysespringyng vpon the boorde. (Lorde) how by and by theyr hertes beginne to lepe and throbbe in theyr belies. Further, through a certaine suckling hope of gaine, hauyng made shipwrcke of all theyr goodꝭ, whan theyr shippe strikes vpon the Dyserocke, (a daunger farre more perilous, than is the race of Bri­taine) theim selues hardely escaryng in theyr hose and theyr doubletꝭ, yet sooner will they begyle theyr owne brother, than hym that nycked theim of theyr money, lest els perchaunce they might be counted foule game­sters. Yea, and beyng olde now, and almost blinde, yet plaie they still with glasen eres: and lastly hauyng theyr fyngers so knobbed with the goute, as rendreth them impotent, yet hyre thei some other to cast the dyse for them. In whiche kinde of madnesse (I wen [...]) thei myght passe theyr tymes right pleasantly, if it did not for the most part burst into a rage, and so pertaine ra­ther to the Furies of hell, than to me. But those men (no question) are wholy of my retinew, that put theyr sole delyte in tellyng or hearyng of these feigned mi­racles, lnuentors of old wy­ues tales and fei­gned mira­cles, or verilier monstrous lies, beyng neuer satisfied therwith, as whan they feigne certaine terrible tales of gostes, sprites, fairies, and dinels, with thousande su­che other old wyues inuencions, whiche the further thei sounde from trueth, are the gladlier beleued, and more [Page] pleasantly dooe fede mens eares. For surely suche fables are not onely doulcet to passe the tyme withall, but gainfull also to theyr practisers, suche as perdoners and limittours be. Than againe next neyghbours to these, are suche as haue a foolisshe, but yet a pleasant perswa­sion to theim selues, that what daie thei see a woodden or a peincted image of the geant saincte Christopher, no nuschaunce shall betide theim. Or if thei grete the grauen image of saincte Barbara, with some praier pre­scribed for that vse, they can not but retourne hurte­lesse from the warres. Or if vpon the sondaies they woorship saincte Erasmus, with certaine tapers and Paternosters, thei shall in short space become riche men. For what speake I of others, who with feigned Per­dones, Perdones, and remissions of sinnes dooe pleasantly flattre theim selues, takyng vpon theim to measure the space and continuance of soules abode in Purgatorie, as it were by houreglasses, settyng out, bothe the yeres, the monthes, the d [...]es, the houres, and the lest minutes, without missyng, as if they had cast it by Algrysme? Or what of those, that vnder confidence of certaine Magike praiers, and charmelyke Rosaries, Rosar [...]es, whiche some deuoute deceiuour inuented fyrste, either for his pleasure, or his profyte, dooe promyse theim selues all gladde thyngꝭ, richesse, honour, pleasure, good fare, longe health, lenger life, greene age, yea, and the next seate in heauen to ged almightie, whiche seate yet by theyr willes thei wolde not possesse to timely, I meane, that whan the pleasures of this life haue lefte theim muche against theyr willes, yea holdyng theim backe as it were by the teeth, than are thei at last content, to [Page] haue those heauenly ioies succede in the others places. And here now I maie bringe in the foolisshe wanhope (imagine we) of some vsurer, or man of warre, or cor­rupte iudge, who castyng foorth one halfpenie of all his euill gotten goodꝭ, will straight thynke that the whole hoorde of his former mislife, is at ones forgeuin hym, and that his periuries, his lecheries, his drunkennes­ses, braulyngꝭ, deceitꝭ, trumperies, and treasons, whi­che infinitely he by all his life committed, are therby as vpon a Quitꝭ est redeemed, yea and so redeemed, as it maie be leefull for hym, therupon to retourne a freshe to a new worlde of vices. Further, how foolisshe, naie rather how happie are those good soules? whiche in saiyng daily the .vii. verses pyked out of the whole Psaltier, beleeue they can not mysse of too too great a good tourne at goddꝭ handes? Whiche verses (it is saied) Sainct Bernard learned fyrst of a certaine mery conceited diuell, yet lenger tounged, than craftie, for the poore wretche let Sainct Bernard begyle hym. But as for the verses, beyng in deede so balde, and nothyng correspondent to the braue title they beare, as welnere I my selfe am ashamed of theim, yet are they allowed, not onely of the people, but also of my great presidentes of religion. Moreouer, Supersti­cious wor­shipping of sainctes, sauoureth it not of the same saulce (trow ye) whan euerie countrey chalengeth a seuerall sainct for theyr patrone, assignyng further to eche sainct a peculier cure and office, with also sundrie waies of woorshippynge? as, this sainct helpeth for the totheache: that socoureth in childbyrth: she restoreth stolne goodꝭ: an other aydeth shipmen in tempestes: an other taketh charge of husband mens hogges: and so of the rest: for to longe were [Page] it to reherse all. Than some sainctꝭ there be, that are generally sued to for many thynges: amongꝭ whom chiefely is the virgin mother of god: in whom vulgar folke haue an especiall confidence, yea almost more thā in hir sonne. Uulgar folke praie not to sainctes for wysedome. But what is it (I praie you) that men make peticion for vnto these sainctꝭ? sauyng for thyn­ges perteinyng rather to Folie, than ought els? Or a­mongꝭ so many peincted tables, images of waxe, and other offringꝭ, wherwith all the walles, and roofes of some pylgrimage chapels are decked, in token of daun­gers escaped, sawe ye euer any man yet escape folie, or made one heare the wyser? Some one (perchaunce) was saued from drowning: an other striken through with a pot gonne, recouered: an other, whiles bothe partes were together by the eares, no lesse happely, than manfully, fledde from the battaile: an other, beyng hanged on the galowes, through the fauour of some sainct, good maister to thenes, brake the haulter and ranne his waie, to the ende he myght ones more helpe to dis­charge suche, as are ouercharged with theyr money baggꝭ: An other, breakyng prison escaped: An other in spyte of the phisicion waxed whole of his longe botched sickenesse: An other, that dranke two sortes of poyson at ones, through the conflict of theyr contrarie operacions, beyng driuen into a laxe, founde theim rather medicinable, than deadly, vnto hym, full sore against his wiues will, who lost bother hir labour and cost a­bout it: An other, whan his carte ouertourned, brought his hor­ses home in sauetie: An other, beyng passhed with the fall of an house, lost not (thankes be to the sainct) his life: An other, founde a bedde with a mans wyfe, had the grace yet to shifte from hir husbande. But none of all these (I warrant you) yeldeth thankꝭ for his folie laied asyde. So [Page] sweete a thyng is it, to be cumbred with no wysedome, as men had rather axe perdone of any other thyng, than that. But how am I entred thus farre, into this Sea of supersticions? That if I had an hundred tounges, as ma­ny mouthes, and a voyce therto of yron, yet coulde I neuer des­ [...]iue halfe the kyndes of fooles, nor recken vp halfe the names of theyr folies. So swarmeth on all sydes the life of chri­sten men, with this blindnesse: whiche natheles prie­stes not onely dooe admitte gladly, but also set it for­wardꝭ, because they know well enough on whiche side theyr breade is buttred. But now, if some one of these cumbrous wysemen shoulde ryse vp, and saie (and saie truely) thou shalt neuer die ill, as longe as thou li­uest well: Thou redeemest thy synnes, in case to one halfpennie geuin to the poore, thou addest repentaunce of thy misdeedes, to­gether with teares, praier, and fastyng: and changest all the trade of thy syfe: this sainct will helpe the, if thou liuest as he did. These aduertisementes, and suche semblable, if this wyseman (I saie) shoulde barke vnto the people: See than straight from howe sweete a felicitee, into howe great a trouble and confusion, he shoulde plucke backe the myndes of mortall men. To this college doe thei also pertaine, Funerall [...]ompes. who by theyr liue daies, dooe seriously enacte, with what pompe and ordre they woulde be bu­ried. So farfoorth as by tale also they expresse the noumbre of the torches, tapers, mourners, priestes, and orders of friers to synge at theyr funerallꝭ: And than, how many hyred for money must lament and howle for theim. As who saieth, any maner sense of this specta­cle shoulde redounde vnto the deade. Or as if they, shoulde blusshe and be ashamed, vnles the corps were [Page] woorshipfully enterred, with none other desyre in this poyncte, than if beyng made maiors or sheriues they shoulde ordeine a midsomer syght. And truely, make I neuer so muche haste, yet I can not passe ouer in si­lence those pecockes, whiche in deede are nothyng dif­ferent from the poorest coblers that clowte shoone, and yet vnder a vaine title of nobilitee doe wondersly stand in theyr owne conceites. One of theim bringꝭ his pe­tigrew from Aeneas, an other from Brutus, an other from Arthur: They shew the grauen and peincted ar­mes of theyr auncestours: they speake of theyr graund­fathers, great graundfathers, belgraundfathers, and great bel­graundfathers, wheras they theim selues stand lyke bloc­kes, in a maner lesse worth, than those peincted signes, whiche they glorie in. And yet, through this sweete perswasion of Selflykyng, they leade a golden life: namely since suche there want not, as verie fooles as the other, that haue these kynde of calues in veneraci­on, as if they were goddꝭ. But what speake I now of one, or two exemples? as though this Selflykyng made not most men, manifoldly, by wonderous meanes, most happie in theyr owne opinion: as whan one fow­ler than any marmoset, Euery wight ly­keth beste hym selfe. thynkꝭ hym selfe to be goodlier than Absalon. Or some other, as soone as he can draw three lynes with a compasse, takes hym selfe to be as good in Geometrie as euer was Euclides. An o­ther lyke an asse to the harpe, though he syng no better than a Gynee cocke, weneth yet to be Hermogenes, that excellent musicien. Than againe, this (no faile) is a sweete kynde of madnesse, whiche we see in diue [...]s fooles, who what euer qualitee theyr friendes, or ser­uauntes [Page] haue, dooe glorie as muche therin, as if they coulde dooe it theim selues. Not muche vnlike that wealthie richeman, whom Seneke writeth of, Who takyng vpon hym to tell a tale, had euer his seruauntꝭ at hand to prompt him where he missed: and beyng him selfe so feble, as scantly he coulde stande on his leggꝭ, woulde not feare yet vpon confidence of so many pou­dredbefe lubbers, as he fedde at home, to make a mache with any man at footeball. Furthermore I thynke in nedelesse for me, Gradua­tes of ar­tes. to touche any whit these graduates of artes, and sciences. Seyng that Self loue is alto­gethers so muche theyr alie, as any of theim will soo­ner be driuen from the enheritance his father lefte him, than geue place in cunnyng to any others: but chiefely these Syngyng men, Sophistrers, Rhetoriciens, and poetes dooe excell therin: amongꝭ whom, the vncunnynger, the more lyketh hym selfe, and the franklier bosteth what he can dooe. And lyke setuce, lyke lippes: for the balder the thing be, the more are men wont to be in loue with it: as commenly the woorst thyngꝭ are best fante­sied, because (as afore I saied) the most parte of men are subiecte vnto Folie. And therfore, if so be that a man the vncunnynger he is, the deeper yet standeth in his owne conceite, and is of moste men the more acce­pted, now I see not to what entent he shoulde rather coueite the true and perfite knowlage of the thyng that he professeth, whiche fyrst shoulde cost hym longe labour and expence before he atteine it, and beyng ones had, should make hym the lesse vnderstanded, the more fearefull to misse in vttryng of it, and lastly commen­ded of a farre fewer noumbre, because most mens rude­nesse [Page] can not reche to the fines of the same. Moreouer, wee see how nature as in singular men, The com­men self li­kyng of eche Naci­on. so also in eche Nacion, and almost in eche citee, hath graffed a certaine commen selflikyng. And so it commes to passe, that Englisshemen peculierly before all other thyngꝭ, dooe vindicate vnto theim faire shape of the bodie, musike, and well farsed tables. Scottes, dooe bost theim sel­ues in theyr nobilitee, and nerenesse of bloudde to their prince, not a little also flattryng theim selues in theyr Duns doctrine. Frenchemen, woulde be counted ci­uile, and curteis of maners. Parisiens, all other na­mes set asyde, desyre yet that the science of Theologi [...] be peculierly annexed to theyr vniuersitee. Italians, a­boue all men count theim selues learned in humanitee and eloquence, chiefely gloriyng in this, that amongꝭ all other nacions, they be not Barbarous. In whiche kynde of felicitee the Romains are principall, who e­uin yet, dreame pleasauntly of the triumphes of theyr olde Rome. Venecians, put great confidence in their nobilitee. Grekes, as authours of all sciences, doe magnifie theim selues in so many famous men, as whi­lom flourished in theyr countrey. Turkes, and all that frothe of the verie Barbariens, wolde be commended yet euin for theyr religion, laughyng christen men to scorne, as rather full of supersticions. But muche more sweetely are the Iewes deceiued, who constantly loke yet after theyr Messias, and euin till this daie stande obstinately by theyr Moyses law. Hispanierdes, wolde be taken for good men of warre. Allemaignes, dooe faune vpon theim selues for theyr talnesse, and knowlage in artmagike. Thus, as it were to longe to [Page] repete all, so you see (I trow) how muche this arro­gance of Self loue dooeth delite all men, in all places. With whom in a maner hir syster Adulacion may com­pare. For Self loue is naught els, but whan a man fauneth on hym selfe. Whiche if thou dooest to an o­ther, than is it Adulacion, or flaterie. But now a daies Flaterie (on gods name) is taken for a vite fault, but of suche as are moued rather with the name, Flaterie a most requi­site and commodi­ous thyng to mans conuersa­cion. than with the thyng it selfe. They thinke how faieth, may euill ioygne with flaterie, whiche to be otherwyse, we maie learne through the exemple of brute beastes. For what can be more faunyng, and flattryng to a man, than a dogge? but than againe, what is more faiethful? What is fuller of daliance than a squyrell? but than againe what is lesse hurtfull? Unlesse perchaunce ye will saie, that Lyons, Tygres, or Leoperdꝭ are meter for mans recreacion. How be it there is in deede a certaine kynde of flaterie, wherby some traitours and deceitfull villaines, dooe traine simple folkes oftenty­mes to theyr vndoyng. But this Adulacion of myne procedeth wholy from a certaine gentilnesse, and easie whitenesse (as it were) of a friendly good will, and draweth muche nearer to a vertue, than dooeth hir con­trarie, that is to saie, a roughe plainesse, or vnmanerly crab­bednesse, to beare with no man. This Adulacion encou­rageth a weake sprite, comforteth one droupyng in sad­nesse, quickeneth a langwisshyng thought, wakeneth a dulle head, reiseth vp a sicke mynde, mollifieth a stub­bourne hert, getteth loue, and ones gotten, reteineth it still, enticeth children with a good wil to lerne their bo­kes, gladdeth olde folkes, teacheth, and admonissheth [Page] princꝭ of theyr duities, vnder coulour of praise, with­out offendyng, briefely, it maketh that eche man to him selfe is bothe dearer, and more acceptable: whiche ef­fect maie well be taken for the chiefest membre of feli­citee. And what can be more faunyng, than whan one man praiseth an other? lyke moyles clawyng eche others backe? Or what nedeth me to alleage vnto you, how this flaterie supplieth a great good porcion of that fa­mous Eloquence, greatter percell of Philike, & greatest of Poetrie? at ones, that she is euin the verie hony, and conserue of mans societee and companiyng togethers? But Philosophers saie it is a miserable thyng to be begy­led, and erre so. Naie, most miserable is it (I saie) not to erre, Mans life dependeth vpon opi­nions of thynges, and not to be deceiued. For too too are thei de­ceiued, who wene that mans felicitee consisteth in thin­ges selfe, and not rather in the opinion how the same are taken. In as muche as in all humaine thynges, there is so great darkenesse and diuersnesse, as nothyng maie be clerely knowne out, nor discouered: lyke as truely was affirmed by my Academicall philosophers, the lest arrogant a­monges all theyr Sectes. Or if that ought maie be knowen, the same yet not seeldome disauaileth to the gladsomenesse and pleasure of the lyfe. Lastly, so is mans mynde framed, as muche more it deliteth in thyn­ges to the shew, than in suche as are in deede. Wher­of who so list to haue a liuely prouffe, let hym no more but goe to a sermon, wherin if ought be saied grauely, and to the mattier, he shall see straight all the audience, other slepe, or gaspe, or be vrkesome. But and if the skreker (the preacher I woulde haue saied) falleth out of his purpose, as commenly their vsage is, into some [Page] tale of Gesta Romanorū, or suche lyke, than by and by they lift vp their headꝭ, they stande vp, and geue good care. Also if any sainct amongꝭ other, semeth rathest to be newfounde or poeticall, admitte it be sainct Bran­don, saint Christophre, or sainct Barbara, the same yet shall ye see more deuoutly woorshipped, and vowed to of the people, than Peter, or Paule, yea or Christ hym selfe. But these mattiers perteine not to this place.

Consider you therfore, how muche lesse costeth the ac­quirey of this felicitee, whiche dependeth on the sem­blance and opinion of a thyng, as if it were had, than that other of the thyng selfe, beyng had in deede, whi­che be it of neuer so small value and estimacion, as Grammer, yet you see how longe a man must sweate ere he gette it, wheras the semblaunce of the same ye maie easelie conceiue, and come by, through your owne perswasion: and yet shall that conceipte as muche, or more auaile you towardꝭ felicitee. For admitte that one eateth stinkyng saltfisshe, wherof some other could scant byde the smelle, and yet to his mouthe it tasteth sweeter than a partrich, now (I praie you) what dif­ference is there, as touchyng the felicitee he taketh therin? Or an other abhorred to eate of a Carpe, or some other delicate kynde of fisshe, did that any thyng hyndre the blisfull state of his life? If a man hath a wyfe as vglie as maie be, who yet in his conceipt maie compare in beautie with Venus, is it not all one now vnto hym, as if she were fayre in deede? If he that beholdeth a table daubed with a little durt and redde Okre, did perswade hym selfe it were a pece of Apel­les or Hans Holbyns peinctyng, is he not happier (trow [Page] ye) than some other, who at great price haue bought some of those woorkmens woorkꝭ? and peraduenture take lesse pleasure in regardyng of the same, than he dooeth of his? I know a gentilman, that presented his new wedded wife with certaine counterfeict stones set in ringꝭ, perswadyng hir (as he could dooe finely e­nough) that not onely they were true, and orient, but also of great value. Now I praie you, what skil­led that to hir? Seyng she contented bothe hir eies and fantesie with those counterfeictꝭ, kepyng them for a great treasure, wheras the housbande in the meane season bothe spared cost, and toke pleasure at his wy­nes errour, who natheles conned him as great thanke, as if they had been right iewels. Is there any diffe­rence (trow ye) betweene suche as Plato feigneth sittyng in a caue vnder the grounde, to see nothyng but shadowes and repre­sentacions of thynges, so that they dooe coueite naught els, and content theim selues therwith, and that wyseman, he imagineth shoulde come out of the caue, and so see verie thynges as they are in deede? That and if Micillus in Lucians dialogues had euermore dreamed that his golden & riche dreame, than neded he not to haue wisshed for any other felici­tee. Conclude therfore, that no difference is betwene a thyng it selfe, and the opinion or semblaunce of the same: or if there be, than are my fooles yet in the hap­pier trade. Fyrst because theyr felicitee costeth theim as little as can be, as onely an easy perswasion and be­lefe that they haue, or can dooe a thyng. Nexte than, for that they eni [...]ie theyr felicitee in commen with ma­ny others, and pardie ye knowe, how vnpleasaunt the possession of any weale is, without felowship, as if a [Page] man dwelled without company in the fayrest platte of the whole earth. Wherunto I maie lyken these wise­men. For who is he that knoweth not how scarce the [...] are to fynde, in case ye fynde any at all? In deede the Grekes in so many hundred yeres coulde pyke out but seu [...]n of theim: and yet if ye siphte those well, I re [...]y my selfe, and ye fynde one halfe, yea or the thyrde part of a wiseman amongꝭ theim all. Therfore, if amon­ges many commoditees whiche my cosyn Bacchus doth endue you with, Drunken­nesse. this (and woorthily) is reputed the chiefest, that throughe drunkennesse he wypeth all cares, and anxietees from the mynde, but for a season onely, (for as soone as one hath slept a while vpon his drinke, and tempred so his braines, than returne in post haste his former trou­bles and vexacions). How farre more ample, and re­die than is my benefite of Folie vnto you? Folie a cō ­tinuall drunken­nesse. whan tho­rough a continuall drunkennesse (as it were) I reple­nishe your myndꝭ, with muche ioie, delite, and pleasure, yea and that so easelie brought about? Whiche bene­fite of myne I dooe distribute to all men, wheras o­ther Goddꝭ gyftes are deriued sundrely vpon sundrie men. Pardie, these noble and fine wiues that are ha­ble to resolue sadnesse, and make men plucke vp theyr stomakes, dooe not grow in euerie place. Few haue the gyfte of beautie through Venus fauour. Fewer haue eloquence at Mercuries handꝭ. Hercules maketh not all men riche. Iupiter graunteth not kyngdomes to euery bodie. Oftentymes Mars fauoureth neither partie. Many retourne discomforted from Apollos oracle. Not seeldome Ioues thunder destroieth men: and Phebus launceth his arowes of plage amonges [Page] you. Neptunus drowneth more folkꝭ than he saueth (for what shoulde I speake of these Veïoues, Pluto­nes, Ates, Peynes, Feuers, and suche other, not god­des, but rather helhoundꝭ and turmentours vnto you). But I Folie am she, Folies po­wer embra­ceth all men. that egally dooe comprehende all men vnder the compasse of my so great a good gifte. And loke not yet to be praide vnto, nor am not angrie, nor seke amendꝭ, whan any parte of my sacrifice is misdoen, or ouerslipped. Nor I mingle not heauen and earth together, if any one biddyng the other Goddꝭ to a sacrifice banket, leaueth me onely behynd, and allow­eth me not my porcion of the smoke, and sauour of the burnt offryngꝭ. For of the other Goddꝭ in this poinct suche is the morositee and ceremoniousnesse, as in a ma­ner it is easier, yea and lesse perill for a man to let them alone, than to medle with theyr rites, and obseruauncꝭ. Lyke as some men there be, so waywarde of nature, and so testi [...]e, as better it were not to vse theyr compa­ny, than to claime any acquaintance of theim. But no man (saie they) maketh sacrifice vnto folie, nor buildeth hir a temple. Now surely I meruaile not a little, (as afore I saied) at suche ingratitude of men. But yet of my gentilnesse I take this also in good part. Albeit to saie the trouth I fynde no want therof at all. For why shoulde I requyre, either frankensence, or leuained meale, or a gote, or a hogge for my sacrifice? Wheras all mortall men, in euerie region, doe yelde me that woorshippyng, whiche euin by these scripture doctours is wonte to be moste approued? Unlesse perchaunce I shoulde enuie Diana, because hir altars ar besprent with mans bloud. Naie, I thinke my selfe to be than moste amplie, and [Page] religiously woorshipped, whan euerie where, all men beare me (as they dooe) in theyr hertꝭ, How men woorship Folie. expresse me in theyr maners, and represent me in theyr lyuyng. Whi­che kynde of woorshippyng is not verie rife, no not a­mongꝭ Christians. For what a noumbre of theim see we, to set tapers afore the virgin mother of God: and that at noone daies whan lest nede is? But than a­gaine, how few of theim goe about to folow hir steppꝭ either in chas [...]nesse of life, sobrenesse of maners, or loue of heauenly thyngꝭ? For so shulde sainctꝭ most digne­ly be woorshipped. Moreouer, why shoulde I fynde lacke of a temple, All the worlde a temple to Folie. seeyng all this worlde is in maner of a temple most goodly (as I take it) vnto me? And as for priestꝭ of my law, and other ministers of my re­ligion, I am sure I want none in any place, wheras men want not. Than, I am not altogether so foolish, to demaunde any grauen or peincted images represen­tyng me, Grauen & Peincted i­mages. whiche rather shoulde derogate than aduance myne honour [...] wheras oftentymes I see many do [...]tꝭ, and fatteheddꝭ woorshippe suche stockꝭ, instede of the sainctꝭ theim selues, wherby I might chance to be ser­ued, as they that are thruste out of theyr roumes, by theyr deputies. But I take it, that so many imagꝭ are erected in my name, as there be liuyng men, bea­ryng the liuely representacion and image of me about theim, will they, or will they not. Wherfore, I haue no cause to be agreeued with the other Goddꝭ, though they be woorshipped sundrely, in sundrie partes of the earth: and that at tymes of the yere prefixed. As Phe­bus in the Isle of Rhodes, Venus in Cypres, Iuno at Argos, Minerua at Athenes, Iupiter in Olympus, [Page] Neptunus at Tarentum: and Priapus at Lampsacum, Wheras all the worlde vniuersally offreth me daie by daie farre dearer, and more digne sacrificꝭ, than theirs are. That and if I seme to some folkꝭ, to haue spo­ken these woordꝭ more stoutly, than truely, goe to, let vs but view a little, and consider the veraie lyues, and doyngꝭ of men, and so it shall manifestly appeare, how muche thei are endebted vnto me, and how muche I am made of, bothe of hiegh and low degrees. Yet I entend not to accoumpt euery mans life, for that were an end­lesse labour, but a certaine onely of the moste notable, wherby ye maie easely gesse, what the rest are. For what nede I to alleage vulgar people? who altoge­thers (without any question) aperteine to my bande? The com­men life of men full of Folie.

So many veines of Folie they abounde in, and so many new mynes they dooe fresshe and fresshe seke out, as a thousand suche as Democritus was, shulde not suffice to laughe at theim, although yet those verie laughers had nede of an other Democritus to laugh theim also to scorne. Yea, and it passeth, to see what sporte and passetyme the Goddꝭ theim selues haue, at suche Folie of these [...]elie mortall men. For as for the forenoone, and sobre houres of the daie, those the Goddꝭ spende in counsaile mattiers, and hearyng of mens vowes, and supplicacions. But after diuer oues, whan they haue drunken merily of theyr Nectar, and list not to treate on ernest affayres, than whiche syde of heauen bendeth most towardꝭ the earth, How the Gods out of heauen beholde mens folies in earth. there sitte they, and intentiue­ly beholde what mortall men dooe: and surely no spe­ctacle can be more pleasaunt vnto theim. Good lorde, what a Theatre is this worlde? how many, and diuers [Page] are the pageantes that fooles plaie therin? For I also not seeldome am wont to sitte amonges the Goddꝭ to marke mens dooyngꝭ. One man see they redie to die for loue of a woman, and the lesse he is beloued, the more hotely to pursue hir. An other marieth the goodꝭ, not the wydow. He settꝭ his wife to sale. An other ielous wretche lyke Argus, kepeth his in mewe.

This man mourneth, and lorde, what folies saieth he, and dooeth he, hyryng also some plaiers (as it were) to wepe and howle for the nones. An other, what so e­uer he can rape and rende, slingeth it into his bealy gutte, whan not longe after he woulde gladly skamble for a pece of biskette. An other puttꝭ all his delite in slepe, and slouth. There be some suche also, as busie them selues busely in other mens businesse, not lokyng ones how theyr owne goeth. Some coumpt theim sel­ues riche men, in borowyng of Peter to clothe Paule, whan soone after they fynde not one fardyng left, wherwith to blisse them. An other thinkꝭ nothyng better, than liuyng hym selfe wretchedly, to make Iohn̄ his sonne riche. This man for a little lucre, and that also incer­taine, skymmeth all the seas committyng his life to the waues and the wyndes, whiche no money maie restore to hym, ones beyng forlorne. He had rather seke him riches in the warres, than slepe in a whole skynne at home. There be some, that in pliyng, and geuyng at­tendaunce on olde men childerlesse, wene to become ri­che through executourship. Suche want not also, that in wowyng of these wealthy olde trottꝭ, thynke to speede sooner of their purpose. Either of whiche than surely make most pastyme to the Goddꝭ theyr be­holders, [Page] whan of those that they goe about to traine, they also are trained, and bayted with crafte for craft. But aboue all others, vsurers Usurer [...], are a kynde of men most foolisshe and filthy, whose trade and occupacion be­yng in deede the v [...]lest that can be, and therto handled by them after as vile a maner, with liyng, forswearing, bribyng, begylyng, and shiftyng, yet coumpt they them selues to be head men of theyr parisshes, because they weare hoopes, and goldryngꝭ on theyr fyngers. And no meruaile, whan these blinde minions, these friers, can so faunyngly vpholde theim in their sermons to the people, callyng theim worshipfull, and venerande mai­sters, in hope that some porcion of those euill gotten goodꝭ, maie somewhat in compensacion of theyr golden glosyng, fall vnto theyr couent. You shall see againe some others so muche geuin to Pythagoras secte, (who wolde haue all thynges amonges friendes to be in commen) that what so euer they fynde liyng at large, with as free a conscience they will take it, as if it came to theim by inheritaunce. There be some also, who onely with wisshyng and wouldyng are riche in theyr owne faute­sie, as whan they imagine certaine sweete dreames of gladde thynges to befall theim, whiche they take suffi­cient for theyr whole felicitee. Many reioyse to be holden richmen abrode, liuing at home with an Orenge, or an Oynion. This skapethrifte, throweth his goodꝭ against the walles. That pennie father, skrapeth it togethers, bothe by God, and by the diuell. He, is driuen through ambicion, to seke fauour at hym, and hym. He, is no medlar, but sittꝭ by his owne fyre at home. Many fooles, tangle theim selues in the law, [Page] and can neuer gette out of it, but holde and shoue on bothe sydes, onely to make fa [...]te these adiournyng iudges, and Ambidexter Aduocates. This man lo­keth for a new worlde. That man compasseth some depe drifte in his head. Some one hath an especiall deuocion to goe to Ierusalem, to Rome, or to sainct Iames in Galice, leuyng his wife and children succour­lesse in the meane while at home. Briefely, if one (as Menippus did) lokyng out of the moone, behelde from thence the innumerable tumultꝭ, and businesses of mortall men, he shoulde thynke verily he saw a me­ny of flies, Mortall men com­pared to a meny of flies. or gnattes, braulyng, fightyng, begilyng, robbyng, plaiyng, liuyng wantonly, borne, bredde vp, decaiyng, and di­yng: So that it is scant beleuable, what commocions, and what Tragedies, are sterred vp, by so littell, and so short liued a vermyn as this man is. For sometimes a small storme of warre, or pestilence, swopeth awaie and dispacheth many thousandes of theim togethers. But I were plainely moste foole of all, and woorthy whom Democritus, with many laughters shuld poinct to scorne, if I toke vpon me to tell vppe all the fortꝭ of vulgar peoples Folie and madnesse: The folie of those that are counted of the wiser forte. and not rather tourne me to those, who amongꝭ you, haue a certaine reputacion of wisedome. Suche as compasse no meane thynges, but aspire euer to a certaine preeminence in knowlage and cunnyng aboue others. Amonges whom Gramarians Gramari­ans, and scholemaisters seme to be right notable. A kynde of men (doubtlesse) most misera­ble, most slauelike, and most contemptu [...]us, vnlesse I did mitigate and releue the discommoditees of theyr most wretched profession, with a certaine swete bayte [Page] of madnesse. For surely these Grammerteachers are not pestred with one, or two euils, but rather with centum grauamina. As who euer in theyr scholes, their scholes, saied I? naie rather in their Chapitre houses, session places, or bucheri [...]s, beyng alwaies bare, hungrie, & slouenly, do wast theim selues awaie with continuall trauailes a­mongꝭ a meny of boies, waxe death with noyse and cri­yng, kyll theim selues with stenche and filthinesse.

And yet through my benefite, they coumpt no men like theim selues. So lordely a thyng they take it, whan their feare their feareful flocke, with a thretenyng voice and countenaunce. So princely an execucion, to teare the poore boyes arses with roddes, and ferules, plai­yng the tourmentours, and termagantꝭ amonges them, muche lyke the asse wrapped in a lyons skynne. But yet, whiles they are thus occupied, that their filthinesse se­meth more than clennesse vnto theim, that stenche, and fyslyng, smelleth ambre grise, that bondage of bon­dages is taken by theim for a kyngdome: So farfurth as they wolde not chaunge theyr tyrannisshe estate, nei­ther with Phalaris nor Dionysius. But farre more blisfull yet be they, throughe a certaine conceipt they haue taken of a newe trade in teachyng, eche therin fo­lowyng his owne deuise. That wheras they put in to childerns heades, naught but mere trifles, and fonde rules of theyr owne, yet (Lorde) what Palaemon, or what Donate will not they dispise, in regarde of them selues. But (thanked be God) they fynde the mea­nes yet, by what crafte I can not tell, to make the foo­lisshe mothers, and ignoraunt fathers beleue, that they are suche in deede, as they hoste theim selues to be.

[Page]Adde also hereunto, this kynde of delite they haue, as often as any of theim chaunceth in some olde boke to fynde out the name of Anchises mother, or some other Latine woorde not commenly vsed, as Bubsequa, Boui­nator, Manticulator, or diggeth vp some gobbet of an olde stone grauen with Romaine or greke letters some­what defaced, (Lorde) than what exultacion, what tri­umphes, what commendacions make they of it? as if they had wonne all Afrike, or taken the great citee of Babylon. What thynke you also, whan they sette vp and shew abrode theyr versis? versis (god knoweth) most balde, and foolisshe, but neuer the more faile thei of some as verie asses as they, who will hieghly com­mende the same: whiche putteth theim in suche a flusshe, as plainly they beleeue they haue recouered Virgiles owne vaine in poetrie. But this is the swee­test poincte of all, to see theim flatter, and praise eche o­ther, clawyng theim selues by courses. That and if (as is possible enough) it chanceth one of them to stum­ble at some woorde, and an other beyng more aduised than he to take hym with the maner, ( Oh Hercules) what Tragedies, what Disputacions, what Inuecti­ues are tossed than and retossed betwixe theim? Let neuer grammarian be my friende, if I lie ought herein. I know a certaine learned man, beyng bothe a Grecian, and a Latiniste, a Geometricien, a philosopher, and a phisicien, yea a kyngꝭ phisicion, now almost .lx. yeres old, who set­tyng all other thyngꝭ a parte, hath whole twentie ye­res togethers, gone about the makyng of a new Gram­mer: estemyng hym selfe right happie, if he maie yet liue so longe, as to sette a perfite rule and distinction [Page] betweene the eight partes of speche: whiche hitherto none of the Greke, nor Latine grammarians could ful­ly bringe to passe: As who saieth, it were deadly sinne, if one make a Coniunction a distinction perteinyng to the nature of Aduerbes. And for this cause, thoughe alreadie there be as many Grammers, as Grammer-teachers, naie m [...]e, for my friende Aldus alone hath more than fiue times set out a grāmer, yet ouerslippeth he no grammerboke, be it neuer so tedious, and barba­rously written, whiche he l [...]keth not ouer, and sercheth throughly, enuiyng any man that in this kynde shoulde goe one ace beyonde hym, as if he feared lest some other might take the glorie hereof from him, and so his twen­tie yeres labours shoulde be spent in vaine. Now whe­ther call you this a madnesse, or a Folie? For as to me it skilleth not, so ye confesse it to procede all of my good­nesse, that these poore wightꝭ, these Grammarians, and Scholemaisters, who els shulde be as wretched as wret­chednesse it selfe, wene yet they are mounted into suche a felicitee, as gladly they woulde not chaunge liues, nor estates, Poetes. no not with the riche kynges of Persia. Poe­tes are somewhat lesse beholding vnto me, notwithstan­dyng, euin by theyr profession they shew theim selues to be of my secte, a free kynde of men, that lyke peincters maie feigne what they list, whose studie tendeth naught els, than to fede fooles eares with mere trifles and foo­lisshe fables. And yet it is a wonderous thyng to see, how through fame therof, they wene to be made immor­tall, and Gods pe [...]es, promisyng others also like im­mortalitee therby. To this order more than to any o­ther, bothe Selfloue, and Adulacion are a [...]nexed fa­miliarly, [Page] and of no kynde of men am I obserued more plainly, nor more constantly. Moreouer Oratours, and Rhetoriciens, Rhetorici­ens. notwithstandyng that a littel they seeme to swarue from me, cleuyng to the philosophers, yet I can proue theim also to be of my faction, as well by other argumentes, as by this, that in the preceptes of theyr arte, amonges diuers other trifles, they haue written so largely and exactly, how to prouoke laughter in an audience, and of the cast, or meanes of scoffyng: So far­furth as he what so euer he was, that wrote the boke of Rhetorike to Herennius, maketh folie also to be a mem­bre and parcell of Rhetorike. And Quintilian, the verie headman of this ordre, in his boke of the institucion of an Oratour, hath made one chapitre all of laughterster­ryng, lenger I wene than is Homers Iliade. yea, so muche dooe Rhetoriciens attribute to foolisshenesse, as oftentymes what obiection by no argumentꝭ maie be re­felled, the same yet with some laughyng and scoffyng conceitꝭ, thei wolde haue shifted of. Unlesse perchance, ye will saie, that folie hath naught to doe therin, whan with suche tauntꝭ and meritourned aunswers, they pro­uoke men to laughter, yea and that by rules and prece­ptes geuin therof for the nones. Of this grape are suche also as in makyng and publisshyng of new bo­kes, Compi [...]ers of new bo­kes. doe fisshe for a praise and glorie. These men as generally they are muche bounden vnto me, so in espe­ciall are suche of theim, as dooe blotte theyr papers with merest trifles. For as for those that take vpon theim to write cunnyngly to the iudgement of a fewe, and care not what learned men loke vpon theyr doyngꝭ, theim take I to be rather miserable, than blisfull, se­yng [Page] how continually thei are faine to writhe their wit­tes in and out, in puttyng to, in chaungyng, in blottyng out, in laiyng theyr woorke aside, in oueruewyng it a­gaine, in shewyng it to some for a prouffe, and yet ke­pyng it in theyr handꝭ whole nyne yeres togethers, so that they are neuer satisfied with theim selues, whiles they goe about to purchase so vaine a rewarde as praise is, yea and that geuin theim by a few, onely so dearely bought with many nightꝭ labors, and losse of slepe, the sweetest thyng that can be, and with so many trauai­les, and beatyng of theyr braines about it: besides the hurt thei susteine in their bodies, decaie of beautie, mar­ryng of theyr eiesight, or also blindnesse, together with pouertee, enuie, forbearyng of pleasures, vntimely age, hasted death, and suche like disaduantages, whiche na­theles these wisemen sticke not at, so they maie haue theyr writyngꝭ allowed at one or two of these blereied bokewormes handꝭ. But my Scribes on the other side, haue not a little more commoditee and pleasure of their folie. Wheras takyng no great leysure in pennyng of theyr mattier, naie rather what so euer toie lighteth in their head, or falleth in their thought, be it but theyr dreame, they doe put the same straight in writyng, with small dispence or none, sauyng waste of paper? know­yng (I warrant you) what will come of it, that the fon­der the trifles be, whiche thei entreate of, the more com­mendacion shall thei gette of most men, fooles as thei & vnlearned. And what maistrie is it for them to set light store by two or three of those learned mens repriues, if so be yet they rede theyr woorkes? Or what auai­leth theim, so few wysemens allowaunce? where so [Page] great a multitude of fooles on the other syde will dis­alow it. That in case thei haue the feate to set furth other mens doyngꝭ for theyr owne, and can be conten­ted to beare the name of that, whiche others toke the peines about, marie sir than I thynke they haue good skille: for though it chaunce theim at laste to be taken with the maner, yet for a season thei maie kepe theyr re­putacion. And it is a pleasure to marke how muche these men esteeme theim selues, whan they are praised so of the people, and whan they are poincted out in a great company, as, this is the wonderous felow ye here of: and whan in euery bokebynders shoppe theyr woorkes are set to the sale, and whan they rede theyr names, sur­names, and bynames, set in the fyrst fruntꝭ of euery boke, whiche titles also they dooe counterfeicte, and tourne into some contrarie language, as strange as maie be de­uised. Yet, I praie you, whan all is dooen, what be they els but names? and how few shall know those na­mes, hauyng regard to the worldꝭ wydenesse? and how many lesse commende theim? namely suche diuersitee beyng in iudgementꝭ: yea amongꝭ vnlearned men al­so? But what saie you to this, that not feeldome they feigne those names, or borow theim out of olde A [...]tours? for one of theim ioyeth to be named Telema­chus, an other Stelenus, or Laertes, he Polycrates, he Thrasymachus, and suche lyke. So that now it skil­leth not how they entitle theyr bookes, for by as good reason myght they call it a goorde, or a radisshe roote, or name it A, or B, as philosophers dooe by theyrs. But this is the best sporte of all, to see theim present eche others with epistles, with verses, and with mattiers of praise, [Page] sent from fooles, to fooles: and from asses, to asses. Here, he in his iudgement is as good a Poete as Al­caeus was, and hym doeth he likewyse compare to Cal­limachus. The one is holden for more eloquent than Tullius Cicero: that other, for better learned than Pla­to. Yea and not seeldome leuyng this fayre plaie, thei fall to foule, The foo­lisshe con­tencion a­monges lerned me. in sekyng theim out some aduersaries, to the ende that in contendyng togethers, theyr fame maie be the wyder blowne abrode. In the meane tyme, one learned man taketh his parte, an other taketh his, [...]ill at last bothe the Capitaines hauyng buckled man­fully togethers, wolde be taken for Victours, and both partꝭ pretende to Triumph therfore. These thynges of wysemen are counted to be mere folies, as in deede thei are, who can denie it? But yet there while through my benefire they lede a pleasaunt and glorious life, as not willyng to chaunge theyr Triumphes, skarcely (I beleue) with those of the Scipions. How be it, su­che as are learned in deede, are not a little also behol­dyng vnto me, whiles with great pleasure they maie laugh at the other, and take fruicion of their madnesse, whiche they can not againe saie, vnlesse they be to vn­kinde, and the veriest chorles of all. Next these now, Lawiers of Ciuile and canon. Ciuilians, and Canonistes chalenge no meane place a­mongꝭ learned men. And who than they stande depe­lier in Selflikyng? For whiles continually thei turne, and retourne Sisyphus stone in rehersyng vp an hun­dred lawes and Paragraphes all with a breath, it skil­leth not howe littell to purpose, and whiles they adde glose vpon glose, and opinions vpon opinions, they make as though theyr law science were most hard, and [Page] difficult to be atteined to. So what so euer is hardly dooen, that they recken straight to be moste excellent.

And ioigne we (hardily) to theim these Sophistrers and Logiciens, Logiciens. beyng a race of men more kackeling than a me­ny of dawes: eche of whom in bablyng maie compare with tenne women chosen for the nones, and farre more happie shoulde be, in case they were onely bablers, and not skoldꝭ also: in sorte that oftentymes for the moone shyne in the water, they striue whole daies together, and with to muche arguyng, lette the trueth of the mattier slippe by theim. Natheles through Selflikyng they are bathed all in felicitee, so that armed onely with three Syllogismes, they dare boldly prouoke any man, as well assured that thei wil neuer geue ouer, though Sten­tor hym selfe were matched against theim. Nexte theim come these Philoso­phers, Philoso­phers. venerable for theyr longe beardꝭ, and clokes downe to the feete, protestyng theim selues onely to haue knowlage and wysedome, wheras other men stande for no more than Ciphres in Algorisme. But (lorde) how sweetely doe they raue in theyr owne opinion: whan constauntly they affirme there be worldꝭ innumerable? Or whan they take vpon theim to measure the sonne, the moone, the plane­tes and theyr compasses, as it were by ynchemeale, or drawne with a line: Or whan they expounde the causes of thunder, of wyndes, of eclipses, and suche other in­explicable thyngꝭ, nothyng doubtyng, as if they had crepte into natures bosome, or were of counsaile with the Goddꝭ. And yet dooeth nature lowdely laughe theim to scorne, with all theyr coniectures: coniectures I saie, and no certaine knowlage, whiche appereth by [Page] this, that one secte of theim agreeth not with an other, but rather contendeth togethers vpon euery little thing. And yet these men, who in deede know nothing, wil take vpon them to know all thyng. Yea wheras they know not theim selues, nor see not oftentymes a pitte, or a stone liyng in theyr waie, either for poreblyndnesse, or because theyr witte is not at home, yet make thei theyr auaunt to see and perceiue plainely theyr Idees, theyr vniuersals, formes separate, fyrst mattiers, quidditees, and Ec­ceites, thynges so subtile, and so fine, as not Lynceus hym selfe could espie theim out, though it be saied how he could see through a stone walle. But than chiefe­ly doe these Philosophers disdeigne other vulgar peo­ple, as often as with triquetre, and tetragon circles, or with suche lyke Mathematical figures, drawne one vpon an other, and entangled in maner of a mase, with letters also set as it were in order of battaile, and with liues drawne hither and thither, they dooe cast a miste before simple folkꝭ eies. Astrono­mers. And suche there want not also of this kynde of men, that take vpon theim by lo­kyng on the sterres, and planetes, to tell vs aforehand, what shall happen and betide a hundred yeres after.

Declaryng by theyr Prognosticacions, the successe of certeine wonderous accidentꝭ, straunger than any wy­che crafte, or artmagike. yet suche is their happe, to fynde out men, who of theyr singular grosnesse geue credence also to this their so plaine illusion. Now hauyng reached thus farre, and comen to the place of doctours of diuinitee, I stande in doubt whether I maie speake of theim, Doctours of diuinite [...] or rather passe theim ouer, and not [...]urre at all theyr pacience, beyng a neste of men so [Page] crabbed and waspelyke, lest els perchaunce thei shulde all at ones fall vpon me with sixe hundred conclusions, driuyng me to rec [...]; that in case I refused so to doe, than wolde they by and by denounce me for an heretike. For that is the thunderbolt, wherwithall they threten suche, as stande not best in theyr fauour. But surely although none other sorte of men dooe with lesse good will than these, acknowlage my goodnesse vnto theim: Yet can I proue these Doctours also to be more than one or two waies in my daunger, beyng so propped vp with theyr owne Arrogance and Selflikyng, as if thei dwelled amongꝭ the sterres, or loked downe from aloft, and in a maner toke compassion vppon other seely men lyke wourmes crepyng by the grounde. Namely whiles thei are hedged in on all sides, with suche a gard of Magistral diffinicions, conclusions, corollaries, ex­plicite and implicite proposicions, with so many star­tyng holes, as not Vulcanes nettꝭ were hable so fastly to holde theim, but they wolde wynde theim selues out againe with Distinctions, wherwith thei carue al knot­tes asunder, as smothely as a rasour dooeth the heares of a mans beard. Suche a noumbre of newfounde monstrous termes haue they thicke and threefolde in­uented. Also whiles thei expounde the secrettꝭ of scri­pture at theyr pleasure, disputyng how the worlde was fyrst create, and proporcioned, by what chanels sinne was de­riued into Adams posteritee, The foo­lisshe que­stions or [...]hole do­ctours. what waies, by what measure, and in how short space Christ was complete in the wombe of Marie the virgin: And how in the sacrament of the altare, the acci­dentes of breade and wyne, remaine whan the substance is goen: but these questions are for euerie young beginner. O­ther [Page] haue thei more mete for great and illuminate doctours, whiche if at any tyme in disputacions or talkyng after diner they doe stumble vpon, straight thei shake of theyr slepie noddyng, and doe rowse theim selfꝭ. As, whe­ther any instant was in the generacion of god the secounde per­son? whether in Christ there be more filiacions than one? whe­ther this proposicion be possible? God the father, hateth the sonne, or whether Christ might possiblie haue taken to hym the likenesse of a woman, of a feende, of an asse, or of a goorde? Or how that goorde shoulde haue preached, doen miracles, or been [...]anged on the crosse? Or what shoulde Peter haue consecrated, if he had consecrated what time Christes body hunge on the crosse? Or whether Christ beyng transformed so into a goorde, might at the same tyme be called man also? Or whether after the resurre­ction it be leefull for men to eate or drinke? as who saith, pro­uidyng for hungre and thurst afore hand. Innumera­ble suche fine toyes haue they, muche more subtile than these, of Instantes, formalitees, quidditees and Ecceitees, whi­che no man I beleue could espie out, vnlesse he were so clere eied, as to see out in a deepe depe darkenesse those thingꝭ that be no where. I maie adde also here to their sentences or sawes, whiche are so estraunge and beyonde all expectacion, as the verie Stoikes sentences called Paradoxes, beyng compared to theyrs, seme grosse, and more than vulgar. (For exemple) Lesse sinne is it, (saie they) to slea a thousande men, than ones on a sondaie to clowte a poore mans shoe. Or rather shoulde we let all the worlde goe to wreke bothe with dogge and catte (as thei saie) than ones to make a lesyng, be the mattier neuer so lyght. Now againe, these theyr subtile subtilties, doe [...] make yet more sub­tile, through so many sortes of Scholemen as thei haue. [Page] So that easier you shall finde it to wind out of a mase, then out of their intricate names of Reales, Nominales, Thomistes, Albertistes, Occanistes and Dunsmen, The sectes of schole doctours. yet these be not all, but the principal onely. But turne you to whiche sect of thē ye will, and ye shall proue the same to be so cunnyng, so difficult, and so full of hiegh Mi­steries, as I wene the apostles theim selues had nede to be enstructed by a new sprite, in case vpon these matters they were compelled to argue with this new kynde of doctours. Paule coulde expresse what faieth was: yet whan he saied thus, faieth is the substance of thynges to be hoped after, and an euidence of thynges not yet appearyng. This Diffinicion (saie they) was not Magistraliter (idest) doctour like sette foorth by hym. And, as Paule coulde verie well teache what was Charitee, so did he not yet (saie thei) halfe lyke a Logicien either diffine, or de­uide the same, in the fyrst epistle, and .xiii. chapitte to the Corinthiens. The apostles likewyse did holily and deuoutly enough consecrate the sacrament of Chri­stes bodie: and yet, who so had apposed them in termi­nus à quo, and t [...]rminus ad quem, or in transubstancia­cion, or by what meanes the selfe same body of God may be in di­uers places at ones? or of the difference thei put nowe betweene Christes bodie as it is [...] heauen, as it was on the crosse, and in the sacrament of the altare: Or at what instant the transubstancia­cion is made, seyng the praier, by vertue wherof it is made, is e­uer passyng ouer as it is on saiyng? These quaynt questions (wene I) the apostles woulde neuer haue soluted with lyke quickenesse of engin, as our Dunsmen do [...]e bothe argue, and diffine [...] the same. The apostles knew the virgin mother of Iesus [...] but whiche of them [Page] did euer expounde so clerkly, how she was preserued from Originall sinne, as our doctours doe? Peter re­ceiued heauen keies: yea receiued theim at his handes (saie they) that woulde neuer haue committed the same to one vn­woorthie theim. Now whether he knew so muche or no, I can not tell: but this I am sure of, that he neuer touched this narow poinct, how it cometh to passe, that he also maie haue the keie of science, who hath no science at all. The apostles Baptized euery where, and yet thei neuer taught what is the formal, material, efficient, or finall cause of Baptisme: nor euer made mencion of the cha­racter delible and indelible. The apostles praied, but praied in the sprite, folowyng that saiyng of the gos­pell, God is a sprite, and who so woorship hym, must worship all in the sprite, and in tr [...]uthe. But now it appeareth, that it was not than reueled vnto theim, how we ought with all one praier, and lyke reuerence, woorship an Image drawne perhaps with a cole on the wall, as if the same were Christ hym selfe. So it be made with .ii. blissing fyngers of the right hand streched out, and a ball in the other, with longe heare sheded and a coronet in maner of a platter vpon his noddle, decked with thre sonnebea­mes. For who is he so pregnant witted, that might e­uer grope out these misteries, vnles he had spent whole xxxvi. yeeres togethers in studiyng the Physicals and Vltramundans of Duns, and Aristotle? The apo­stles also preached grace vnto the people: but yet they neuer made so narow distinction betwene gratia gratis data, and gratia gratificans. They exhorted men to good woorkꝭ, yet neuer put difference betwene opus o­perans, and opus operatum. Thei bydde vs in many [Page] places kepe charitee: but neuer deuide the same into Charitas infusa, and Charitas operata, nor expeund not whether it be an accident, or a substance, a create, or an vncreate thyng. Thei dishort vs from sinne, but I renie my selfe, if euer they coulde cunningly di [...]fine, what that shoulde be, we call sinne? Unlesse thei were inspyred with the sprite of these Duns doctours. For I can neuer beleue, that Paule, vpon whose writyng we maie gesse what mynde the other apostles had therin, woulde euer so often haue reproued and condempned, such questions, disputacions, genealogies, and conflictꝭ of woordꝭ (as he calleth theim) in case him selfe had euer been instructed in theyr fine quidditees. Namely in as muche as all the contencions, and debates in ar­guyng, whiche chaunced in his tyme, were but blunte, and verie grosse, in comparison of these twise syfted subtiltees, that our Maister doctours vse now a daies. How be it they can so muche theyr good, that where in any place they finde ought written by the apostles not formally, and Magistraliter, that they reproue not, but handsomely rather dooe interpretate it as best serueth for theyr purpose: bearyng (as who saieth) thus muche reuerence partly to the antiquitee, aud partly to the name of apostleship. And surely it were to muche to requyre so hiegh mattiers at the apostles handes, who neuer heard one worde therof mencioned by theyr mai­ster Christ. But in case they take either Chryso­stome, Basile, or Hierome with the lyke trippe, tha [...] they take it sufficient for theim to subscribe, that they allow it not. And yet those ancient good fathers, ra­ther through theyr holie life and miracles, than by any [Page] argumentes and Syllogismes, confuted bothe Etheni­kes, and Philosophers, and Iewes, beyng bent of na­ture to stubbournesse, yea and those also, neuer a one of whom were able to compasse and vnderstande the lest quodlibet of Duns. But now, haue ye any painem, or beretike, that will not geue place and yelde straight to so many fine fine argumentꝭ of our maister doctors? Unlesse he were so grosse, that he wiste not what they ment? or so shamelesse to hisse at theim? or rather fen­sed with lyke armour? so that now they were matches, as if ye shulde set one enchaunter against an other, or an Olyuer for a Roland. For than the battaile were euer new to be­ginue. And surely in my iudgement christen princes shoulde doe politikely, in stede of these bendes of grosse Lausknightꝭ, who not seeldome (prouffe sheweth) dooe speede as well euill as better, to arme, and sende foorth all these baulyng Dunsmen, and stubbourne Occani­stes, and inuincible Albertistes, together with the whole tablement of Sophistrers, against the Turkes and Sa­rasius. They shoulde see (I thynke verily) a strange kynde of skyrmisshe, with suche a victorie as neuer was heard of. For who is he so colde herted, that would not straight be enflamed with theyr pregnant deuises? Or who is he so blunt, and restiue, that could not with theyr pickant spurres be quickened? Or who so clere sighted, that maie not with suche darke mistes as they cast, be blynded? But all this perchaunce ye wene I speake halfe in mocage. And truely no meruaile.

Seeyng euin amongꝭ these Diuines ye shall fynde out some suche, as beyng institute in a better trade of lear­nyng, dooe lothe, and abhorre suche riddles and So­phistical [Page] trifles of these Dunsmen. Some other a­gaine that dooe curse and detest the same, as a kinde of Sacrilege, estemyng it plaine wickednesse and impie­tee, to speake so vnreuerently by so hiegh secretes of Scripture, whiche rather we shoulde haue in veneraci­on, than after suche rate goe about to expounde theim, or with so prophane Ethnical problemes to dispute v­pon theim, or arrogantly diffine theim, defilyng and bespottyng the maiestee of holy scripture with so cold, naie rather filthie woordꝭ and sentences. But this notwithstandyng, the other coddes heddꝭ in the meane while stande moste pleasauntly in theyr owne grace, or verilier stroke theim selues on the head. So that oc­cupiyng them selues bothe nightꝭ and daies, about these foolisshe toyes, they haue neuer thus muche leisure, ones to reade ouer the gospell, or Paules epistles: and yet in triflyng out the tyme thus in theyr scholes, they beleue verily it is they, that proppe vppe holy churche, whiche els shoulde goe to ruine, none otherwise with their Syllogismes, than poetes feigne that Atlas the geaunt susteigneth heauen vpon his shoulders. But now, how lordly is their felicitee (trow ye) whiles thei take vpon theim to forme and refourme holy scripture at their pleasure, as if it were a nose of waxe, or a Wel­shemans hose? and whiles they woulde their conclusi­ons, wherunto a certaine of some vniuersitee haue sub­scribed, shoulde be holden for more than estatutes, yea more fyrme and inuiolable, than the bishop of Romes Decretals? And whiles also like iudges ouer the whole worlde, they call eche thyng to recantacion, that one heare bredth disagreeth from theyr explicite, and im­plicite [Page] conclusions: Pronouncyng as if it came from a prophetes mouthe, how this proposicion is sklaunderous, this not reuerent, this smelleth of the fagote, this soundeth naught.

So that now a daies, not Bapti [...]me, nor the gospell, nor Paule, ne Peter, nor Hierome, ne Augustine, nor yet Thomas of Alquyne, who is euin Aristotles heyre and one hand, are able to make a man christian, vnlesse these father bachelars of diuinitee, dooe vouchesaue to subscribe vnto the same. So narow and profounde iudgement haue thei, in discussyng of all maner doubtꝭ. For who woulde euer haue thought hym to be of no ca­tholyke bel [...]efe, that affyrmed these two saiyngꝭ, ma­tula putes, and matula [...]ute [...]: also ollae feruere, and ol­lam feruere, to be bothe congruent, vnlesse these wise­men had taught vs the contrarie? Or who els might euer haue ridde the churche from so great darkenesse of errours, whiche no man I thinke wold euer haue redde, or loked on, vnlesse they vnder the great seales of their vniuersitees, had in condemnyng discouered theim?

But are they not most blisfull (trow ye) whiles they busie theim selues hereabout? and moreouer whiles they descriue and peinete vnto vs all thynges dooen in hell, so exactly as if many yeres they had seiourned in the diuels court? Or whiles as liketh theim they doe builde new heauens, addyng also one heauen set aboue all the other, most fayre and rowmie, least els perchance sainctꝭ soules shoulde haue no elbowroome to walke, or bankette, or plaie at tenes also if theim listed. With these, and with two thousande suche other trifles, are theyr headꝭ so stuffed, and swolne vppe, as not Iupiters head (trow I) was euer so pestred, what tyme be bo­rowed [Page] Vu [...]canes axe to hewe Pallas out of his braine. And therfore haue ye no meruaile at all, though at their Actes and Comencementꝭ ye dooe see theim swadled in with so many cappes, The solēne weade of schole do­ctours. coyu [...]s, and furde hodes as they weare, for els I thinke plainely theyr headꝭ wolde riue asunder. One thyng, I my selfe am wonte to laugh at, so often as I here theim speake theyr barba­rous brasse latine, wherin natheles they wolde be com­pted most doctourlike. That whan they fumble it out in suche a sort, as none but fumblers as thei, may vnder­stande theim, yet dooe they call it a certaine grace and finesse, whiche euerie body can not attaine vnto. For (saie they) it is not for the dignitee of holie writte, our profession, that we shoulde be compelled to folow any grammer rules: whiche surely (so beyng) is a great maiestee of these Duns doctours, if to theim onely it be lawfull to speake false latine. notwithstanding that many coblers and clowters can doe that as well as thei. Lastly now, they take theim selues in a maner for Gods peres, whan they are saluted solemnely by the name of maister doctours, or Magister noster: wherin thei wene lyke misterie to be included, as the Iewes saie there is in [...]: and therfore they affyrme it to be a muche great offence, if one doe write, MAGISTER NOSTER otherwyse than with great letters, that and if ye tourne the woordꝭ, saiyng noster Magister, in steede of Magister noster, than all at ones ye disorder the maiestee of the Theological name. Now next vnto the felicitee of these maister doctours, suche dooe aproche as people calle Religious men, Religious men. and Monkes, that is to saie, solitarie liuers, but by bothe names euill [Page] applied: seyng the greatest part of them are most farre from religion, and none so commenly shall you mete ro­uyng abrode, euin in euery a [...]ehouse. Whose trade and obseruaunce surely were most miserable and abiect, vn­lesse that I did many waies releue them. For though this kynde of men be commenly so abhorred, as euin to mete with theim at vnwares, or next a bodies risyng, it is taken for a signe of euill lucke all the daie after: yet (lorde) how they make theim selues to be more than Cherubyns. For fyrst they hold it a great holinesse, to medle so little with bookes, and learnyng, as scarce they know how to read theyr owne names. And whan they rore foorth (lyke a meny of asses) in theyr mona­steries, a noumbre of psalmes not vnderstanded, than they wene verily to fede sainctes eares with a meruai­lous melodie. Moreouer, some orders of them (name­ly Friers) dooe take a pride in theyr beggerie in goyng from dore to dore to a [...]e theyr breade with a great low­yng voyce, pestryng men euery where, bothe in innes, in wagens, and in passengers, not a little (I promise you) to the hyndrance of other begsters. And thus (loe) the blinde minious, what with theyr gresinesse, doltisshe­nesse, rudenesse, and shamelesse hangyng on men, dooe represent vnto vs (as theim selues saie) the life of the apostles. But is it not a comelinesse (trow ye) whan they dooe all thynges by certaine presidentꝭ of theyr orders, muche ly [...]e Mathematicall rules, whiche in no wyse without offence, they maie alter, or swerue fro.

As for example, how many wyndowes they muste make to theyr shooes? what colour, and noumbre of knottes goeth to their gurdelles? with what difference, and wherof must their wedes be [Page] made? of what breadth their lether thounges? how many bus­shelfuls their couses? how many ynches longe, their notted heare? and how many houres for slepyng? Now who is he that se­eth not how vnequall this equalitee of theyrs is, name­ly in suche a diuersnesse of bodies, and disposicions?

Yet vnder confidence of these trifles, they not onely set laie men as light as butterflies, but euin amongꝭ theim selues despise eche other. So that for all the aposto­lyke charitee, whiche thei professe, ye shall not see them sticke to fall together by the eares, either for a gurdell of a contrary facion, or a garment somewhat of a brow­ner or lighter colour. Yea, some of theim beyng of a straighter rule, are so sore punisshers of theyr flesshe, as outwardly they weare naught but sacke clothe, and inwardly no better than fine holland. Some others againe dare as soone touche poyson as money, neuer the more forbearyng from wyne, nor contrectacion of women. Finally all theyr delite is to accorde in no­poinct as touchyng the rules of theyr religions. Nor they loke not how to resemble Christe, but sooner how amongꝭ theim selues to be dissemblable: estemyng fur­ther a great parte of theyr felicitee to consiste in the na­mes of theyr orders. For some of them reioise to be cal­led grey friers, some white, these Colletes, thei Mi­nors, other Obseruauntꝭ, other Crossed, some Bene­dictines, some Bernardines, these Carmelites, those Augustines, these Guilhelmites, those Iacobites. &c.

As who saieth it were to sklender a name for theim to be called bare Christians. Now againe moste part of theim are so geuin to their ceremonies, and tradicions of men, as maketh theim wene, that one heauen is not [Page] a condigne, and sufficient rewarde for so great merites of theyrs, little remembring that Christe nothyng re­gardyng theyr supersticions, will onely call to accompt how they haue obserued his precept of charitee. Here one of theim (maie chance) will for his discharge shew foorth a trowgh stuffed full of all kynde of fisshe. An other, will poure foorth an hundred quarters of psalmes. An other, will noumbre vp millions of fastynges, castyng God in the tethe, that so often with eatyng but one meale a daie, his belie was nere burst. An other, will bringe foorth whole packes of ceremo­nies, so many as scarce might be freyghted in .vij. great bulkes. An other, will make his auaunt, that whole .lx. yeeres toge­thers he neuer touched money, but (at least) his handes were fen­sed with two paire of gloues. An other, will shewe foorth his cowle, or scapularie so sweatie, and full of grese, as no mari­ner would gladly put it on. An other, will saie that sins time of his nouiceship be neuer passed the [...]andes of his cloyster, mu­che like a sponge cleuyng euer to one place. An other, that he is hoarce with daiely singyng. An other, how through to muche solitarinesse, he is fallen into a benummednesse. An o­ther, how his tounge throughe continuall silence hath loste his vse. But Christ iuterruptyng theyr Selfebostes, whi­che els woulde neuer take ende, whence cometh (will he saie) this new race of Iewes, I dooe acknowlage but one lawe and rule for myne, wherof I here neuer a woorde spoken. For whilom plainly, and by no shadow of parables, I promised my fathers kyngdome not to Cowles, nor Rosaries, not set fastyngꝭ, but rather to the woorkes of charitee: not I know none suche, as to muche know their owne good woorkes. These men woulde be coumpted holier than my selfe: let them dwell therfore if thei list in Pasquilles heauen. Or dooe they cause those to prepare [Page] a new heauen for theim, whose tradicions thei haue preferred be­fore my preceptes. Now whan they here Christe saie thus, and see bothe carters, and ploughmen, preferred before theim, with what countenance (suppose ye) will one of theim beholde an other? Natheles in the meane tyme they are happie in theyr owne hope, not without my helpe largely employed on theim. Specially se­yng for all they are dead (as they saie) to this worlde, no man dare yet contemne theim, and lest of all fr [...]ers, in as muche as they are maisters of mens secretes by vertue of that thei call confession: whiche secretꝭ thei coumpt it great sinne to discouer, vnlesse at some tymes hauyng tasted a little of the ale, thei thynke good to re­create theim selues with sportyng tales a crasshe, one­ly by coniectures and lykelihoodꝭ to poincte you to the thyng, suppressyng yet mens names of theyr modestie. That and if any man sterreth vp these hornettꝭ, than in sermons to the people haue they a readie waie to wreke theyr tene, by touchyng theyr ennemies not directly, but in parables, so closely I warrant you, as no man could not perceiue theim, but if he perceiued nothyng at all. And neuer will they make an ende of barkyng till some fatte morsell be cast them, to stoppe their mouthꝭ. But who in the meane while wolde not gladlier behold one of these frier preachers how they counterfeicte the Rhetoriciens in their sermons (lowsely god knoweth) but yet fetely folowyng those rules that Oratours leue written of the Arte of pronouncyng, than any stage plaier, or Italian pardoner? Good lorde, what straunge ie­stures they frame? how they singe theyr woordꝭ? how they caste theyr armes hither and thither? how they [Page] chaunge the copie of their conntenaunces? how they mingle all thyngꝭ with outcries? whiche theyr saied arte in preachyng, conueied by one frier to an other, as it were from hande to hand, for a muche priuey thyng, all be it vnleefull for me to know, yet I shall make you a gesse at it as nere as I can. Preachers In the beginnyng therefore of theyr sermons, they vse some Inuocacion, but that they borow of the Poetes. Than admitte theyr Theme reune on charitee, they fetche theyr pro­heme from Nilus the great riuer in Aegypt. Or en­tenyong to exprunde the misterie of the crosse, they be­ginne aptly with Beel the dragon of Babylon. Or dis­putyng of fastyng, they fetche theyr race from the .xii. signes of the Zodiake. Or purposyng to speake of faieth, they make a longe preamble how a circle in Geo­metrie maie be made quadrate. A madd [...] ta [...]e of a preacher. I my selfe heard ones a solemne lowre, (I crie you mercie) a solemne learned man I shoulde haue saied, who in his sermon, before a great assemblie, takyng vpon him to declare the mistery of the Trinitee, to the ende he myght bothe shew his learnyng to the people, and satisfie the eares of some doctours there present, toke a new fet [...]he in his mattier. For what from letters, to sillables, and to dictions, and than the concordes betwene the Nowne and the Verbe, the Nowne adiectiue and Substantiue (diuers of the audience now meruailyng, and saiyng to theim selues, what the diuell ayleth he) at last he brought it to this passe, that he shewed the figure of the whole trinitee to be so exactly described and expressed in the rules of grammer, as no geometricien myght plainlier draw it with his finger in the duste. Whiche sermon the saied doctourlike doctour [Page] whole eyght monthes together so ernestly had sweatte about, as vntill this daie he is as poreblinde as a be­tle. And no meruaile, seyng he drew vp all the sharpe­nesse of his eie sight, to the poinct of his engin: but for all that he nothyng forthinketh his blindnesse, rather takyng the same for to chepe a price of suche a glorie as he wanne therby. Lykewise, not longe agone I was present at the sermon of an other famous doctour, beyng almost .80. yeres old, and therto so doctourlike, as if Duns were new arisen in hym, who entendyng to disclose the misterie of the name of Iesu, with great sub­tiltee shewed, how euin in the verie letters was as muche pithe included, and might be gathered therof. For wheras it is declinable but in three cases, as Iesus, Iesum, Iesu, that (saied he) was a manifest representacion of the Trinitee. Than because the fyrst terminacion of Iesus endeth in S, the secounde in M, the thyrde in V, thereby laie a right secrete misterie, in as muche (quod he) as the verie letters dooe declare that Iesus, is Summus, Medi­us, and Vltimus, (that is) the fyrste, the middest, and the last. An other mistery he alleged farre more strange than these, diuidyng this woorde Iesus as it were by geometrie into two egall partꝭ, leuyng S, in maner of a stickler in the middle: whiche letter in the He­brews ABC, is W, and thei call it Syn. Now synne (quod he) in englisshe is as muche to saie as a deadly of­fence against God. so hereby it appeared, that Iesus was the stick­ler or mediatour, that toke on hym the synnes of this worlde.

This so strange and farre fetched a beginnyng, all men did gape at so, chiefely the doctours there present, as little lacked that they were not chaunged throughe a­stonnednesse [Page] into stones as poetes feigne by Niobes.

wheras I for my parte through laughter, had almoste let goe a skape, as Priapus did for feare of the .li. wit­ches Canidia, and Sagana, whan it chaunced hym to see their sorceries by night season: and who could haue blamed me if I hadde so dooen? For whan didde e­uer Demosthenes or Cicero, vse the lyke farre fetche in any of theyr oracions? Thei toke that Proheme to be faultie, whiche hunge not apliablie with the reste of theyr matter: as who saieth, there be any man so grosse that euin of nature is not instructed to dooe so muche.

But my doctours now adaies take their preamble (so they call it) to be most Rhetorical, whan it ioigneth lest with any other part of theyr Theme: whiche maketh the hearer, meruailyng at the estrangenesse of the deuise oftentymes to murtre to him selfe, now whither the diuell wilt thou. Thyrdly in stede of a narracion, they expounde somewhat of the gospell, but that very briefe­ly, and shortely passed ouer, wheras they ought to en­treate therof onely, all theyr sermon through. In the fourth place, fallyng as it were into a new mattier, thei moue some doctorall question, sometyme suche as toucheth neither heauen nor earth, whiche they take yet to serue muche to theyr purpose. And here (loe) they be­ginne to spreade theyr armes, in allegyng auctoritees out of solemne doctours, subtile doctours, most subtile doctours, seraphicall doctours, holy doctours, irrefragable doctours, and suche other goodly bigge names of theyr Schole pillers. And here thei spowte out theyr Syllogismes, theyr ma­iors, minors, and conclusion, theyr corollaries, and most balde supposicions, with suche other trifles be­fore [Page] the rude people, as if they were in theyr most ruffe disputyng Pro, et contra in theyr Scholes. Re­steth now the fifte Acte or parte, wherein it behoueth them to shew foorth all their cunnyng and profundi [...]ee. Here now (maie chaunce) they come foorth with some foolisshe tale taken out of Vitas patrum, or gesta Ro­manorum, moralisyng the same bothe Allegorically, Tropologically, and Anegogically. And thus muche after this rate dooe they knitte vp all theyr Chimera, or straunge shapen beast, with sundrier sortes of formes and facions, than euer Horace described it, in the be­giunyng of his boke De arte poetica. But they haue learned, I wotte neuer of whom, that the entrie and beginnyng of an oracion must be caulmely vttred without any lowde voyce, or exclamacion. So they therfore beginne theyr preambles so stilly, as scarce they can here theyr owne voices, perhaps because it a­uaileth theim to speake somewhat, that none shoulde vnderstande. They haue heard also how criyngꝭ out must sometymes be vsed to moue vppe mens affecti­ons: and therfore speakyng a pretie while all stilly, e­uin at a brunt they fall into a skrekyng keie, and fill mens eares with a criyng shrillenesse, where they haue least nede at all. Moreouer because they haue redde in Rhetorike bokes, that an Oracion shoulde some­what kindle, aud waxe hote in processe of argumentꝭ, They, in euery part of theyr Sermons, the entrie into the same beyng somewhat more demurely pronounced, by and by dooe fall into a wonderous lowde chafyng voyce, be the mattier they entreate of neuer so colde, aud leaue of so, as if theyr brethes failed theim. Last­ly [Page] hauyng vnderstode, that Rhetoriciens geue certaine preceptꝭ of laughter sterryng, they also peine theim sel­ues to enterlace theyr Sermons with some mery con­ceites: but (O the will of god) how full of grace be the same? and how aptly brought in theyr right places? as if an asse were set to plaie on a gyttarne. Sometymes also they fare as they woulde nippe folke with theyr quippies, but so f [...]inctly (god knoweth) as rather thei dooe ticle, than pynche depelier. But neuer dooe thei flatter more kyndly, than whan thei pretende to speake most frely, and without respecte. Finally all theyr cast in preachyng is suche, as a man wolde sweare thei had gone to schole with these Ceretans, suche as in I­talie are wont in markette places standyng on stalles, or where thei maie be seen best, to preache vnto the people in commendacion of some pardone, feigned medecines, or suche lyke toyes of theyr owne inuencion, to gette money withall, and bleare the simples eies. Whiche Ceretans natheles doe farre passe theim in theyr grace: All be it (to speake indifferently) the one of theim is so lyke the other, as none will doubt, but either they haue learned at those, or those at these againe. But what nede these my frier preachers to passe theron? seeyng through my procurement thei neuer misse of suche, as in hearyng theim, beleue verily they heare Demosthenes, and Cireros matches: Merchanꝰtes and women. of whiche opinion chiefely be merchauntꝭ, and good wiues, whose eares and likyng, friers dooe wholy studie to satisfie. For merchauntes in case they be handsomely glosed, are wonte to geue theim in Commendum some porcion of theyr misgot­ten goodꝭ, and women besides many other consideraci­ons [Page] are specially enclined to theim, for that they are wont to poure into theyr bosomes what euer euill will they beare in theyr hertes against theyr husbandꝭ.

Thus, ye consider (I trow) how muche this race of Religious men, is endebted vnto me, whan now with theyr Ceremonies and fonde fantesies of theyr owne, now with theyr baulyng and criyng out in pulpites, they dooe exercise a maner tyrannie amongꝭ men, and woulde be coumpted for more than Paules, or Antoni­es. But seeyng they be suche iuglers, as can no lesse vnkyndely dissemble, and seeme not to acknowlage my benefites employed on theim, than they are otherwise craftilie counterfetctours of holinesse, I holde it best to speake no more of theim. For I longe sore a little now to treate of kynges and princes liues, Kynges & Princis. who most plainely and gentilmanly, as gentilmen [...] dooe enter­teine me. Wheras if thei considred well what belon­geth to theyr estates, now I see not what life might be more carefull than theyrs, nor lesse to be desyred. For suche shall neuer thinke that a kyngdome shoulde either by vsurpacion, or any other wrongfull title be sought for, as dooe waie with theim selues, what a charge he susteigneth on his shoulders, that rightly will execute the office of a prince: who takyng vpon him the rule of thyngꝭ dooeth now administer not his owne, but rather the affaires of many, wherby he shulde thinke of naught els but the commen weale: obseruyng iustly the lawes, wherof he is bothe founder, and ouerseer, to the ende his vprightnesse, and integritee maie be a president to his vnderrulers and officers, whan either beyng iuste and vertuous, like a blisfull sterre of lucky aspecte he [Page] maie bringe bothe health and coumfort to all his subie­ctes, or otherwyse, lyke a pestilent Comete, be theyr ruine and destruction. In as muche as meaner mennes vices be not so muche marked, nor so largely diuu [...]ged. But a prince is set in that place, whereas if he wrie him selfe neuer so little from that becometh hym, straight waies the infection of the exemple crepeth contagious­ly to many men. Besydes that, how muche more the height of a princꝭ fortune maie be a meanes to peruert hym from the right trade, either through pleasure, li­bertee, adulacion, or delicatenesse, so muche the ware­lier shoulde he resist theim, watchyng diligently, lest at any tyme beyng seduced, he dooe swerue from his dui­tee. And lastly (omittyng treasons, hatredꝭ, and other perillꝭ or dreades, wherwith a prince is infested) if he remembre how the dome also of the heighest, and most rightfull kyng of all, hangeth ouer his head, who soone after will call hym to accoumpte for the least faulte he hath doen, yea and that the narowlier, the greater state he had committed to hym: These thyngꝭ (I saie) and many like hereto, if a prince do perpende wel, (and perpende theim he must nedes if he hath wisedome) I beleue surely he shoulde take his slepe and fode, with lesse gladnesse, than a farre meaner person dooeth.

But now, how many princꝭ haue you, whiche through my procurement, remittyng all care and charge hereof to the goddꝭ, dooe for the most parte onely tende theyr owne pleasure? So that admitte we feigne now the image of some one prince, suche as not seeldome hath been, a man (for exemple) vnskilled in the lawes, ene­mie in a maner to the commen weale, geuin onely to his [Page] peculier profite, addicted all to voluptuousnesse, an ha­ter of learnyng, an hater of libertee, and of the trueth, caryng nothyng lesse than for the aduauncement of his countrey, but rather appliyng all thyngꝭ to his owne pleas [...]s [...]e and commoditee. And now (on gods name) geue hym a chayne about his necke, The appa­raile of a prince. for token that all vertues woulde agreablie be euchayned in hym: geue hym also a crowne frette with perle and stone, in signe he ought to excelle others in all princely vertues: than a sceptre in his hand betokennyng iustice with an vpright mynde on all sydes: lastly a Robe of purpre, whiche si­gnifieth zeale and feruent affection towarde his subie­ctes: This maner apparaile (I saie) if that prince shulde duely conferre with his liuyng, I wene he wold be ashamed to weare it, fearyng lest some fine expositor myght tourne all his pompe and solemuesse of royall robes into a derision: namely whan he hath no maner part of a prince in hym, sauyng-onely the clothyng.

Now lykewyse what saie you to Courtiers? Courtiers. these mi­nion gaibeseen gentilmen, who beyng for the most part as fawnyng, as seruile, as witlesse, and as abiect as can be deuised, woulde be taken yet amongꝭ all men for the principall. But although theyr pride in other poynctꝭ excedeth, yet herein surely they shew a great modestee, whan beyng contented to haue theyr bodies outwardly garmsshed with golde, with gemmes, with silkes, and with other representacious of vertue and wysedome, they geue ouer the studie, and vse of the thyngꝭ selfe to other men, not caryng how they leaue theyr myndes naked, without any apparaile of disci­plines: reputyng theim selues moste happie, for that [Page] they haue learned the phrase of courte speche, at euery woorde to choppe in these goodly titles of honour, your noble grace, your royall hieghnesse, your excellent maiestee: and that theyr faces lyke visers will blusshe at no­thyng: and finally that in bourdyng, and in flyryng, thei can flatter pleasauntly. For these be the qua­litees they holde most mere for a kynde gentilman, and rufler of the courte. But nowe who so narowlier woulde approche, and enserche theyr trade of liuyng, shoulde fynde theim I warrant you, to be more blunte and vnwittie, than euer were the auncient people of Phoeacia, and thereto more dissolute than those wo­wers were that desyred Penelopes in mariage. Spon­si Penelopes, Sponsi Penelopes nebulones, Alemo [...]. ye know what foloweth in the verse, whi­che I had rather that Eccho (as she euer doeth the la­ter woordes) shoulde declare vnto you, than I.

These my hoglyngꝭ slepe euery daie till midnoone, and hauyng euin yet theyr eies full of slepe, thei sende than for some huntyng chapleine, who whiles thei are in ma­kyng ready, or rather risyug out of theyr beddꝭ, maie slynge theim vp a post masse. In the necke whereof commes theyr breakefast, and that scantly finisshed, go they to diner. After that to the dyse, to tables, to car­des, or to boules, nowe with iesters, nowe with fooles, now with courtisanes, daunces, and daliauncꝭ to tri­fle out the tyme, not without one, or two collacions a­fore supper, and after supper theyr bankettꝭ one vpon an other. And thus without felyng any tediousnesse of theyr life, thei passe easily ouer, bothe houres, daies, monthes, yeres, and whole ages. In sort that I my selfe am not seeldome throughe hauntyng with theim [Page] made the fatter, and gladly woulde neuer part compa­ny, sauyng that sometyme seyng how amonges the da­moysels and Madames of the court, they shew theim selues in theyr mastresses colours, and commenly dooe vaunt theim selues of that they haue not, or neuer did, I can not kepe my selfe from laughter. Moreouer se­yng how amongꝭ those Nymphes and Madames, eche reputeth hir selfe the more woorthie of honour and e­state, the longer taile she traineth after hir. Seeyng also how the gentilmen of the court dooe shoue one an other, aud prease for a shew of estimacion to be nexte theyr prince, as who saieth depeliest in his fauour. And seyng lastly how thei stande in theyr owne conceite, mu­che estemyng theim selues, as the more worthy a cappe and reuerence, the greatter chaynes thei haue, as if thei desyred not onely to shew their richesse in wearyng thē, but also theyr strength of shoulders in bearyng theim. But now (on goddꝭ halfe) lenger than of late daies, Pope holie fathers of Rome, Skarlet cardinals, and blessyng bishops, Cardinals [...] bishops. haue not onely folowed the steppes of princes, as touchyng theyr pompe and magnificence, but dooen also what they can to surpasse theim. Yet surelie if a bishop perpended with hym selfe, what is ment by the linen rochet so purely of white that he wea­reth? Mary that his liuyng likewise shoulde be nete, and cleane from any spotte of sinne: The appa­raile of a bishop. Or if he thought thus, that his mytre beyng deuided so into two hornes, eche typpe wherof is with the lyke knobbe gathered to­gether, were set for a figure of the perfect knowlage he ought to haue bothe in the olde and new Testament: Or if he wiste that the gloues on his handꝭ did signi­fie, [Page] how he ought as purely, and without any soyle of woordlinesse to administer the sacramentꝭ: Aud how his crossers staffe admonished him of the wakery charge he shoulde take ouer his flocke: And how his crosse borne before hym (be he an archebishop) pretended vi­ctorie ouer all woordlie affections: These figures (I saie) and many lyke hereto, in case a bishop did con­ster & conferre accordyngly, I beleue he could not chose but leade an heauie and carefull life: Yea but at these bais (I can tel you) thei take as little thought herefore, as all theyr thought is how they maie fayre fede theim selues, remittyng all care of theyr flocke vnto Christe, or rather resignyng the same to suche as they call their vicares, and Suffragans. In whiche case they remem­bre little theyr name. For Episcopus, is as muche to saie, as a superintendent or wacheman, who vus [...]ly ten­ded and toke hede to his charge and commission.

How be it (in dede) as touchyng fisshyng for money, and heapyng vp of treasour baggꝭ, they furnisshe fully that theyr names importeth, and therin shew theim sel­ues to be no blinde wachemen. Moreouer, if Cardinals likewise did consider (seyng thei chalenge to succede in the apostles places) how at theyr handꝭ also is requyred that sanctitee and perfection, that the apo­stles were of: And further, how they are no lordꝭ, but rather stewerdꝭ and administratours of spirituall giftes and graces, for the whiche soone after they must duely and exactly render accoumpte: The appa­raile of cardinals. Yea if they did but argue a whyle vnto theim selues vpon theyr gar­mentꝭ, and thinke thus: Pardie the whitenesse, and pure netenesse of this rochet I weare on, signifieth how [Page] I also shoulde leade a pure and ryght innocent life.

This cramoysen gow [...]e, whiche I haue vnderneth it, admonissheth me I shoulde be as feruently enflamed in the loue of god. This vtter robe also beyng so large and so longe trained, as suffiseth to ouerspred myne, the most reuerende fathers moyle, were she as lofty as any ca­mell, doeth it not pretende, that charitee shulde abouisd, and be so largely spreadde in me, as I shoulde offre my selfe to helpe and releue all men? be it in teachyng, ex­hortyng, coumfortyng, rebukyng, or aduerrisyng my e­uen Christen: or be it in appeasyng of watres betwene countreis, or resistyng of wicked princꝭ, yea or in spen­dyng of my bloudde for Christes sake, muche more my worldly goodꝭ with a gladde hert: How be it I see not by reason, what I shoulde dooe with worldly goodꝭ, I, that take vpon me wholy to imitate and represent the apostles, who like good soules went poorely aud bare­footed. These thyngꝭ (I saie) if Cardinals did con­sider aud take well to hert, they wolde not gape so gre­dily after that dignitee, naie willynglier woulde refuse it, or at lest, as did the Primitiue apostles, leade a tra­uailsome and carefull life, in attendyng to their offices. Moreouer if these thrise holy fathers, Bishops of Rome. Popes of Rome and Christes vicares (as they name theim selues) did as eruestly folow the exemple of Christes life, in enbra­cyng of pouertee, or peinefull teachyng of the people, or in bearyng of his crosse, and contempt of this world, or if they didde but thynke a while vppon the name of Pope, whiche they chalenge peculierly, and is as muche to saie, as father, or the title of most holy father, as thei [...]ie to be called: Now I see not what men in all the [Page] world shuld (by right) liue in greatter carefulnesse and affliction then thei. Nor I see not vpon what hope the rankest Symoniakes of them might recken, if thei reked hereon, that all theyr goodꝭ and facultees were to scant to deale in bribes to the Cardinals for their voices: or hauyng ones purchased that roume with theyr pennie, wolde than so manfully defende and kepe it, bothe with swoorde, with poyson, and with all other efforce.

Good lorde, howe many pleasures and commoditees shoulde wisedome at one plucke bereue theim, in case they did but ones loke hir in the face? Wisedome saied I? Naie if they had but one graine of that salt, wher­of Christ maketh mencion in the gospell, they woulde not hoorde vp so huge heapes of golde, so hiegh moun­taines of honours, so large dominions, so many marci­all victories, so many offices, so many dispensacions, so many reuenues, so many taxes, so many perdones, nor kepe such a numbre of pampred horses, and slicke shorne moyles, nor holde suche a courte and garde about them, with infinite other solacꝭ, to abound, or rather swimme in delices. Ye see (I trow) in these few woordꝭ, how great a fayre, and in maner a sea of pleasurꝭ and world­ly welthinesse I haue set afore you. In place wher­of is there any of you thinketh, Uertues apostolike. that Peters successours at these daies, wolde willyngly embrace fastyng, wat­chyng, teares in vehement praier, daiely preachyng, stu­diyng on the scripture, or sighyng at mens offences, with thousand other suche drerie troubles, whiche thei daiely shouldehtan be subiecte to? Or dooe you iudge peraduenture they coulde easily fynde in theyr hertes, that so many scriueners, so many registrers, so many [Page] notaries, The rable at Rome. so many aduocates, so many promoters, so many secretaries, so many moyleters, so many horseke­pers, so many gentilmen of housholde, so many apple­squyers, so many baudes, (I had almost spoken a sof­ter woorde, Sodomie. but I feare me it wolde haue sounded har­der to your eares) briefely so great a rablement of sun­drie men as doe waie downe (I crie you mercy) I ment, dooe waite on the See of Rome, shoulde haue cause to crie out on theim, whan with the tourne of an hande through theyr conuersion to a sobrer course of liuyng, those myght well enough be driuen to die for hunger? specially seyng aboue the rigour and extremitee of such an heynous acte, a farre more detestable inconuenience shoulde folow, whan therby the princꝭ selfe, and pillers of the churche, yea the verie Lampes (on gods name) whiche light the worlde, shoulde be called backe againe to a bagge and a staffe? wheras els thei haue founde out so good a shyfte, and conueighance, what euer labour or toyle belongeth to theyr offices, to cast it wholy on Pe­ter and Paules shoulders, who haue leysour enough to welde it, whiles they maie so good chepe reserue vnto theim selues all the pleasure and commoditees of the same? wherby it cometh to passe, and all through my drifte, that no kynde of men lyue more delicately, nor with lesse care than these holy fathers dooe. For as for Christ, he (thei thynke) maie easily enough be plea­sed, so long as thei shew them selues like popes in their Misticall Pontificalibus, bolstred vp with ceremoni­es, aud titles of blissednes, reuerendnes, and sanctitee, to blisse and curse whom thei liste: what for the rest, it is stale with theim, and out of vse at these daies to doe [Page] myracles: peynefull, to teache the people scholerlyke, to expounde scripture: to ydle a thyng, to praie: farre more milkesoplyke and womannisshe, to cast foorth tea­res: vile, to be nedie: dishonourable, to be ouercome: and most vnsittyng for theim who scantly will admitte kyngꝭ and emperours to the kyssyng of theyr feete:

Finally it is an vnsauoury thyng, to die: and as re­procheable, to be hanged on the crosse: So that refu­syng to stande to any of these harde condicions, thei rest onely vpon feates of armes, with also those sugred and doulcet benedictions of theirs, mencioned by Paule, with a thousande wherof I wene they woulde parte more liberally, than with one pennie: and sticke hardi­ly to theyr interdictions, suspencions, aggrauacions, redaggrauacions, anathemisacions, and peincted pictu­res set vp in churches, representyng suche as thei note for cursed, or heretikes, with also that theyr dredefull thunderbolt of excommunicacion, the dynt wherof at theyr onely becke is hable to dyng downe sely soules a thousande myles beyonde the depest dongeon in hell: whiche thunderbolt they leuell yet against no men so vehemently, as against those, who through the diuelles instinction dooe go about to croppe Peters patrimonie: Peters pa­trimonie, whiche (for all Peters owne woordes in the gospell, Lorde, we haue lefte all to folow the) they expounde to be landes, citees, taxes, customes, and dominions. For mainte­naunce wherof whiles kyndled with the feruent zeale of Christ, they fight bothe with sworde, and with fyre, than they wene they dooe gaily, and apostolically defende Christes espouse the churche, in rebuttyng and manfully (as they saie) forchasyng of hir enemies. As who [Page] saieth, there be any enemies more pernicious to Christꝭ churche, than wicked bishops theim selues? who suf­fre Christes name for lacke of theyr daiely remembring, to grow out of the peoples knowlage: & do binde Christ to certaine money lawes of theyr owne: and with wre­sted gloses and exposicions dooe bastard him: and last­ly through the abhominable president of theyr life doe eftesoones crucifie hym. In sort, that wheras Chri­stes churche was fyrst founded vpon the bloudde of him hir autour, and reised vp with the bloudde of the apo­stles, and enlarged with the bloud of so many martyrs: now, as though Christ were no Christ, or that he were not hable as before to conserue his chosen, they in hir defence dooe trie theyr quarels onely at the swoordes poincte. That wheras warre (to speake absolutely) is so cruell and despiteous a thyng, as rather it beco­meth wilde beastꝭ, than men, therto so furious and ra­geyug, as the verie Poetes doe feigne, that the Furies of hell dooe let is slippe: also so pestilent a thyng, as draweth for traine all frothe and corrupcion of maners after it: Further so vniust a thyng, as for the moste parte is best executed by the veriest theues and distres­sours that be: and lastly so vnchristian a thyng, as in no­thyng accordeth with Christe. Yet dooe these my Ro­myshe prelates, settyug all other thyngꝭ a syde, onely studie and employe their tyme on warre. In whiche exercise ye shall see some of theim beyng so olde and wasted, that theyr bones rattle in theyr skinnes, so liue­ly yet turmoylyng, and pronely bent therto, as if they were waxen younge againe: neyther sparyng for coste, nor weried through labours, ne any thyng grudged in [Page] mynde or agaste at it, though therby all lawes, religi­on, peace, and tranquillitee in humaine thyngꝭ be tour­ned topsetturuie. For woorke they neuer so vngodly, yet faile they not of some glosers learned men, who in hope of promocion, will name and expounde this theyr open madnesse to bee a Zeale, to be a Pietie, to bee a Spirituall manhode in them, bringyng it by a new found meanes to passe, that now a man maie thrust his swoord into his brothers bealy, obseruyng neuerthelesse that loue and perfite charitee, whiche Christe byddeth eche Christian to owe an other. And truely I am as yet in doubte, whether bishops in Almaine haue geuin, or rather taken exemple hereat: seyng that somewhat plainelier, and without any obseruaunce at all, vsed either in their wede, or blissyng, with suche lyke ceremonies as bi­shops woulde be knowen by, they dooe plainely shewe theim selues to be temporall princꝭ, in sort that in a ma­ner they coumpt it vilitee for theim to yelde theyr vali­aunt soules to God, any where els than in a foughten fielde. And now, dooe not syngle priestes Priestes, (trow ye) clinge as nere as they can to theyr prelates deuocion? for (loe) how warlyke bothe with swoordes, with sta­nes, and with stones, yea and by the teeth also the good vicares can striue for theyr tytherightꝭ? and how na­rowly loke thei to finde in olde writte or in doctours, a­ny sentence seruyng for theyr purpose, to geue terrour therby to theyr simple parissheners, yea and beare them downe, that thei ought to paie more than theyr tenthes limitted. But for all theyr diligence in that behalfe, they are as indiligent remembrers what is written in many places of scripture concernyng theyr duities, and [Page] what they on the other part ought to render and re [...]paie vnto the people. No not theyr shauen crownes at lest can warne theim, howe priestes muste be free from all worldlinesse, to passe on nothyng els, sauyng heauenly treasure. But sooner at these daies my Iolie sir Iohns doe take it for a sufficient furniture of their roomes, as longe as they mumble ouer theyr portes seruice, thei care not how rasshely, whiche (on my faith) I wonder what god heareth, or vnderstandeth? seeyng they theim sel­ues dooe almost neither heare, nor wote what they saie, whan onely with theyr lippes thei make a certaine bus­zyng, no whitte procedyng from the hert. How be it (to saie the trouthe) it is a commen tatche naturally geuin to all men as well as priestꝭ, to watche well for theyr owne lucre: for none is so vnskilfull, that in this poinct can not skanne the lawes to the vttermost. But in case there be any waight or charge thereon depen­dyng, that the clergie hath politikely learned to cast on others shoulders. For like as princes are wont to ordeine vnder theim many Deputies and officers, who likewyse dooe substitute Subdeputies in theyr steedes, so dooeth the Clergie of theyr goodnesse and singuler modestee, remitte all care of holinesse to the laie people, and laie folke charge suche therwith as thei call Eccle­siasticall or churchemen, as who saieth all maner Chri­stians had not to dooe with the churche, or as if thei pro­fessed no suche thyng by theyr fyrst vowe of Baptisme. Than againe priestꝭ that are named Seculers, as dedi­cate to the worlde and not to Christ, dooe laie all this burden on reguler priestꝭ, who likewyse tourne it ouer to Religious men, and religious men of an easier rule [Page] commende the same to those of a straighter rule. But all with one assent dooe can theyr charge on Friers nec­kes, who natheles finde a meanes yet to conueigh the same to monkes of the charterhouse, in whiche onely order, holinesse as in hir graue lyeth hydden, yea and so hyd­den, as scant at any tyme she can be seen. Likewise holy fathers of Rome in tendre consideracion of the daiely businesse, wherwith thei are occupied about their money haruest, are faine to put bishops in trust with all other too too Apostolike labours. But bishops disdeigne not through humilitee to let persones supplie theyr roo­mes: And persones like good felowes wolde theyr vi­cares shoulde haue the dooyng therof: Than vicares sticke not to suffre friers to encroche vpon theim: And they againe make resignement therof, to suche as daie­ly dooe shere the woulle of Christes poore flocke.

But (hola) it is best for me to stoppe here, seyng I toke not vpon me to boult out the maner of bishops and prie­stes liuynges now a daies: lest any man shoulde deme how I rather entended to ratle vp theyr vices, than to spredde myne owne praise, Folie exc [...] ­seth hir [...]el [...] that she speketh of the wicked & not of the good men. or lest ye myght mistake me, as if good and vertuous princꝭ were taunted of me, whi­les foolisshely accordyng to my custome I dooe com­ménde the wicked. Naie rather I haue touched thus muche, with few woordes, to the ende it maie appeare, how no mortall man can liue sweetely in ioie and plea­sure, vnlesse he be a brother of my fraternitee, and haue me to his friende and good ladie. For els, who is he dare loke for good happe, Fortune [...] ­lied wit [...] Folie. seeyng Fortune hir selfe, the guidresse of all worldly chaunces, is so muche bent on my syde, as euer for the moste parte she is heauie mai­stresse, [Page] and contrarions to these wysemen, wheras t [...] fooles on the other syde she dealeth hir giftes so large­ly, as if she crammed the same into theyr mouthes whi­les they are slepyng. Ye remembre (I trow) what is written of Timotheus that fortunate capitaine of the Atheniens, whose good happe and successe in thin­ges gaue fyrst place to this prouerbe, Slepe he neuer so fast, his nette catcheth for hym. (For ye shall vnderstande, that of his continual prosperous fortune peincters toke occasion to pourtray his image slepyng, and fortune in the meane whiles throwyng into his nettes bothe citees and dominions.) And lykewyse this other prouerbe, The howlate flieth (wherby was ment, that lyke as Pal­las, to whom the howlate is cousecrate, was wonte to geue good and happie successe to many of the Atheni­ens purposes vnaduisedly enterprised: So likewyse that armie, whiche had Timotheus ones for capitaine, was euer victorious, though tenne to one it shulde haue chaunced otherwyse. But these prouerbes on the o­ther side dooe make against wysemen, He was borne vn­der an vnluckie moone, or vppon a crosse daie: Or, he hath S [...]ians [...] horse (whiche horse as writers dooe affyrme, had for his beautie dyuers maisters successiuely, who all at last had euill end.) Or, he hath gotten Tolosan golde, (the owners wherof spedde no better than the former) with many suche other prouerbes, whiche I holde it best to ouerpasse, lest ye thought I had robbed my friende E­rasmus Adagies. To retourne therfore to my matter, I saie, Who they be that for­ [...]ne ad­ [...]aun [...]eth. that Fortune fauoureth men not of the most for­cast, and loueth bolde hazardours, suche as refuse no chaunce of the dyse. But wysedome maketh men the [Page] warer, and more fearefull to auenture any thing. wher­fore ye see daiely how these wysemen are euer pounded in beggery and necessitee, and fedde with smoke, leadyng foorth theyr tymes as vnregarded, vnestemed, and vn­accepted. Fooles ob­taine pro­mocions before wise men. Wheras my fooles on the other syde dooe flow in richesse and promocions, and for short doe flou­risshe on all sydes. For surely, and if ye coumpt it no small parcell of felicitee to stande in good grace with great men, and liue familiarly amongꝭ those my golden gods: now I see not what wisedome can auaile you, nay rather how it shoulde not muche disprofite you, seeyng they for the most parte beyng vnlerned, doe reproue ler­nyng, as that they know not. Or if Rychesse be to be sought for, I praie you what gaine can the merchant haue, whan as wysedome biddeth, his conscience at a­ny tyme shoulde stagger at a false othe, or beyng taken with a plaine lie, he did blusshe therat, or set but a bar­ly corne by all those grudgeyng doubtes, that wysemen put vpon thefte and vserie. Moreouer, who so gapeth after spiritual dignitees and promocions, (as there be rauins enough that watche for suche carein) let hym thinke that an asse or a cowherde shall sooner be aduan­ced to the same than any wyse, or learned man. Than in case thou estemest womens loue and daliaunce (whi­che sure is one of the greatest partꝭ of my plaie) Thei good podes are wholy addicted to fooles and trifletal­kers, yea none otherwyse dooe abhorre and sho [...]ne a wiseman, than thei woulde dooe a Skorpion. Briefe­ly, who so euer they be, that entende to lyue frankely in feast and gladnesse, for the fyrste poincte will see well that Maister Sage be shutte out of the dores, and sooner [Page] let in any maner beast than him. Finally, what euer side ye tourne you to, be it to Prelates, to Princes, Iud­ges, Rulers, friendes, or enemies, all thyng is gotten for money, Moneys force. whiche like as a wiseman despiseth, so I thinke it be, because he can not come by it, it standeth so farre from his reache, as if the foxe would eate no gra­pes. Well, all be it there be no ende nor mea­sure of my praises, yet it must behoue me at last to make an ende of my talke, I will leaue therfore. So that fyrst I maie briefely touche vnto you, how I want not of many great Autours, who with theyr writyngꝭ and deedes also haue blasonned and set me foorth, lest elles perchaunce ye might iudge, that foolisshely I stande in myne owne conceite, or lawiers myght vse cauillacions against me, saiyng, I alleged no bokes for my prouffe. Goe to therfore, let vs allege somewhat for our selfe, and reherce vp as they dooe thyngꝭ nothyng seruyng to the purpose. Folie pro­ [...]eth hir praises by [...]uctoritees out of [...]. So fyrst I saie, that none will de­nie this olde sawe to be true, how wheras the thyng selfe wanteth, there it is best at lest to countrefaict the same, wheru­pon younge children that goe to schole, haue for one of theyr fyrst lessons this verse of Cato taught them, whi­che saieth: It is most wysedome for a man in place to countre­faicte Folie. Now therfore I praie you consider with your selues, how great a weale and benefite must Folie in deede be, wheras the countrefaictyng and shadowe onely of the same, deserueth so muche praise at learned men. Amongꝭ whom myne owne good Horace, as a fatte and fayre fedde hoglyng of Epicures herde, ad­uiseth men to myngle Folie with their graue counsailes, (all be it the addicion he maketh of short Folie, was not all of [Page] the cunnyngest.) Also in an other place he saieth, It is a sweete thyng to be a foole whan place requyreth: And than againe he confesseth, he had rather be holden for a foole and an Ideote, than beyng wyse, to be barked at, and bytten of euerie bodie. And Homer likewyse, wheras in all condici­ons he praiseth and commendeth Telemachus, yet in dyuers places he is wont to call hym childisshe and im­prudent, whiche name these writers of Tragedies dooe gladly for a token of good lucke geue to boyes, and stripelyngꝭ. But for Gods sake, what is els conteigned in Homers whole Poesie of the sacred boke called I­lias, saue onely the contencious debates of foolisshe kynges, and foolisshe people? wherby it appeareth, that all the world is full of fooles, as Cicero saied rightly, in whiche so few woordes he gaue me as absolute and ample a praise, The worth full of foo [...] les. as myght be. For who is he that knoweth not the value and goodnesse of a thyng to be the more acceptable, the largelier and more copiously that the same is spread in­to all partes? But it maie be (ye will saie) that Chri­sten men geue no credence to these painem autours: Auctori­tees out of scripture for folie. in whiche case (if ye thinke so good) I am content to proppe vp, and found [...] (as doctours saie) my praises vpon su­che textes as for witnesse of the same I shall fetche out of holy scripture. Fyrst of all praiyng diuines of their lawfull fauour, that they will licence me so to dooe.

Next than because I take a great charge in hand, and it were no good maner to call the Muses eftesoones from theyr fountaine of Helicon, to come backe so great a iourney as is from thence hither, namely for a mattier smally perteignyng to theyr facultee, peraduenture it were better wisshed of me, whiles I plaie the Doctresse [Page] of diuinitee, and passe through these brambles, that the soule of Duns woulde a little leue Sorbone College, aud enter into my brest, be he neuer so thornie, and ful­ler of pricles than is any vrcheon, to departe againe whan I haue dooen ones, and if he list to the galowes.

That woulde god I myght proprely take a new conute­nance, and were cladde in a doctourlike apparaile: sa­uyng I feare lest some of you woulde laie thefte to my charge, as though I had priuily pi [...]ed our Maister d [...]ctors cunnyng out of theyr study deskes, because I can so mu­che Diuinitee without boke. But haue ye no meruaile though my continuall and daiely conuersacion amonges doctours, maketh me to beare awaie some one woorde or other: seyng the fygtree image of Priapus coulde in pro­cesse of tyme, as his maister redde Homer, marke and remembre some Greke vocables. And likewyse Lu­cyans cocke throughe longe continuaunce and conuer­syng amongꝭ men, did learne so perfectly theyr speche. But now (ou gods name) to our mattier: Salomon the Ecclesiaste writeth in his fyrste chapitre, that the noumbre of fooles is infinite. Now where he speaketh of an infinite noumbre, is it not as muche, as if he com­prehended all men therin, sauyng onely a certaine, so few, as I can not tell if at any tyme they were seen at all? Muche more expressely dooeth Ieremie confesse the same: for eche man (saieth he) is made a foole in his owne wysedome: So onely vnto God he loweth wyse­dome, and assigneth folie for peculier vnto all men.

Than againe a little abou [...] that, he would no man shuld glorie in his owne wysedome: and why so mine owne good Ieremie? Fo [...]so [...]the (will he saie) for that man [...]ath no [Page] wysedome at all. But to retourne againe to the Eccle­siaste. what ment he (trow ye) by his protestacion, when he lowdely cried out so, Vanitee of vanitees, and all is va­nitee? what? but (as afore I saied) that this humaine life is naught but a certaine great plaie of Folie? con­firming (as who saieth) that noble sentence of Cicero [...] little afore recited, how all this world is full of fooles. More­ouer, where the other wyse Ecclesiasticus saied, A foole changeth like the moone, but a wiseman abydeth in one state as the sonne? what signified he els hereby? but that mankynd is altogethers foolisshe, and God onely deserueth the name of wisedome. For ye shall vnderstand, that by the moone (accordyng to the exposicion of doctours) is fi­gured mankynde: and by the sonne, whiche is the head and fountaine of all light, is ment god him selfe the fa­ther, and originall of all sapience. Wherunto this ma­keth greatly, that Christ hym selfe in the gospell, deni­ed any man ought to be called good; sauyng god hym selfe.

Now therfore if euery man that is not wyse, muste be holden for foolishe, aud who so euer is good, is wife al­so, (accordyng as the Stoikes do affyrme) than per con­sequeut ye must nedes confesse, that mortall men are al­togethers wrapped in the bandes of Folie. Further­more, Salomon in his .xxv. chapitre saieth: Folie ma­keth fooles gladde: wherin he confesseth plainely, that no­thyng in this life can be sweete or pleasant, vnlesse that folie yelde the same vnto you: and hereunto maketh that saieyng also: who exhorteth you to wysedome, exhor­teth you to sorow: and in muche vnderstandyng, is muche indigna­cion: and doeth not this noble preacher plainly confirme the same, saiyng in his .vii. chapitre: That the hert of a [Page] wyseman is wheras sorow is, and the hert of a foole wheras glad­nesse is. Therfore Salomon thought it not sufficient to consume time about the knowlage of wysedome, vnlesse he further shoulde busie hym selfe to know me also.

That in case ye smally beleue myue, marke I praie you his owne woordꝭ in the fyrst chapitre: And I haue ap­plied my hert (saieth he) to know wysedome and learnyng, and lykewyse to know errours and folie: wherin ye must note this well, how it maketh muche for my dignitee, that he putteth folie in the latter place, namely seyng the Ec­clesiaste, or churche preacher wrote it, and pardie ye know how the church ordre willeth, that who so is first in dignitee, shall goe last in place, to the ende, that how euer in other poinctes, yet herein at lest he dooe obserue the precepte of the gospell. But folie to be farre more noble and excellent than wisedome, I wene I can proue you by witnesse of the Ecclesiasticus, who so euer was autour of that boke in the .xliiii. chapitre of the same: whose text surely I holde it not best to recite vnto you, before ye somewhat shall haue ayded the induction of myne argument, with aunswearyng handsomely vnto me, lyke as Plato introduceth those that dispute with Socrates to dooe. So fyrst I demaunde of you, what thyngꝭ to your iudgement ought soonest to be kept close and hydden, other those that are precious and rare to be gotten, or other that are vile & dogchepe in euery place? dooe you holde your peace? Now surely how euer ye woulde dissemble, yet shall this olde greke prouerbe an­sweare for you: the waterpotte is sette behynde euerie dore: the auctoritee of whiche prouerbe let none of you be so [...]godly to refelle, seeyng Aristotle hym selfe, the god [Page] of our maister doctours doeth in many places recite it [...] and in sadnesse I can not thynke, that any of you all is so madde, to leue golde or precious stones in the hiegh waie: naie rather ye laie theim vp in your most secrete closettꝭ, and yet, that snot uffisyng, ye double locke them in the strongest coffers ye haue, wheras durt ye leue li­yng still on the dunghill. Ergo, if that be hydden, that is more precious, and the other vile thyngꝭ are left abrode as vntended to, is it not manifest now, that wise­dome whiche he forbyddeth to be hydden, is farre more vile than folie, whiche muste accordyng to his rede be locked vp and kept as close as maie be? And now I am content to reherce you his owne woordꝭ, (whiche are) Better is the man that hydeth his folie, than he who hydeth his wysedome. But what saie you to this that scripture at­tributeth to fooles a certaine benignitee, and gentill whitenesse of nature, condemnyng wysemen for proude and despisours of all others saue theim selues? For so dooe I plainely take the meanyng of the Ecclesiaste in the .x. chapitre. But a foole (saieth he) that walketh in the strete, beyng hym selfe vnwise, supposeth all men to be fooles as he. Now is it not (I praie you) a signe of an ex­cedyng gentilnesse in hym to make euery body his mat­che and felow? that wheras none so base wil not meanely stande yet in selfe reputacion, his curtesie is suche to dele euery man a fleese of his praise. Therfore Salo­mon beyng so great a kynge, was naught ashamed of my name whan he saied in his .xxx. chapitre, I am most foole of all men: Nor Paule doctour of the gentiles thought scorne therof, when writing to the Corinthians he said: I speake it as vnwise, that I more than others. &c. as who [Page] saieth it were a great dishonour for him to be ouercome in folie. But here (loe) me thynkꝭ I heare how I am hissed at by some of these greke professours, who study scripture in that tounge, and make as though other do­ctours at these daies saw nothyng, nomore than crowes dooe whan their eies ar peckt out, whiles with certaine Annotacions of their owne, they goe about to duske mens eies as with smoke, amongꝭ whiche sorte of note­makers, my friende Erasmus, whom often for honours sake and good will I dooe mencion, maie be counted the seconde, if not the fyrst. They (like enough) will re­proue me, and (ô) what a foolisshe allegacion is this (will they saie)? and how mete a witnesse for dame Folie to bringe in? wheras the apostles meanyng is farre otherwyse, than she dreameth it to be: for in these woordes he wolde not be taken for more foole than other, but whan he had saied, They are ministers of Christ, and so am I also, to the ende yet he shuld not be holden for a vainglorious vaunter in that he made him selfe coequall with the other, he added as by correction, I more than other, signifi­yng therby, how not onely he was matche to the other apostles, but somewhat also their superiour: whiche althoughe he woulde shoulde be taken for verie trueth, yet lest the arrogant auowyng therof might partly haue offended mens [...]ares, he did first shelde the same with the pretexte of Folie, (saiyng) I speake it as the vnwyser, because he wist what priuilege fooles haue to speake trouthe without offence. Well, what euer Paule mente whan he wrote thus, I leaue hardly to theim to dispute [...]: because I will ynglier dooe folow the auctoritee of other grosse and fatte doctours, who amonges vulgar folke, are in greatest reputacion, so farfoorth as a great part of learned men also had leuer (by god) for more [Page] suretie be deceiued with theim, than iudge vpon righter knowlage with these studiers of the scripture in the thre toungꝭ. For no man setteth more by these smatterers in the Greke tounge, than thei wold do by as many chat­teryng iaes: chiefely seyng that a certaine glorious do­ctour, whose name I dooe suppresse for the nones, Nicola [...] de Lyra. leste els these iaies woulde chatter this greke taunt against hym, An asse to the harpe, doeth in expoundyng bothe ma­gistrally and theologically this selfe same texte from this poincte forwarde, I more than others, make it to be the head of a new sentence, puttyng also a new clefte and diuision in the same, whiche sure he coulde neuer haue dooen, without a wonderous conueighance of Lo­gike. But for more plainesse I will repete vnto you his owne woordes, not onely in forme, but also in matter, (as scholemen saie): And this was his exposicion. I speake it as the more vnwise, that is to saie (quod he) in case I seeme vnwise vnto you because I doe coequall my selfe vnto the false apostles, than more vnwise will you coumpt me, in auaun­cyng my selfe afore theim. Neuerthelesse this goodly e [...] ­positour not muche bynethe that, as if he had forgotten him selfe, falleth quite into an other sense. But wher­about goe I now? Shall I stande to one onely exem­ple in my defence, Holy [...] likened to a Cheuere [...] skynne. seyng all doctours take it commenly for theyr priuilege, to streche out heauen (that is to saie) holy writte lyke a cheuerell skynne? Seyng also how in Paules epistles, the woordꝭ of scripture fare as if they were of contrary senses, wheras beyng set in their right places, they doe varie neuer a dele, if we geue cre­dite to Hierome. For whan Paule saw at Athenes an Altare dedicate to the Goddꝭ, the entitlyng wherof he [Page] thought good to bringe in for a prouffe and corroboraci­on of the Christen beleefe, leauyng all the rest that made against his purpose, he toke onely the two latter woor­des of the same, (which were these) to the vnknowne god, yet in some parte he was content to chaunge theim to: for the whole superscripcion was set vp in this maner.

To the gods of Asia, Euro [...]a, and Africa, to the vnknowne, and estraunge Gods. So vpon this exemple of Paule I wene it procedeth, that commenly at these daies my faire broode of doctours do enterprise to nippe of here and there, foure or fiue woordꝭ of the whole, yea and those some thyng altered and corrupted (if it stande theim vpon) to applie the same so botched together to theyr owne sense and commoditee, how euer that that goeth before, and that that foloweth, dooeth nothyng serue to purpose, or rather make clea [...]e against them. Whiche their saied iugglyng they conueigh yet by so happie an vnshame­fastnesse, as in this poinct Ciuilians haue cause often­tymes to enuie doctours of diuinitee, whan now in Alle­gacions nothyng makyng for the mattier, they bee so farre passed by theim. For I praie you (of friendship) tell me, what thyng maie be to harde for these doctours to bringe about? seeyng how that great aforesaied do­ctour (I had almost blabbed foorth his name againe, but I feare me I tell you of the greke adage) coulde draw out of Lukes woordes, the construction of a sen­tence nomore agreable vnto Christes meanyng therin, than fyre is with water? For Christe whan the immi­nent daunger of his death aproched, what tyme, or ne­uer, it becometh good seruauntꝭ most constantly to take theyr maisters part, and defende hym to theyr powers, [Page] as confederates in league dooe one for an other, to the ende yet he myght driue all confidence in suche maner defence out of his Apostles hertꝭ, axed of theim, whe­ther thei wanted ought, what tyme he sent theim foorth so bare­ly without any maner prouision, not geuyng theim so muche as shoes to saue their feete from thornes and stones, nor yet a wallet to put their meate in? wherunto whan thei had aunswerd, that thei lacked nothyng: But now (quod he) who so of you hath a wallette, let him self it, and his bagge also, yea and who so hath not, make he sale at lest of his cote, to bie him a swoorde. Now wheras it is manifest enough, that all Christes doctrine pretendeth naught but mekenesse, pacience, and con­tempte of this mortall lyfe, whiche of you perceiueth not, what he ment in this place? For I take it plainely that he saied thus, to geue his Ambassadours the Apo­stles, the better courage, to the ende that they not one­ly shoulde set no store by shoes, nor by vitailyng bagges, but should cast awaie theyr cotes also, the nemblier and more deliuerly to goe about theyr charge and commis­sion of the gospell preachyng, prouidyng theim selues of naught els but onely a sworde, not that sworde that theues and murderers dooe occupie, but the swoorde of the sprite, beyng whetted all on Charitee, whose poinct perseth into the inwarde partꝭ of mans hert, and cutteth all flesshely affections thence, so clene, as naught re­maineth sauyng pietie, and ardent loue towardes god. But marke ye now (of felowship) how warlyke this famous doctour wresteth the plaine & clere sence here­of. For by the swoorde (saieth he) is ment defence against persecucion: and by the wallette is vnderstode competent proui­sion we shoulde make of thynges necessarie to liue withall. As [Page] who saieth, Christes mynde were chaunged, because hym seemed that he sent foorth his Ambassadours not halfe royally furnisshed, and therfore did recant here, and call backe his fyrst Instructions geuin theim. Or as if he had here forgotten those woordes, whiche afore he spake vnto theim with suche a vehemencie, ye shal be blissed whan ye be persecuted withall kynde of oultrage and tur­ment, but make ye no resistence against those euisses ye shall suf­fer: for blissed be the meke in sprite, not those that are fierce, and stubb [...]urne herted. Or as if it were quite out of his re­membrauce, that in other places he likeneth them to spa­rowes, and lilies, as touching the small care that thei shuld take for theyr liuyng. Now, so muche lacked that he would haue theim goe weponlesse, as rather thei shulde sell theyr cotes from theyr backes to bie the same: and sooner goe naked, than without a swoorde by theyr side. Moreouer lyke as vnder the name of Swoorde (as he expoundeth it) all maner of defence is conteigned, that maie re­pell iniurie, and violence, so vnder the name of bagge, is compri­sed what euer prouision is made to liue withall. And thus (loe) this depe expositour of Gods will and meanyng setteth foorth the apostles complete armed, with iaue­lins, bowes and arowes, slinges, and haulfe hakes, to preache the gospell, and Christes crosse. Ladyng them moreouer with great males, and paniers well stuffed with vitailes, lest els perchaunce they might sometyme departe from theyr innes vndyned. No not so muche as this, myght any thyng moue this gaie learned man, that Christ hym selfe shortly after rebukyng Peter bid­deth the swoorde shoulde be put vp againe, whiche afore he commaunded so ernestly to be bought: and that it neuer [Page] was hearbe how the apostles did at any tyme occupie sworde and buckler, to resist theyr aduersaries violence, whiche nathelesse they woulde not haue sticked to dooe, in case that Christes meanyng in these aforesaied woor­des had been suche, as he expoundeth it to be.

There is an other doctour likewyse of no lesse reputaci­on than this former, but for honours sake I name hym not, who interpretyng a place of Abacuc the prophete, where he saieth, The skinnes of the lande of Madian shall be disparcled and torne asunder: nothing consideryng that the Prophete spake of the M [...]dianistes lodgeynges or tentes for the fielde, whiche were made of beastes skinnes, as aunciently men in warrefare vsed, writeth plainly, that Abacuc did prophecy there of the fleayng of Sainct Bar­thelmeus skynne. I my selfe not longe agoe [...] was present (as many times I am wont to be) at a cer­taine disputacion, where dyuers doctours were assem­bled. There whan one of them by chance had put forth a question, by what auctoritee of scripture heretikes ought soo­ner to be coumptrolled by the fire, than confuted by argumentes? An other auncient father, that satte by hym, beyng so crabbed faced, as onely the complexion of his hangyng browes might tell you straight he was maister doctour, aunswerde in a great cholere, that Paule him selfe was the fyrst ordeigner of that lawe, wheras in one of his epistles it is redde, Haereticum hominem post vnam et alteram correptionem deuita (But I axe perdone at your delicate eares, because I can not otherwise than in the latine phrase expresse it vnto you) I exhorte you (saieth Paule) to deuite or shonne the company of heretikes, after you shall haue ones or twise reproued theim for their erro­nius [Page] opinions. Now whan this doctour had thundred foorth this texte in a bigge voyce, makyng often repe­ticion of this latine woorde (deuita) so that many mer­ua [...]ed now what the diuell he ailed, at last he concluded, that heretikes muste be lifted de, vita, makyng two woordes therof, as who saieth lifted out of life.

Many laughed at this his fine exposicion, and some there were yet, who toke the same for a verie Theologass inuencion. But wheras others (that notwithstandyng) beganne to replie, by and by rose vp an other muche so­lemne and irrefragable doctour to take his part. And thus lieth the case (quod he) It is written, Suffer thou no misdooer to liue, now sins that euery heretike misdooeth, ergo thou must suffer no heretike on liue. This Syllogysme beyng thus trussed vp by hym, (lorde) how all the assi­stence beganne to wonder at his wittinesse, thoroughly coufyrmyng his sentence, yea and that the sooner, seyng none of theim [...]ad the witte or learnyng to consider, how that law was fyrste ordeined against lottemongers, enchaunters and sorcerers, suche as the Hebrews in theyr tounge name witches. For els why shoulde not for­nicatours, and drunkardes by as good reason, be puni­shed with the lyke peine of death? But I plaie the ve­rie foole in goyng about to tell vnto you, all suche balde deuises of these furde hoodedmen, beyng in deede so in­numerable, as woulde not (on my conscience) be com­prehended in all the large volumes of Crisyppus, and Didymus, takyng hardly Fytzharbertꝭ abregementes for aduantage. Onely my meanyng was, to aduertise you, that seing those diuine maister doctours durst take vpon theim to wrest and mistake scripture in suche sort, than [Page] muche more I must be borne with, beyng but a younge doctresse, and lyke a woman shotyng foorthe my bolte at the gainest, if sometyme maie chaunce I laie not all my allegacions fully by leuell. But now at last I lepe backe againe to sainct Paule, and Gladly (saieth he) ye dooe beare with vnwise men, (speakyng it by him selfe) also in an other place, receiue you me, as vnwise that I am: and further, I speake not this precisely as vpon gods precepte, but rather in mine owne vnwisedome. Than againe, we (saieth he) are become fooles for Christes sake: Dooe you here now how great praises of Foly this so great an au­tour alleageth, yea and that more is, he plainely enioy­gneth Folie vnto vs, for a thyng moste necessarie, and right, importyng to saluacion? For who so semeth (saieth he) to be wise amonges you, let him become a foole, to the ende he be wise in deede. How saie you my maisters, woulde ye any more euident prouffes than this, or an other ex­emple also in Lukes gospell, where Iesus calleth the two disciples fooles, with whom he ioigned company by the waie? This in especiall maie be taken for a meruaile, These ar­gumentes must be ta­ken as spo­ken by Fo­lie, not that Erasmus ment so in deede. how Paule so great a diuine spareth not to attribute a maner foolisshenesse, yea vnto god also: where he saieth, what euer of god is foolisshe, is wyser yet than any thyng in men: in expoundyng of whiche texte Origene denieth it to be possible, that this foly maie be referred to the generall opinion of men vpon the same. As appeareth by this other text of Paule, to reason of the misteries of the crosse, is surely to suche as beleue it not and dooe perisshe in their pe [...]uersnesse, naught els but Folie. But aye, what ayleth me to seke so many textes of Scripture for witnesses of my woordes, seeyng Christ hym selfe in [Page] the psal [...]ier dooeth plainly speake thus vnto the father, Thou knowest myne vnwysedome? So, not without some cause and respecte we see in scripture, howe fooles and simple soules stande hieghly in Goddꝭ fauour, whiche I take to be, that lyke as great princes haue wysemen in ielousie and suspicion, as Iulius Caesar had Brutus and also Cassius, wheras he nothyng helde hym selfe adradde of drunken Marke Anthony, and as Nero mistrusted Seneca, and Dionysius stode in doubte of Plato, wheras freely on the other syde they gaue them selues to the pleasant company of men, of a grosser and more simple capacitee: So in like rate dooeth Christe blame and reproue these worldly sages, who fully cleue and stande to theyr owne wysedome. This by Paules woordꝭ is confyrmed, where he saieth, God hath chosen hym out those that the worlde reputed for fooles. By Folie in these places is ment godly sym­plicitee and by wyse­dome a worldly [...]o [...]. And in an other place: God hath disposed to saue the worlde by foolish­nesse, seyng that by wisedome it might not be conserued. Yea God him selfe doeth sufficiently confesse the same, wher­as he crieth by the mouthe of the prophete, I shall con­founde the wisedome of wisemen, and reproue the prudence of Sages: So Christ in an other place rendeth thankꝭ vn­to the father, that he had hidden the misterie of saluacion from wisemen, and disclosed thesame to youngelinges, (That is to saie) to fooles, (For so the Greke woorde signifieth.)

And hereto serue the manyfolde nippes and tauntes, wherwith Christ in diuers places of the gospell, bayteth Pharisees, and Scribes, and Doctours of the law, ta­kyng ernestly yet the part of simple and vnlearned fol­kes. For is it not as muche to saie, Woo be vnto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, as woo be vnto you, ye wisemen [...] [Page] But where finde you that euer he charged either yong [...] ­lynges, or women, or fisshers, with that so heauie a woorde? For it semeth proprely that he delited muche in theyr simplicitee, euin lyke as those kindꝭ of dumme [...]astes were most acceptable vnto hym, that were far­dest remoued from all Forelike wylinesse. And ther­fore chose he rathest to ryde on an asse, all be it (so plea­syng hym) he myght as safely haue bestridden a Lyons backe. We reade also that the holy ghoste descended [...] the lykenesse of a Culuer, and not of an Egle, or a Put­tocke. And besydes this, scripture in many places ma­keth mencion of hertes, of faunes, of lambes, and suche se­ly beastes. Lyke as Christe dooeth call his elect and chosen by the name of Shepe, whiche beaste is of all o­thers the vnwysest (witnesse this prouerbe of Aristo­tle) his maners sauour of the shepe, or he hath shepishe condici­ons: whiche quippie in waie of reproche is vsed against blockeheades of the verie sklendrest capacitee. And yet we see, how Christ professeth hym selfe to be the herde­man of suche a flocke: Yea and that more is, delited hym selfe in the name of Lambe, that Iohn the Baptist gaue hym, whan he poincted hym thus to the people: Lo [...] here the lambe of God: whiche ressemblaunce is lyke­wyse cited in many places of the Apocalipse. Now all these textes that I haue alleaged, doe thei no [...] plain­ly testifie, that mortall men beyng [...]ooles, are godly also? and that Christ hym selfe mindyng the relefe and redempci­on of mankyndes folie, although he was the ineffable wisedome of the father, became yet a maner foole, wher­as takyng mans nature vpon hym, he was founde bothe in fourme and habite lyke vnto other men. Euin as [Page] Paule saieth, he was made sinne also, to cure and heale the synnes of the worlde: to whiche sinnes yet it pleased him to ministre none other medecines, than the Folie of the crosse, by the handes of the Apostles, beyng grosse and vnskilled men: whom [...]atheles he as diligently did per­swade vnto foolisshenesse, as otherwyse he retired and dishorted theim from wysedome, in alluryng theim by exemples shewed vpon Children, vpon burdes of the ayre, and other thynges smallie sensed or no whitte, as whiche liue by no arte nor fordrifte, and likewyse in warnyng them to take no care how thei shoulde vse their woordes, whan thei were brought afore iudges and presidentes, and further in for­biddyng theim to seke out the accoumpt of times, or the smallest momentes of times. To the ende (as who saieth) they shulde not leane to their owne prudence, but with whole thought and mynde depende on hym, remittyng all vn­to his discrecion. Wherunto this also maie be applied, that god the Creatour and fyrst former of all thynges forbadde Adam vnder penaltee of death he shulde not taste of the fruite of the tree of Science or knowlage. As who saieth Science were the mere poyson to felicitee: Ac­cordyng wherto, Paule also dooeth openly reproue sci­ence for a thyng most hurtesome and pernicious, The ta­sting of the fruite of the tree of knowlage brought in [...]eath. seyng it puffeth vp the minde of man with selfe glorie: Lyke as sainct Ber­nard also folowyng (as I take it) Paules saied opini­on, expoundeth the hille, wheron Lucifer establisshed his seate, to be the hille of Science. And perchaunce it shoulde not be the feblest argument, to saie that fooles finde so mu­che grace and fauour afore god, as to Folie onely is ge­uin perdone and forgeuenesse of trespasses, wheras to wysedome not so muche as the leastiote is remitted.

[Page]In sort that who so euer dooe axe at god forgeuenesse of theyr sinnes, although they wittyngly did committe the same, yet will they vse a certaine colour and pretext of Folie for theyr excuse. For so dooeth Aaron in the boke of Numbres (if I well remembre me) desire per­done of the punisshement that his wiues faultes deserued, Saie­yng, I praie the (O lorde) not to laie to our charge this sinne, whiche we haue foolisshelie committed. And so dooeth Saul praie Dauid to forgeue hym, For it appeareth (saied he) that I haue dooen foolisshely. Thau againe the selfe Da­uid speaketh fayre and humbly to the lord, in this wise, But I praie the (O lorde) to perdone the iniquitee of thy ser­uaunt, seyng we haue dooen foolisshely. As if he thought he shoulde obteine no mercie, vnlesse he had laide Folie and inconsidraunce to b [...]e. But what speake we of Da­uid? knowyng how Christ the sonne of god hangyng on the crosse did in this wise make intercession for his enemies, Father, forgeue them, and laide none other excuse, than, for thei know not what thei dooe. So Paule in like maner writyng to Timothe saied, But herefore haue I ob­teined the mercy of god, in as muche as ignorantly I offended in mine incredulitee. Now what is it to saie, I offended i­gnorantly, but that, I did it through folie and not tho­rough malice? or what other exposicion can ye make, of herefore haue I obteined mercie, than that els I shoulde not haue obteined it, not hauyng laide the wyte on Fo­lie? And no lesse maketh for vs, that saiyng of Dauid in the Psaltier, Lorde, take not to herte the trespasses of my youth, and mine ignorauncies remembre not. Doe you marke now what two colours he bringeth in for his purgacion? that is to saie Youthe, whiche age I dooe euer accom­pany, [Page] and ignorancies, speakyng it in the Plural num­bre, to expresse therby the greatter copie and haboun­bance of his Folie. Finally, as it were an endlesse la­bour to tell you infinite suche exemples, so to knitte vp shortly, I saie in my conceite, that Christian Religion seemeth to haue a certaine sybship with simplicitee, and deuoute foolisshenesse, These wordes muste not be wre­sted to any [...]uill sense otherwise than the autour [...]ent. in nothyng agreyng with world­ly wysedome. But if ye axe me, as how? than doe no more but consider how children, old folkes, women, and fooles, are those amongꝭ others that shew theim selues deuoutest, and most enclined to churche seruice, and holy thyngꝭ, reioysyng to be present therat, in sort that euer at Masse tyme ye shall see theim approche nerest vnto the altars, euin through a certaine instinction of natu­rall selinesse prouokyng theim to god. Thinke also how the verie fyrst autours and founders of Christen Religion were as sharpe aduersaries of all Science, and men trustyng to theyr owne cunnyng, as otherwyse frendly embrasorus of simplicitee and plainesse. Lastly perpende ye thus, how no maner fooles are in apparence more ideotelike, than suche as are totally rauisshed, and enflamed with the ardent zeale of Christian charitee. So loueshly thei deale their goodes abrode, forgette all iniuries doen vnto theim, suffre theim selues to be deceiued, put no difference betwene friendes and foes, abhorre all pleasures and delites of the bodie, are fedde vp and made fatte with fastyng, watchyng, teares, labours, and despites, despise their owne life, end desire death aboue life, briefely seme to be so astonned and past all com­men sensis, whiche men liue by, as if their soules dwelled not in those bodies thei beare about with theim, but rather in some o­ther mansion place. Whiche straunge trade of theyrs I [Page] know not how to call, but well maie it to the commen iudgement of men, appeere to be a verie madnesse, or ra­ [...]yng of the wittes. Meruaile ye the lesse therfore, that the apostles were iudged by the wicked Ethnikes to be drunkardes, Take thes [...] woordes to be spo­ken vnder the person of Folie. as if their heddes were ouercharged with new wine. And that Paule likewise was holden for madde, of Fe­stus the president of Iurie, in these woordes, Thou rauest Paule, and muche learnyng of bokes hath turned the into a mad­nesse. But seeyng I haue ones taken vpon me to plaie the d [...]ctresse, puttyng on a Lyons hide (as they saie) let me not sticke now to goe through withall, and to tea­che you this also, that the selfe same felicitee, whiche Christians doe so hotely desyre, Foly spea­keth. and by so many labours dooe seke for, is naught els than a certaine kynde of ra­uyng, in the sprite, and godly foolisshenesse. Whiche woordes I would not ye should grate on, nor take them at the woorst, but rather note the thyng in deede as it li­eth. For fyrst ye must thinke, how Christians in this poinct dooe fully agree with the opinion of Platos Se­ctatours, how the soule of man beyng drowned and entangled in the fleshely bandes of the bodie, can not as being dusked with the grosenesse of the same, beholde and take fruicion of the fight of verie thynges as thei are in deede. Wherupon Plato defineth Philosophie to bee a meditacion or remembraunce of death, in as muche as it plucketh and retyreth the mind of man from visible and corporall thyngꝭ, to those that are inuisible and ghostly. Whiche effect is in death al­so. Therfore so longe as the soule within man doeth rightly and in due wyse peruse the Organs of the bo­die, so longe is that man called sounde, and of good di­screcion: but whan some of those bandes or conduite [...] [Page] beyng ones perisshed, she dooeth busily labour to reco­uer hir freedome, minding a certaine flight (as it were) and breakyng lose from that hir flesshely prison the bo­die, by whiche struglyng the whole frame of the sensis, and inwarde powers is disioygned, you dooe holde him for madde and out of his right mynde: whiche passion if it come perhaps through infyrmitee, or faultinesse of any of those Organs, than dooe all men precisely a­gree, Diuinitee [...] rauers. that it is plaine Madnes: How be it we see that euin this kynde of rauers dooe sometyme also prophe­cie of thyngꝭ commyng, and sodeinly become knowers of tounges, and artes, whiche erste they neuer learned, shewyng to haue in theim I wote neuer what espece of new inspiracion and diuinitee: whiche vndoubtedly chan­ceth, because the soule beyng somewhat enlarged, and made freer from the bodies yoke and contagiousnesse be­ginneth a little to exercise and welde hir selfe accor­dyng to the propretee of hir owne nature. And vpon like occasion many folke labouring in the extreme pangꝭ of death, are muche subiect (as I take it) to somewhat like hereto, as often as if thei were rauished in a traūce, they dooe speake of certaine wonderous thyngꝭ pertei­gnyng to an other worlde. But and if the saied wandryng of the wittꝭ dooe befalle a man for that he is right passyngly moued a [...]d stirred vp with the loue of heauenly thyngꝭ, I doubte now whether it maie be called the selfe same kynde of madnesse, yet sure it is so nere sybbe therto, as many men now a daies will doubt neuer a whitte to repute that his feruent affection to­wardꝭ god, for a verie dotage of the mynde. Namely seyng a smalle numbre of suche sely good soules as are [Page] deteigned therwith, dooe in all theyr deedes, and liuyng repine, and disagree from the whole bande of other mor­tall men. Wherfore (I suppose) they are serued, as Plato feigneth, that one of those prisoners was, that satte bounden in a darke denne vnder grounde (as before I recited vn­to you) wheras naught was seen els, sauyng shadowes and re­presentacions of thinges. That where by chaunce the saied prisoner escaped out of the denne, and so commyng abrode into this worlde, saw verie thinges as thei were in deede, returning of good will to his felowes, to aduertise theim of the errour thei were in, he was no whitte beleeued of theim, but rather laught to scorne: For wheras he like a man of wisedome and experi­ence seemed to pitie their madnesse and great blindnesse in mista­kyng so of thynges, thei on the otherside did potte at him, and thrust him out of their companie, for a frantike foole. So fa­reth it by the vulgar sorte of men, who commenly haue those thyngꝭ in greatest price and admiracion, The diffe­rence be­twene worldly & goldly men. that are most sensuall and bodily, as whiche thei take to be one­ly, and none other: wheras goddꝭ folkes on the other part, what euer draweth nerest to the bodily vse, do the sooner therfore despise and set lyght by it, forsomuche as they are holy rauisshed aud geuin to the contempla­cion of inuisible thyngꝭ. For as worldlyngꝭ haue ri­chesse in best reputacion, next therto estemyng the weale of theyr bodies, and lest regardyng the profite of theyr soules, in case thei regarde it at all, for some of them be­leue there is no soule, because they can not see it at the eie: So againe deuout persons put theyr whole confi­dence in god, beyng the simplest and most pure thyng of all others, and secondly do chearishe that, that draweth nerest to hym, I meane the sprite, bestowyng no cost nor [Page] [...]endance on their bodies, nor on pleasures belongyng to the same. But money of all thyngꝭ they neglect, and set no store by, nomore than ye woulde dooe by thynges superfluous, or rather noysome. That and if (maie chaunce) at any time thei be enforsed to go about world­ly affayres, I can tell you yet, that they doe it euil wil­lyngly, and with a spyced stomake. So that (Paule saieth) thei haue goodes, as not hauyng goodes: and possesse theim, as not possessyng theim, by reason thei varie so muche from the vniuersall and vulgar sorte of men. For although the Senses haue all a certaine parentage a [...]d kynneship with the body, yet be there of the same, some grosser in substaunce, as are fealyng, hearyng, seeyng, smel­lyng, and tastyng: some againe more seuered and remo­ued from the body, as is memorie, vnderstandyng, and free­will. Now seeyng that the soule of man hath therin most strength and vigour, wherunto she moste applieth hir selfe, therfore it cometh to passe, that holy men, the force of whose sprites is wholy bent vpon thynges con­templatiue, whiche are most distaunt and aliened from the grosser senses, dooe fare in the rest, as if they were benummed, or brute of iudgement, as domme beastꝭ are. Wheras contrary the soules of vulgar people are most [...]fe and pregnaunt in those grosse rude senses of the bo­dy, beyng as blunt and dulle yet, in the other fiue pow­ers of the witte. And herevpon (I thynke) it cometh, Saincte Bernard dranke oyle in stede of wyne. that some deuoute persones (as it is written of theim) did without apperceiuyng the difference, drinke lampe oyle in steede of wyne. So likewyse as conceruyng the affections of the minde, some of them be of faster league aud aliaunce to the body, as are flesshely luste, appetite to [Page] fode or slepe, yre, pride, and enuie, with suche other disor­dinate mocio [...]s, wherwith holy men are euer at vnpea­sible warre, but the vulgars not onely dooe not eschew, but rather embrace theim, Diuersitee of affecti­ons. as supposyng they can not liue without them. Than againe, some other affecti­ons are entredeux and indifferent to bothe partes, whi­che we maie name Naturall, as the reuerence a man beareth towardes father and mother, the charinesse he hath ouer his chil­dren, the loue he oweth to his kinnesfolkes and friendes, with suche lyke. Whiche saied Middle affections are had al­so in some degree and price amonges commen people, though not so muche as the other. But holy men will struggle to race theim also out of theyr hertꝭ, sauyng as farfoorth as they be ghostly, and make rather towar­des the hieghest part of man, whiche is the Sprite, than any other flesshely appetites: by whiche conueighance they maie loue theyr parentꝭ not as theyr parentꝭ, (for what els begate thei sauyng theyr bodies? yet euin that also ought to be referred to god the maker of all thyn­ges) but loue theim rather as good folkes, in whom the image of the sprite of god resplendissheth. Whiche saied ressemblance they call verie felicitee, as the great­test good that maie he had, yea suche (thei saie) as one­ly, and none other, shulde be beloued, required, and wi­shed after. And so by this saied rule, dooe thei measure lykewyse all the other partes and duities of this life: wherby it cometh to passe, that what euer thyng is seen here presently at the eie, if so be thei doe not fully con­temne the same, yet sure they sette muche lesse therby, than by other thynges, whiche maie not outwardly be seen. Yea thei saie also, that euin in the churche sacra­mentes, [Page] and woorkes of charitee there maie be tried out bothe a ghostlinesse and a bodilinesse: As for exemple, In fastyng thei holde it not sufficient for a man to absteine from ea­ting of flesshe, whiche vulgar folke suppose to be the entiere and perfect faste, vnlesse that he rebate somewhat also from his affe­ctions, in geuyng lesse raines than before to his anger, or in cut­tyng his prides combeshorter, or in lightnyng him selfe of his bo­dily peize, to the ende his sprite maie the nemblier climbe vp to the gripe and fruicion of heauenly thinges. Likewise in how­sell, and receiuyng of the sacrament, albeit (saie thei) the cere­monies and circumstaunces vsed about the same, ought not to be neglected, yet must we take them of them selfe alone to be little auailable, or rather hartfull, vnlesse the other part, whiche is spi­rituall, be added also therunto: that is to saie, the thyng it selfe, whiche by those outwarde signes is represented. For represen­ted is the death of Christ therby, whiche death all Christen men are bounde to folow and expresse, bothe in dauntyng, fordooyng, and buriyng of all bodily affections, to the end thei maie rise a­gaine, beyng restored to a new life, as vnited therby vnto Christ, and made all one amonges theim selues. These misteries are by godly and spiritual meaners scanned in this sort: but leude folke commenly do take the M [...]sse sacrifice to be of none other effect, than as it were a certaine church seruice, wherin they fully did their duities, aslonge as they be present at it, standyng as nere the altare as thei maie, to here the woordꝭ of the priest, or chauntyng of the quyre, with other lyke ceremonies and obseruauncꝭ vsed about the same. Now, not onely in these two poin­ctes, whiche for exemples sake I haue set to fore you, but generally throughout all their liuyng, holy men wil flie from those thyngꝭ, that sauour of the bodie, as be­yng [Page] rapte and drawen vp to the other, that are ghostly and inuisible. Insomuche therfore as there is suche diuersitee and discencion in all poinctes betwene these two trades of men, it cometh to passe, that eche of them dooe take other for madde and distraught, Marke how Folie dalieth in hir wordes whiche are to be con­strued to [...] good sense or els to be but as a talke of Folie. notwithstan­dyng (in my conceipte) that name maie rightlier be ap­plied vnto holy men, than vulgar people: whiche ye shall plainlier perceiue why, as soone as I haue briefly (accordyng to my promyse) declared vnto you, how the finall mede and gwerdone, that Christen men dooe loke after, is naught els than a certaine sweete rauyng, and simple alienacion of the minde: wherin eftesoones I requyre you, not to be ouer scrupulous graters at the bare woordꝭ without takyng the sense withall. Fyrst therfore ye must thinke, that Plato didde euin than dreame of suche a thyng, whan he wrote, that the passion and extreme rage of feruent louers was to be desired and embrased, as a thing aboue all o­thers most blisfull: because that a vehement louer liueth not now in hym selfe, but rather in that that he loueth, so that the further & further a louers hert is distraught from him selfe, to dwell with the beloued, the more and more he reioyseth. And whan the minde seketh to wan­der from the body, nor occupieth the powers of the same in the due vse, who will call this otherwyse than plaine madnesse? For els why dooe you vse commenly this phrase of speche? he is out of him selfe, and retourne man to thy selfe, and he is come againe to him selfe. It foloweth therfore, how muche more perfect, and the depelier su­che loue is impressed, that so muche the greatter, and the blisfuller is the rage also. Whiche so beyng that soulꝭ yet pinned within these bodily foldꝭ maie smacke [Page] a little of suche a felicitee, consider ye than what a life the sainctꝭ soules leade in heauen? whervnto the min­des of godly persons dooe with suche feruencie aspyre? Seeyng there the sprite as vanquissher, and farre more puissaunt, shall wholy drawe vp, and conuert the body into hir owne nature: Whiche she maie dooe the easili­er, Transfor­macion of the body in [...] the sprite seeyng euin in this life here, she had clensed and pu­rified the same through fastynges and other deuout me­ditacions, to be the meter and more apte to receiue su­che a ghostly transformacion. And than againe, the sprite selfe shalbe meruailously rauisshed and soked vp by the farre more stronge and attractiue power of the hieghest sprite of all, whiche is God. So that now those holy men shalbe altogether transformed and alte­rated, by none other meanes yet to so hiegh a degree in felicitee, sauyng onely because they as wholy beyng is­sued out of theim selues, shall enioy and be participant of that vnspeakeable heauenly sweetenesse, procedyng from a pure and tight perfecte pleasure, throughe the myght of god, the greatest good of all, that rauissheth and attyreth all thyngꝭ to it selfe. Now albeit this saied felicitee is than moste amply and absolutely enioi­ed, whan the soules at the resurrection daie beyng re­stored to theyr owne bodies, The life of good Chri­stians a meditation of the life [...] come. shall ioynctly receiue im­mortalitee: yet inasmuche as the life of good Christians is naught els than a continuall meditacion or certaine shadow as it were of that life to come, it chanceth, that they yet liuyng, haue for theyr coumforte permission at sometymes to discerne a taste or sauour of that hieghest rewarde behight vnto theim: Whiche saied smacke or sente, be it but a little droppe in respecte of that large [Page] flowyng well of eternall felicitee, yet surely it surpas­seth, and incomparablie excedeth all other bodily plea­sures, yea although all the delices of all men were who­ly ioigned and put in one. So muche (loe) are spiritu­all thynges to be preferred before flesshely thinges, and the inuisible before the other visible. For this vndoub­tedly is euin the very gwerdone that the Prophete pro­myseth, Saiyng, was neuer mans eie sawe, nor eare heard, not thought of hert yet compassed, what, and how great felici­tee god hath prepared vnto suche as dooe loue him. And this is Mary Magdalens porcion, whiche by chaunge of life shall not be plucked awaie, but rather be more per­fitely confyrmed. Who so euer therefore haue suche grace (whiche sure is geuin to few) by theyr life tyme to tast of this saied felicitee, they are subiecte to a cer­taine passion muche lyke vnto madnesse or witrauyng, whan rauisshed so in the sprite, or beyng in a traunce, thei dooe speake certaine thyngꝭ not hangyng one with an other, nor after any earthly facion, but rather dooe put foorth a voyce they wote neuer what, muche lesse to be vnderstode of others: and sodeinely without any ap­parent cause why, dooe chaunge the state of theyr coun­tenaunces. For now shall ye see theim of glad chere, now of as sadde againe, now thei wepe, now thei laugh, now they sighe, for briefe, it is certaine that they are wholy distraught and rapte out of theim selues. In sort that whan a little after thei come againe to their former wittes, Godly men in a kynde of traunce. thei denie plainly thei wote where thei became, or whether thei were thā in theyr bodies, or out of theyr bodies, wakyng or slepyng: remembring also as little, either what they heard, saw, saied, or did than, sauyng [Page] as it were through a cloude, or by a dreame: but this thei know certainely, that whiles their mindes so roued and wandred, thei were most happie and blisfull, so that they lament and wepe at theyr retourne vnto theyr for­mer senses, as who saieth, nothyng were leefer vnto theim than continually to raue a [...]d be deteigned with suche a spece of madnesse. And this is but a certaine smacke or thinne taste of theyr blisse to come. But ones more forgettyng my selfe, I passe my boundes. Howbeit if ought shall seeme vnto you to haue been saied of me more knappisshely than became me, or with more wordꝭ than neded, thynke I praie you, that I was the spea­ker, beyng bothe Folie, and a woman. Yet for all that remembre the Greeke prouerbe, that oftentimes a foole maie speake to purpose, vnlesse perchance ye thinke that this ma­keth no whitte for women. I perceiue ye loke for an Epiloge or knotte of my tale, but than sure ye are verie fooles, if ye wene that I yet remembre what I haue spoken, after suche a rable­ment of wordꝭ powred foorth. The old prouerbe saieth, I hate a talebearer from the boorde: But I saie, I hate hym that remem­breth what he hath sayd. Fare ye well therfore, clappe your handꝭ in to­ken of gladnesse, liue carelesse, and drinke all out, ye the trustie seruantꝭ & solemne mi­nisters of Folie.