The praise of Folly.  
MORIAE ENCOMIUM a book made in latin by that great clerk Erasmus Roterodame.  
englished by sir Thomas Chaloner knight.  
ANNO. M. D. XLIX.   

To the reader.  
APOLIE IT MAY BE thought in me to have spent time in englisshing of this book, entitled the praise of Posy, whereas the name itself seemeth to set forth no wisdom, or matter of gravity: unless perhaps Erasmus, the autour thereof, delighted to mock men, in calling it one thing, and meaning an other. To this I answer, that Folly in all poinctꝭ is not (as I take it) so strange unto us, but that her name may well be abidden, aslong as will we or nill we, she will be sure to bear a stroke in most of our dooyngꝭ: how so ever a certain sect of fault finders condemn all things, that fully square not with their own rules, yea twice blind in this, that amongis the comen errors and infyrmitees of mortal men, they will bear nothing with their brethren, as who saith, they were demigoddꝭ, and not more than one or two ways linked in follies bandis.  
I have therefore bestowed an english livery upon this latin book, as well as I could: not so much to please all men, as rather to show how even this Folly toucheth all men. Wherein I would not be noted as a carper of any man particularly (for what more unfitting than in books or plays to touch men by name?) nor that herein I seek to have any kind of men noted for their trade of life, otherwise than the abuse thereof deserveth, but only my meaning is such, as Erasmus in this book shall express for us both. He of his modesty is content to set no great face upon it, nor would be noted to have spent great labour in making thereof: saving as in pastime to have essayed, whether aught might be spoken in praise of Folly, whereas wisdom the virtue can praise itself. And therefore he imagineth, that Folly should be a Goddess, who before all kinds of men assembled as to a sermon, should declare how many benefits they receive at her handis: and how without her access, nothing in this life is delectable, commodious, or tolerable unto us, no not our own life.  
This brave boast might well come from Folly: and seeing that wiser men are wont to take in worth what is said by a fool, therefore is Erasmus also the bolder to put that tale in follies mouth, which under an other person he would have made more courtesy to have spoken. So what excuse he maketh the same I require may serve for me: that things spoken foolisshely, by Folly, may be even so taken, and not wrested to any bitter sense or earnest application. For surely if the crabbedst men that be, are wont to take a fools woordis as in sport, for fear lest others might reckon they would not winch without a galled back: Than how much more is a dumb book written generally to be borne withal? namely where the title pretendeth no gravity, but rather a toy to stir laughter, without offence in the book, if the reader bring none offence with him. For than truly he may chance to see his own image more lively described than in any painted table.  
But if that ways he mislike the deformity of his countrefaicte, let him much more mislike to be such one in deed. And seeing the vices of our days are such as can not enough be spoken against, what know we, if Erasmus in this book thought good between game and earnest to rebuke the same? And chiefly to persuade (if it might be) a certain contentation in every man, to hold him agreed with such lot and state of living, as ariseth to him. For which purpose was I also soon moved to english it, to the end that mean men of base wits and condition, might have a manner comfort and satisfaction in theim selfes. In as much as the hie●● god, who made us all of one earth, hath natheless chosen some to rule, and more to serve. Whereat so much lacketh that the inferiors should repine, as rather set in the meaner degree, they should thank god the more: without aspiring to things above their reach, which should draw more trouble and perils, than if they absteigned therefro, and gave place to others, who had greater gifts of God, and were called by authority of their prince or country to weld the same. For surely, if a man of the poorer sort, whose eyes is dazed in beholding the fair gloss of wealth and felicity, which the state of a great lord or counsellor in a comen wealth doth outwardly represent, did inwardly mark the travails, cares, and anxietees, which such one is driven to sustain (doing as he ought to do) in serving his master and country, whereby he is nothing less than his own man: now I believe he would not much envy his state, nor chose to change conditions of life with him. But this were even the chiefest point of wisdom, though fools (as Folly calleth them) that is to say vulgar folk, are those, that unwitting of their treasure, do in deed enjoy this sweet quietness, and greatest good turn. And weighing this foolish book, after this sense, I ween a profit also may arise therethrough to the readers, besides the delectation, being so pithily pleasant as it is. For as Erasmus in all his works savoureth of a lively quickness, and spareth not sometime in grave mattiers to sprinkle his style, where he may suache opportunity with meerie conceited sentences: so in this book, treating of such a Theme, and under such a person, he openeth all his bowget: So farfoorth as by the judgement of many learned men, he never showed more art, nor wit, in any the gravest book he wrote, than in this his praise of Folly. Which the reader having any considerance, shall soon espy, how in every matter, yea almost every clause, is hidden besides the mirth, some deaper sense and purpose. In deed I again say not, but he maketh Folly to speak at random, without sparing of any estate of men: but yet indifferent ears will hear their faults patiently, as long as they may choose, whether they will take the fault upon them or not: or be a known to be those, whom Folly noteth. But even this frankness of follies taunting I have presumed in some points to itch to the best: namely in two or three places, which the learned reader comparing with the latin book, may easily perceive, how either I have slipped over a line or two, or eased the sour sense of the latin with some manerlier english word. Wherein I chose rather to be counted a scant true interpreter, than otherwise to touch things, which were better unsaied, as long as it hurted not the grace of the book though they were omitted. Likewise in all my translation I have not peined myself to render word for word, nor proverb for proverb, whereof many be greek, such as have no grace in our tongue: but rather marking the sense. I applied it to the phrase of our english. And where the proverbs would take no english, I adventured to put english proverbs of like weight in their placis, Which may be thought by some cunning translators a deadly sin. But I stick not for all that, in this foolish book to use mine own foolish cast. And if it be misliked, I pass not greatly though I lose the praise of my Folly.   

MORIAE ENCOMIUM. Folly speaketh.  
How so evermen commonly talk of me (as pardie I am not ignorant what lewd reports go on FOLLY, yea even amongis those that are veriest fools of all) yet that I am she, I only (I say) who through mine influence do glad both the Goddis and men, by this it may appear sufficiently: that as soon as I came forth to say my mind afore this your so notable assembly, 
A fools presence sterreth laughter.  by and by all your looks began to clear up: unbending the frowning of your brows, & laughing upon me with so merry a countenance, as by my troth me seemeth even, that all ye (whom I see here present) do fare as if ye were well whittled, and thoroughly moisted with the Nectar wine of the Homerical Goddis, not without a portion of the juice of that marvelous herb Nepenthes, which hath force to put sadness and melancholy from the heart: Where as before ye sat all heavy, and glomming, as if ye had come lately from Trophonius cave, or saint Patrick'S purgatory. But like as when Phoebus displaieth his golden bright rays upon the earth, or when after a sharp stormy winter, the new primetyde flourissheth with his calm sweet Western wyndꝭ, than (lo) a new likeness, a new hew, and a new youth (as it were) returneth unto all things: Even so, as soon as I appeared, ye all began to look up lustily. So, what thing these cunning Rhetoriciens for all their long, and forepenned orations can hardly bring about (I mean to drive care, and pensiveness out of the hearer's minds) that have I with my only look, and presence accomplished. And now ye shall wit, to what eutent at this time, in this so strange an apparel, I am come forth amongis you: upon condition ye will not think much to bestow on me your ears a while. 
To trifuls better ear given, then to graver matti●s.  I mean not those ears that ye carry with you to sermons, but those ye give to players, to jesters, and to fools. Yea those (hardly) wherewith my friend Midas whilom hearkened to the rural god Pan, in preferring his rustical song, before Apollo's far finer Melody. For I purpose a season to become a Sophiste, mistake me not I pray you, as if I said Sophistrer, such as now a days drive into childer's headis, certain tangled trifuls, with more than women's stubbornness and scolding in their disputations. But I mean the other, who to the end they might shun that presumptuous name of Sophi or wisemen, did rather take upon them to be called sophists: Whose study and profession it was, to advance, and set forth in their writings the praises both of the Goddis, and of men also, such as were famous and worthies here in earth. Ye shall hear therefore the praise set forth, not of Hercules, nor yet of Solon, but rather of mine own self, That is to say of Folly. In which point, a straw for all these cankered philosophers, and sages, who say it is a most outrageous folly and presumption, for one to praise himself. For truly let them make it as foolish a part as they list, so long as they can not deny it to be congruent. And what (I pray you) may be more apt or better sitting, than dame Folly to praise herself, and be her own trumpet? For who can livelier descrive me than I myself? Unless perhaps some be better acquainted with me, than I myself am. notwithstanding, even this myselfepraise (as me seemeth) I may well take upon me with a more shamefast grace, than to do as commonly these great, and learned men use, who suborn some glozing orator, 
Orators and poets  or vain spoken poet, hired also for meed, to dilate and blast forth their praises, or (rightlier to say) peincted lies. And yet shall one of those shamefast, maidenly men not stick than to display his peacocks feathers, and rouse himself, whiles such shameless flatterers do go about to make him, being a man less worth than nought, coequal yet unto the Gods, in blasonning him for a paragonne, and absolute example of all manner virtues, from which he knoweth himself to be as far wide, as from hence to the man in the moon. Namely whiles those glorious glosers would deck the crow with other burds feathers, or pain them to wash away a Morions blackness, or labour of a silly fly to make an Elephant. For short, I follow in this point the common proverb, which saith, that he may rightly praise himself, whom none other body will. All be it to say the truth, I can not but marvel at men's ingratitude (should I call it) or negligence? that where with one assent they all so frankly do observe me, and gladly peruse my commodities, yet hath not one of them, now so many revolutions of years passed, under taken with some thankful oration to set forth the praises of me Folly, where as some of them have not wanted, who with solemn styles, and much loss of sleep and candle, showed at lest their folly, what ever their matter was, in commendation, some of this notable tyrant, some of that, some in praise of the fever quartan, others in setting forth what commodities be in a fly, in baldness, or such like hateful things. But at my hand, ye shall hear an unadvised, and sudden tale told, though so much perhaps the truer, Which I would not ye should think were said of me for a colour, to advance thereby the ripenesss of my wit, as commonly these learned men do. Who putting forth (as ye know) some book more than whole xxx winters had in culling, 
The vain glory of learned men.  ye and that sometimes none of their own doing, will swear yet, that they made it but for a recreation of their graver studies, or rather as fast as pen could run. For truly it hath ever best liked me to speak straight what so ever lay on my tongues end. But this, to the end ye look not for it, I do warn ye of afore hand, that I in no wise will, according to these common Sophisters and Rhetoriciens manner, go about to show by definition what I am, and much less use any division: In as much as I hold both the one, and the other for unlucky tokens, either to comprehend her under a certain end, or limit, whose influence stretcheth so universally, or else to divide her, in whose observance all men do so wholly consent. And yet I can not tell to what purpose it should serve, to represent a certain shadow, or image of myself, where as presently ye may discern me with your eyes. For I am here (as ye see) the distributrix and dealer of all felicity, named 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Greek, in Latin Stultitia, in English Folly. But aye, what needed me to utter thus much? as if I bore not signs enough in my face, and countenance, what manner person I am: Or as if some one contending that I were Minerva, or Sophia, might not strait with my only look be confuted, though I held my talk, which is no lying mirror of the minds disposition. For in me (ye must think) is no place for setting of colours as I can not say one thing, and think an other: but on all sides I do resemble myself. 
folly dissembled.  So that not so much as they can dissemble me, who take upon them most semblant of wisdom, and walk like Asses in lions skins. That although they counterfeit what they can, yet on some side their long ears pearing forth, do discover them to come of Midas progeny. The unkyndest kind of men living, who being in deed the very standard bearers of my band, would seem yet afore folk to be so ashamed of my name, as not seldom they cast it in others teeth for a great reproach. Such men therefore, that in deed are archdoltes, and would be taken yet for sages and philosophers, may I not aptly call them foolelosophers? For as in this behalf I have thought good to borrow a little of the Rethoriciens of these days, 
Obscur●●● and affe●●tacion of writers.  who plainly think theim selfes demygods, if like horsleches they can show two tongues, I mean to mingle their writingꝭ with words sought out of strange languages, as if it were alonely thing for them to powder their books with inkhorn terms, although perchance as unaptly applied, as a gold ring in a sows nose. That and if they want such far fetched vocables, than search they out of some rotten Pamphlet four or five disused woordis of antiquity, therewith to darken the sense unto the reader, to the end, that who so understandeth them, may repute himself for more cunning, and litterate: and who so doth not, shall s● much the rather yet esteem it to be some high matter, because it passeth his learning. For this is truly not the least of my pleasant properties, to make men ever set most store by strange and outlandisshe things. So that some be of such a vaingloriousness, as when they can least skill thereof, yet will they flire, and nod the head at it, and (as the Ass doth) wag their ears, to make others believe that they are deeply seen sherin. And this, is thus. But now I return to my matter. Ye have heard my name than (O my friendis) what addition shall I give you? What? but my most foolish friendis. For by what more mannerly surname may the Goddess folly call her servants, and allies? But now seeing all folkis know not of what lineage I am descended, so help me the Muses as I intend to declare the same unto you. 
follies father.  My father therefore was neither Chaos, nor Orcus, nor Saturnus, nor any other of that old and rusty race of Gods, but Plutus the golden god of riches, and the only sire of Gods and men, though Hesiodus, Homer, yea and jupiter himself stand never so stiffly against me. At whose only beck as aforetimes, so now also both holy, and unholy things be turned topset turvy. At whose arbitrement, war, peace, kingdoms, counsels, iudgementis, assemblies, marriages, covenauntꝭ, leagues, laws, sciences, games, earnest mattiers (my breath faileth me) to be short, 
The force of money.  all public, and private doings of men are administered. Without whose aid, the whole rout of the poetical Goddis, yea I will say further, those that be the chosen Goddis should either not be at all, or live else with a mess of sklendre cheer: That whom so he is aggrieved with, Pallas is not able to protect him. And who so hath him on his side, may (if it like him) ●efie jupiter, with all his thunder.  
And such a father (lo) do I glory in. Who neither begat me of his brain, 
follies mother.  as jupiter did that unamiable, scowling Goddess Pallas, but of Youth, a Nymph above all others most fair, and goodly. Neither was he (I warrant you) at the time of my begetting clogged with the heavy yoke of wedlock, wherein Vulcan that lymphault smith was borne, but rather mixed in love (as my Homer saith) which I take to be a copulation not a little more pleasant than the other is. Further, to the end that ye mistake nothing, I do ye to wit that Plutus begat me not in his old days, when he was blind, and scarce able to go for age, and goutinesse, as the poet Aristophanes descriveth him: but in his prime years, when as yet he was sound, and full of hot blood, but much fuller of Nectar drink, which sitting at board with the other Goddis, he had sipped than by chance somewhat more than enough. Now and if ye look to be instructed also of my birth place, in so much as now a days men think how the country where one is borne doth not a little impo●te towardis his nobility, ye shall understand that I was brought forth neither in floating Delos, as Apollo, nor amongis the waving seas, where Venus took her beginning, nor yet in hollow rocks under ground, as was the great god jupiter, but even amiddꝭ the Ilandꝭ, 
follies birth place.  which of their singular fertilitee and fruitfulness, are called Fortunatae, where as all things grow unsewed and untilled. In which isles neither labour, nor age, nor any manner sickness reigneth, nor in the fieldꝭ there do either Nettles, Thistles, Mallows, Brambles, Cockle, or such like baggage grow, 
Hereby is meant that those which are born to most wealth prove many times most fools  but in steed thereof Gylofloures, Roses, Lilies, Basile, Uiolettꝭ, and such sweet smelling herbs, as whilom grew in Adonis' gardens, do on all sides satisfy both the scent, and the sight. Thus borne in these delights, I began not my life with tears, but straightways smiled sweetly on my mother, an evident argument and token of good luck as these byrthlotters say. Further as concerning my bringing up, I am not envious that jupiter the great god had a goat to his fostress, 
follies nurses.  seeing two so pleasant Nymphs, as Drunkenness daughter unto Bacchus, & Rudeness the daughter of Pan were my nurses. Whom ye may see here also amongis my other women and handmaids about me. 
follies hand maids.  Whose names in case ye list to know, I am very well content to rehearse them unto you. For this maid truly, whom ye may behold with brows upcasted, looking ever as if she wondered at something, is called Self-love. This next her that fareth as if she flired upon you, and clappeth her handis together, is Adulation. This slouggerd, and drowsy head, is named Oblivion. This than that leaneth on her elbows, clasping her handis togethers, is called Lythernes'. This besides her with the Rose garland on her head, and all to perfumed with sweet savours, is cleped voluptuousness. This with the rolling and unsteadfast eyes, is Madness. This other with the slick skin, and fair fed body, is called Delicacy. As for these two Goddis, which ye may see also in the fellowship of my other train, the one is named Belichere, the other Soundslepe. Now if ye ask me, what stead these stand me to? I answer, that through the trusty aid of such a band as this is, I subdue all the world under my dominion, bearing empire over emperors themselves. Ye have heard me thus declare unto you my lineage, 
follies divine operation.  my education, and my family. but least now I might causeless seem to challenge the name of a Goddess, hearken ye therefore attentively, with how great commodities I endue both god and men, and how largely my power stretcheth. For and if a certain autour wrote not much amiss, how this was properly the office of a God, to do benefit to mortal men: further, if such have worthily been ascribed to the senate of the gods, as were first inventors of wine, of corn, and such ly●e commodities for your living: why should not I than rightfully be taken, and set tofore them all, who only am the giver of all things, to all men? For first (I axe) what may be sweeter or more dearer unto you, than is your life? but the original springe, and plantation of the same, whom should ye thank for, but me only? In as much as neither the spear of Pallas, ne yet the shield of jupiter called Aegis, is it, that engendereth mankind: but the self jupiter, father of the Goddis: and king of kings, who with his only beck, can shake all heaven, must lay down his threforked thunder, and also his grim countenance, wherewith when him listeth he can make all the Goddis to tremble, yea and like a player must disguise himself into an other parsonage, in case he would do the thing, that almost he always practiseth (which is) to get children. Again, amongis mortal men, the stoics, count themselves to be next the Goddis in perfection. 
wisdom and gravity in children getting serve not to purpose.  But bring me one, admit he be four, or five, or (if you list) six hundred times a Stoic, and yet must he lay down, if not his long beard, betokening wisdom, which natheles goats have also, at least (I say) lay aside his grave, and frowning look, he must calm, and explain his forehead, he must cast away those his yron-like lessons, and preceptis of doctrine, it is I, it is I (believe me) whom that wise and sage Stoic must have recourse unto, in case he would be a father. And why should I not comen more familiarly with you, according to my custom? I pray you, is it the head? the face? the breast? the hands? or the ears? which partis of the body are named honest, that engender gods, and men? I trow no. Nay, it is even that silly member, so fond, and foolish, as may not without laughter be spoken of, which is the only planter of mankind. That, is the only fountain, whence all things receive life, a great deal sooner than from Pythagoras' quaternion. As concerning the use whereof, who is he (suppose ye) would take in his mouth the snaffle of wedlock, 
Marriage, to proceed of Folly.  if (according as these wisemen are wont to do) he should first cast and reckon with himself ●he discommoditees of that trade of life? Or what woman would yield unto a man, if she either knew, or thought upon the perilous throws of childbearing, or travail of their bringing up? That and if ye own your lives to wedlock, and wedlock ye own to my damoisell Madness, now ye may soon guess, what ye own, and should refer to me. Than, who is she, that after one assay, would eftsoons venture childebearing, ●e were it not through the encouragement of Oblivion. No not Venus herself (what ever Lucretius writeth) will deny, but that her might in engendrure remaigueth void, and of small effect, without thaccess of mine aid. So that to conclude, I say how of this my drunken and ridiculous game, are procreate (omitting vulgar folk) both grave philosophers, whom such succeed now, as ye call monkis, and purpre princes, and holy priestis, and thrice holy bishops, at ones, all the whole rout of the Poetical Gods, so swarming, as scarce all heaven is able to contain them, be it never so large of room. 
Folly ground of the commodities of man's life.  But take it hardly for nothing that ye own thus unto me the very fountain, and springe of your life, in case what ever other commodities ye have therein, I do not prove them also to proceed of my goodness. For as touching this life here, may it worthily be called a life (I pray you) if ye take pleasure and delight away? do you nod upon me? well said: I wist there was none of you all so wise, or rather so foolysshe, nay wise sooner, as would be of any other opinion. How be it, even these sage stoics do not in deed, so greatly despise pleasure, as outwardly they dissemble, and afore folkis do bait her with a thousand repreves, to none other intent (I warrant you) save that when others are rated therefro, they than may more at libertee enjoy her, But I would they should tell me, what any part of this life there is, not heavy, not unpleasant, not urkesome, not unsavoury, unless ye put Pleasure, that is to say, the Saulce of Folly unto it? for proof whereof as I could allege the sufficient authority of Sophocles, whose noble sentence in my favour, is never enough praised, where he saith, that In knowing least, the blisfulst life is led. So I am content yet for your better instruction, to disclose every thing more particularly unto you.  
And first, 
Infancy, foolisshe.  who is he but will confess childhood, the first age of man, to be most gracious and acceptable unto all folkis? for else, what is it in young babes that we do kiss so, we do coll so, we do cherish so, that a very enemy is moved to spare and secure this age, unless it be the allurement of Folly? which, nature's circumspection, even purposedly, hath adioigned to children, to the end that with some reputation of pleasure, they might supple the travail of their bringers up, and provoke the benevolence of such as tend unto them. The next age than that succeedeth hereto, I mean Youth, 
Youth.  how acceptable (I pray you) is it to all folkis? how is each enelined to it? how willingly doth every wight set it forward? how diligently do all men put to their healping handis: And whereof (trow ye) proceedeth this grace of Youth, but of me only? through whose benefit, a young man knoweth least, and therefore taketh least thought. Take me for a liar, unless as soon as be waxeth elder, beginning through experience and disciplines to savour of Manhood, than in continent the flower of his beauty decayeth, his mirth fadethe, his grace waxeth cold, his strength diminisheth, so that the farther, and farther he is retired from me, the less, and less he liveth, until at last, tedious old age do creep upon him, not only urkesome to others, but hateful also to himself: which Old age (on my conscience) no mortal man would endure to bide out, if I again taking compassion at their so great labours and encumbrances, did not somewhat relieve the same. That like as these goods of the poets, are wont with some transformation or likeness turning, to secure men ready to perish, so I also (that in me lieth) do revoke such aged men as are at deaths door, and next the pit, back again unto childhood? Whereupon, not causeless, folkis call them twice children. 
Return of old age to childhood.  Now and if some would ask me how I do transform them so, I will not hide so much as that from you. For I bring them to the fountain of my maiden Oblivion, called Lethe's, which springeth in the Isles fortunate (for as for the other that runneth through the fields Elisiꝭ, is but a small branch of this former) to the end that as soon as they there have drunken long forgetfulness of things passed, they may, by little and little, washing away all the troubles and carefulnesses of the mind, become chilhisshe again. But some perhaps will object to me, and say, that such old men do dote now, and are passed their wittis. Yea, be as be may, yet this is even the plain recourse unto childbode. For is the same aught else (suppose you) than dotage, or ignorance? is it ought else in children that delighteth you, than their indiscretion? For who is he that would not eschew, and abhor, no less than a monster, a child being endued with manlike reason and capacity? Whereunto accordeth this common proverb, I hate the child, whose wit ripeneth before the time. Or who would gladly sustain to haunt, or keep company with that old man, who unto his so long practise, and experience in things, had added also like quickness of the mind, and like sharpness of discourse? Conclude therefore, that old age doteth through my benefit, and yet ye see how these my good dotardꝭ, shall in the mean while rest vacant and discharged of all such cares and anxieties, wherewith wisemen of fresher spirits are wrongen continually, & in the mean while become cherisshers each of other, 
Dotage in eld men.  by neyghbourly gossipping togethers, and table play, feeling no manner tediousness of this life, which scarce a livelier age suffereth, yea and sometime learn again to spell a, m, oh, as the old man of Plautus doth, most wretched, in case one yntch of sound wit remained in them, and yet through my procurement, most happy, being also dear, and welcome to their friendis, amongis other respectis, for this, that commonly they are very pleasant in company, and merrily bespoken. For in Homer ye may read, how out of Nestor's mouth there flowed words sweeter than honey, whereas Achilles language byted bitter. In Homer also, old men leaning over Troy walls put forth a swetedelyverid voice. As to which regard, theirs may be preferred before the very grace of infancy, which sure is much gracious, but yet partly disgraced, when it lacketh speech, and chatting, that are even the chiefest recreations of man's life. Add hereto, that old age joyeth much in children, and children likewise will ever be about oldefolkꝭ. Such is nature, in coupling like, and like together, for what other thing is there unlike betwixt them? save that Eld, is fuller of wrinkles, and noumbreth more years? Else, 
Old men like children.  their white hears, their totheles jaws, less proportion of their bodies, mylklonging, fumbling in the mouth, chatting, fondness, forgetfulness, rechelousnesse, for brief, all other conditions be of one degree, so that the nearer men approach to old age, the nearer return they to the form of childhood, till at last, even like children, no tediousness of life, nor sense of death felt, they depart out of this world. Can any of you compare now the other god transformations, with this of mine? who what they do i● way of displeasure, me listeth not to rehearse: But whom they most favour, and are pleased with, them (trow I) they are wont to change into trees, into fowls, into grasshoppers, ye or sometime into serpentis, as if it were not a certain kind of perishing to be altered so into a new likeness: whereas I reduce the self same man, to the best, and most pleasant part of all his life. That and if men had the grace to forbear quite from meddling with wisdom, leading forth all their life in my service, now (I ween) there should be no old age at all, but rather they should enjoy a most happy, and continual youth. 
Study and business hast forward age.  For see you not (I pray you) how these wisemen, who are given to philosophy, or some such earnest and grave study, do for the most part wax hoar, before they be fully young men? which undoubtedly cometh of cares, and incessant sharp traveling of the brain, by little and little soaking up the lively juice of the spirits: whereas my fools on the other side, be slick, and smooth skinned, yea and well trussed together, like hoglyngꝭ of Acarnania: such as never should feel (I warrant you) any discommoditee of age, ne were it not that sometime by chance, theine infected with the contagious company of wisemen. Such is the lot of man's life, suffering nothing on all partis to be blissful. And here I may bring in the approved authority of the proverb, which affirmeth Folly to be the only link, that stayeth fleeting youth, and keepeth of cumbrous age. Like as not causeless men say by the Brabanters, that whereas years make other people the wiser, they, the longer they live, are rooted the deeper in folly. Yet for all that, where find you any nation more jocund, or metre for the comen trade of living, or that less feeleth age's weight, than this doth? To whom as in country, so also in manners are my Hollanders next neighbours. For why should I stick to call them mine? Seeing they take my part so earnestly, as thereby they have gotten them my name for an addition, so little whereof they are ashamed, as they pass not to boast themselves in it. Let them that will now go, 
folly the pror●ger and delay of age.  and seek out, Medea, Circe's, Venus, Aurora, or I wot never what manner fountain, to have their youth restored, whereas I only am she that may, and use to do it. It is I that have that marvelous juice, wherewith Memnous' daughter prorogued the youth of her grandsire Tithonus. I am that Venus, through whose favour Phaon waxed young again, whom therefore Sappho so much loved. Mine be those herbs, if any such be, and mine be those charms, and mine is that fountain, that not only call youth back again, once being vanished, but also (which is more desyrable) doth conserve it everlasting. That and if ye all do subscribe to this opinion, how nothing is more pleasant than youth, and nothing more cumbresome than age, now (I trow) ye perceive how much ye are beholding to me, seeing I uphold to you so great a weal, so great an evil excluded. But what speak I yet of mortal men? search ye (hardly) all heaven, and who that list than scorn be my name, in case he find any of the god not crabbed, and dispisable, unless my influence do commend him. For why is my cousin Bacchus ever like a stripling, and fair bushed? 
Folly commandeth the Gods also.  Forsooth because like a witless and drunken companion, passing his time in bankettꝭ, dances, and places, he hath never thus much to do with Pallas goddess of wisdom. Finally, so little sette●o he to be holden wise, as the observance that he requireth at men's handis is nought but may-games, shrovyngꝭ, and such like fantsies. Neither is he offended with the proverb, calling him a fool, as, Foolissher than Morychus. For they call him Morychus because uplandisshe hobbes in sport are wont at bringing home of harvest, to besmere his image set before temple doors, with must, & green figs. And (lord) with what jests the writers of the old Comedies do taunt him? O fond God (say they) and worthy who should issue out of the groin of jupiter: Yet who would not rather chose, if choice were offered, to be such a fool, and popie as he is, being ever merry conceited, ever younglyke, ever provoking men to laughter with his sport and pleasantness, than jupiter himself, withal his deep dissembled cheer, looking so sternly, as giveth terror to the god also? Or Pan, who with his sudden fraimentꝭ and tumultꝭ, bringeth age over all things? Or Vulcanus the lymphault smith, full of smoke and embres, ever filthy with the toil that he endureth in his forge? or else Pallas my great adversary, being so much redoubted because she beareth spear, and shield: who ever showeth a pair of skouling eyes? But why (I pray you) is Cupid always like a young boy? why? but that he is a trifler, neither doing, nor thinking any wise act, I warrant you. Why hath Venus also her beauty ever alike flourisshing? why? but that she is sib unto me? even as her visage resembleth my father's colour, for Homer nameth her golden Aphroditis. So, she is ever smiling, if we credit the poetis, or their counterfaitours the peinters. Moreover, what god head did the Romans worship ever more religiously, than that of Flora the mother of all pleasures and solasses? How be it on the otherside, who so would narowlier search, and consider the manner of living, even of those sour and glomming gods, either out of Homer, or other poetis, he should find them (no fail) as foolish, and dissolute, as these. For what needeth me to allege meaner Goddis Follies? when all ye have at your finger's endꝭ, how great a lover thundering jupiter is? Also how grave Dame Diane forgetting womanhood, doth nought but hounte all day long, visiting by startꝭ yet her sweet heart Endymion? But as for me, I had liefer they should hear their faultis told them of Momus the god of Rephrehension, at whose handis so many times they have been taunted. Saving, that not long agone they threw down him and Atis, headlong togethers to the earth, because that ever with his wise saws and admonitions he seemed out of season to far against their felicity. Poor Momus therefore wandereth about like a vacabound, in as much as no mortal man will gladly vouchsafe him herbourough, for fear of jupiters' displeasure, much less that he can be received into princis courts, 
flattery familiar in princes courts.  for there my Adulation beareth the swinge, who agreeth no more with Momus, than lambs do with the wolf. So that since he is ones removed, the god above may now much franklier, and at more liberty play their pageauntꝭ, leading forth an easy life (as Homer saith) whereas no countroller dare call them to account. For (Lord) the sport that Priapus the great tooled god maketh them? what pastime have they at Mercurius, with his theft, and juggling. Not so much as Vulcan, but when the gods are set at banquet, he playeth the jester, now with his lymphaulting, now with his skoffing, and now with his overthwart woordis, to provoke them all to laughter. Than cometh Silenus that horeheadded lover, treading the hornpipe, with Poliphemus boisteously stamping, and the Nymphs tripping barefooted, The satires half goats dancing the Antikes, And Pan with his oaten flute singing some rural song, doth wondrously delight them, as whom, at that time, they had rather hear, than the Muse's themselves: chiefly, when they begin to be thoroughly chafed with their Nectar drink but what should I tell you of that the god do after such compotations? things so foolish, as I myself can scant refreine from laughter. It is best therefore that herein I remember Harpocrares for his silence, lest some evisdropper god, do hearken me blabbing forth such things of them, as not Momus himself spoke ever unpunished. So now it is time, that (following Homer's example) I leave the god above, and make return to the earth, to discuss, how nothing here is either gladsome, or desirable, 
Folly natural to man kind.  unless the same begin at me. For first, ye see with how great providence, Nature the foundress of mankind hath forecast, that no where, in any part of man's life the saulce of Folly should be wanted. For if wisdom, according to the stoics definition, is nought else, than to be ruled by reason: and folly, to be led as affection will. Consider now (I pray you) how much more Affection, than Reason, jupiter hath put in men, to the end their life should not altogethers be heavy, and unpleasant. As if ye should compare an ounce to a pound. Furthermore, he shut up Reason within the narrow compass of man's head, leaving all the rest of the body to affections: setting also, two most violent tyrants against her, that is to say, Anger, reigning in the fortress of the heart: and concupiscence, which even to the lowest part of the belly, doth occupy a large possession. Against these two so strong champions, how much Reason may resist, the comen trade of men's lives declareth sufficiently. That whereas Reason, as much as lieth in her, doth cry against them, ●uin till she be hoarse, alleageing what honesty will, & requireth, yet deign not they to obey, but much more furiously done repine at her, till at last she also, being wearied, is feign to yield for vanquished. But in so much as to man, borne to govern, and rule, jupiter thought it meat to distribute Reason somewhat in a larger assize, to the end yet he might partly allay the excess, he called me (as he is wont) amongis the other god to counsel: 
jupiter called Folly to counsel.  and by and by I gave him advise like myself, that a woman should be associate unto him. 
Folly of women.  A creature (god knoweth) both foolish, and unwitty, but natheless pleasant, and gracious. To the end that through daily company, and dwelling together, she with her Folly might release, and make doulcet the sadness of man's courage. For where Plato seemeth to doubt, whether he should put a woman amongis reasonable, or unreasonable creatures, it was no more, but to show and express the notable Folly of that sex: So that if any woman studieth to be counted wise, she doth nought else but labour to be twice foolish, as if ye would force a cow against her nature to scape through a hoop. For the fault is doubled, when so ever one against kind, would counterfeit a gloss of virtue, to writhe the mind otherwise than of nature it plieth. According as the greek proverb saith, An ape, is an ape, be she clothed in purpre, so a woman is a woman (that is to say) a fool, what so ever part she play. Yet I think not that women are so very fools, to be angry with me herefore, 
What commodities women have by Folly,  that I being Folly herself, and a woman also, do arrect Folly unto them. For and if they way all things indifferently, they shall soon perceive, how much I am to be thanked, that for many respectis they are far happier, than men be. first, for their beauty's sake, beauty (I say) which not without good cause is had in so great price by them, as under whose shield and protection, they do exercise tyranny, yea over tyrants themselves. For else, whence cometh to men that sternes of their visages, roughness of skin, and thickness of their beards, being a very representation of oldness, saving of the excess, or rather disease of wisdom? whereas women with their smooth cheeks, small voices, and five skins, do ever show a certain youthlikenesse. Again, what is it in this life that women sooner covet, than to be belyked of men? Tend not (trow ye) to this effect, so many their attires? so many peinctyngꝭ, so many bathyngꝭ? so many hear curlyngꝭ, so many glisshes? so many perfumes? so many ways of nice simpering, nicer smiling, nycest going, be it but on an yntch of leather, and all to set theim selfes forth to the show? Further, what greater privilege have women over men, than their foolisshenesse? For what is it, that men permit not as lawful, or at least to be borne with, in women? but under what other title, than of delectation? But how do they delight men, saving with their Folly? This to be true, can not be denied, who so will consider with himself, what fond talk and devices, a man is feign to find out, as often as he intendeth to take fruition and pleasure of a woman. And thus I have declared you from what springe the first and chiefest recreation of this your life is derived. 
Folly of sea ●●les and banquets.  But yet some persons there be, namely old men, rather good maltwormes, than women haunters, who contrary to my supposition will put their greatest felicity in tippling, and good fate. As touching which point, I refer it to others judgement if any feast or banquet be made in the right kind, unless women are at the same. But of this I am sure, how without the savice of Folly, no banquet can be to the sum. In sort that there want one, who with his own, or counterfeit Folly, may stir the gestis to laughter, than strait is some jester, or other mad knave sent for, with his bald and foolish scoffs, to put away the sad stillness of the feast. For else, what booted so many ionkettꝭ, sweet meats, and daintries to balace the bely withal, unless the eyes, the ears, and the whole mind, were also fed with laughter, sport, and merry conceits? But of all such knacks I am the only devisor, like as this, that now is solemnly taken up at banquets, to choose a king by lots, to play at tables, to bring good luck, to quasse about the board, to sing carosses; with such like observances, was never ordained by the seven sages of Grece, but through mine invention, for the conservation, and avail of mankind. Yet mark you the nature of all such devices, and ye shall see, that the more folly they smell of, the more they do profit the life of mortal men. Which life, in case it be overwaied with sadness, than sure it scantly deserveth the name of life. And sad must it needs be, vules with some kind of pastime ye wipe away tediousness, next cousin to the other. 
Folly an●our of friendship;  Now some perchance there are, who little will esteem this kind of pleasure also, but rather rest wholly on the league and acquaiutance of one friend with an other. Affirming friendship to be the only thing, which should be sought and embraced before all the other commodities of your life, being (say they) so necessary, and behovablr, as neither air, not fire, nor water may be more requisite unto men● and thereto so appropriately annexed, as the sons heat may as soon as friendship be spared amongis you: and besides this so honest a thing (if honesty as you think make aught to purpose) as not the philosopher's themselves do stick to put friendship even amongis the chiefest weals of this life. But what will ye say now, if I can prove myself to be both crop, & root, of this so great a benefit? Prove it to you (I say) neither with Barbara, nor Celerent, nor any such Dialectical quaint subtiltes, but eviu of the plainest and bluntest fashion, point you to it, as it were with my finger? first therefore when you see a man flatter, dissemble, or wink at his friendis faultis, yea, and sometime own favour, or rather wonder at some great vices of his, taking them for virtues: do you not count him (I pray you) next sib to a fool?  
What if an other take some deformity that his semman hath, for a great grace, or a father, whose child is squynt eyed, calleth him natheless his pretty pinkeied boy, is not this (trow ye) plain folly? 
folly the glue of friendship.  Let sages cry again and again, that it is folly, yet this same folly is the glue that souldreth, and interteigneth friendis together. I speak of mortal men, of whom none liveth without some faultis. So that, he may well be holden for the best, that is cumbered with the smallest. Whereas amongis these Goddis of wisdom, either no friendship can fasten at all, or if it do, yet is it but a frowning, and an unpleasant friendship, and such, as taketh place amongis very few of them. for it were to sore to say amongis none, seeing the most part of men do overshoot themselves: yea, if I said all, I might abide by it, so many sundry ways is every wight subject unto Folly. And friendship is never properly knit, but between men of equal estate and condition. That admit sometime a manner amity is so kindled between these wisemen: god knoweth yet how short a life, and continuance it shall be of, namely amongis so wayward 
waywardness in friendship.  faultfinders, as commonly such sages are, being ever ready to find an hole, and casting as sharp an eye upon their friends faults, as an Eagle doth upon her pray. But (Lord) for all that how purblind are they in their own? not ones looking back at the satchel hanging behind them. In as much than as the nature of men is such, that no wit may be found, not limed with some great vices, in case ye add thereto the diverseness both of men's inclinations, and ages, together with so many oversights, so many errors, and changing chances, as this mortal life is disposed to, now I see not how the fruit of friendship's pleasantness should one half hour be conferued between so narrow discussers of things, unless the remedy of forbearing 
Forbearing.  one an other, which also in Greek, is as much to say, as Folly were added for a stay and maintenance of the same. But what say ye? Cupid himself the god of all love and friendship, 
The god of love blind.  is he not blind? to whom as oftentimes not fair things seem fair, so likewise amongis you he bringeth to pass, that each doth think his own bird fairest, and like will ever cleave to like. Now though we see, how commonly these things are done, and commonly laughed to shorn, yet such fondness is it that souldreth, & holdeth a pleasant fellowship of life atwixe you. Further, what I have said by friendship, much more may I say by marriage. Which is to say, an inseparable conjunction of man and woman. But (Lord) what divorcements, or inconueniencꝭ worse than divorsementꝭ would not commonly happen, in case their daily society, and dwelling togethers, were not now with flattery, now with dalliance, now with sport, with forbearing, with error, with dissembling (all of my guard I warrant you) both propped up, and nourished? Good lord, how few spowsailes should go through, in case the wooer wisely afore hand did bolt out, what wanton partis the tender, and to his seeming, shamefast maiden hath played long afore he knew it? Further, how few marriages once solemnized, should continue in force: unless the most part of the wives pageantꝭ were cloaked, either through her husbands negligence, or doltisshenesse? All this, and worthily, is arrected to Folly. Yet doth this folly make the wife to be cherished of her husband, the husband likewise of his wife, their house to be quiet, and thaffinity between their friendis to remain. The cokeholde witolde, or what other name ye list to give him, is laughed to scorn, when with his lips he sucketh in the tears of his scant honest wife. Yea good enough. How much better shall he find it to be deceived so, than thorough jealousy to fret himself, and set all things on a roar. For short conclusion (I say) so much lacketh that any manner friendship, society of life, 
No society of life without Folly.  or companying together, may with out mine access be pleasant, or long lifed, as not the people would long bear their ruler, nor a servant his master, a maid her masters, a scholar his teacher, a friend his friend, the husband his wife, a lender the hirer, a chamberfelow his chamberfelow, nor a bourdmate, his bourdmate, unless by turns atwixe them selves they should sometime err, sometime flatter, sometimes wink for the nonce, & now & than comfort their bittred taste with some honey of foolisshenesse. These things (I wot well) seem right marvelous unto you, but give me leave a little, and ye shall hear further.  
I pray you, can he love any body, 
None acceptable to himself without Folly.  that loveth not himself? can he agree with any body, that discordeth with himself? May he please others, that is displeasant, and tedious to himself? But setting me aside, so much lacketh, that any man can abide or bear what others do, as ye shall see him fallout with himself, mislike what so ever he doth, and be his own hater. For nature not in few poinctꝭ rather a stepdame than a mother, hath graffed this evil property in men's headis, namely theirthat are skilfuller, that ever they despise what quality is their own, and set more by that they see in others. Whereby it comes to pass, that all the gifts, and graces, of this life, are quite lost and defaced. For what availeth beauty? beauty (I say) the very chiefest gift that the immortal Goddis do give here, if he that hath it, reketh not of it? Or what availeth youth? If it be drowned with the levaine of door sadness. Finally in any manner trade of life, what can a man go about to do seemly, and with a good grace, either by himself or afore others (as in derde, to express and set a thing forth lively, is not only the chiefest point of cunning, but also the very head of any thing put in ure) if this my damoisell Self-love 
Self-love.  be not his advancer, whom worthily I hold therefore in steed of my sister: so busily she travaileth to my behalf in every place. And what can be more folly, than one to like himself, & stand in his own conceit? but than again, what thing can be proper, or becoming, or well done, in case the doer of the same misliketh himself in it? So that take away this saulce of Selfliking, which is even the very release of man's life and doings, and by and by ye shall see the Orator cold in his matter, the Musici●n misliked withal his discant, the Player hissed out of the place, the Poet and his muses laughed to scorn, the Peincter and his art nought set by, the Phisicien for all his medicines walk an hungered, briefly, this set a side, he that seemed beautiful Nireus, shall appear to be more ugly and misfavoured than Thersites, in stead of fair Phaon, as hoar and wrincled as Nestor was, for Minerva, a sow (as the proverb saith) for an eloquent speaker, the foulest stammerer in a country, and for a courtlyke fellow, the rudest hob that may be picked from the plough. So behovable is it (lo) that every man do clap himself on the back, and with some flattery be commendable to himself, ere he can be commended of others. Finally whereas it is the greatest part of felicity, for a man to desire to be, as he is in deed, that doth Self-love procure you by a readier way. For no man, how ever vile he be, will so despair in himself, 
Eacheman through folly standeth in self-conceit.  as utterly to mislike either his wit, his kindred, dwelling place, occupation, or country. As an Irissheman would not change his nation with an Italian, nor a Turk with an Athenyen, nor yet a Tartar with the very Isles of Fortune: which so being, how singular than is nature's providence (trow ye) in so great varieree of things, to make them all yet of a like proportion? as to whom she hath been somewhat scarce in other gifts, there she putteth a little more selfliking, but this I spoke not very circumspectly, seeing the same selfliking, may worthily be esteemed for the greatest gift of all. 
Folly auto● of all noble acts and artes●  Here now I reck not much, to pass over untouched, how no manner act, or noble deed was ever attempted, nor any art or science invented, other, than of which I might fully be holden first author. 
War.  For as touching war, the very head and springe of all great enterprises, which so commonly are praised, and enroled by historiens, is it not (trow ye) a foolish practise, to begin such variance, as ever both parties receive more damage than profit by? (for of those that leave their carcases in the field, as did the Megarensiens', never count is made) But yet, when armies join together, and trumpettꝭ blow up bloody notes, to what stead I pray you can these good father Sages serve? who soaked up with long study, lean, and cold of blood, may scantly draw their wind? Nay than must fat and lusty blouddꝭ do the feat, having boldness with the most, and wit with the least unless perchance some would choose such a soldier as was Demosthenes, who following Archilocus the poets read, scarce looking his enemies in the face, threw down his shield and tan away, as cowardly a warrior, as he was a wise orator. But Counsel in wars (say they) is of great importance, and as for that I stick not much, that counsel in a captain is requisite, so it be warlike, and not philosophical. For commonly they that bring any valiant feat to pass, are good bloods, ventures, companions, swasshes, dispatchers, bankrowtes, with such like, and none of these Philosopher's candle wasters. Who how unmeet they be to serve for any comen affair, or purpose amongis men, we may be taught by the example of Socrates himself, the only wiseman, but unwisely judged by Apollo's oracle. That whereas on a time he went about to have said his mind in a certain matter to the commons of Athenes, he left of suddenly, being all to laughed to scorn. How be it this Socrates, as in one point (me seemeth) was not all wide, in that he would not take upon him the name of a wiseman, but rather ascribed the same unto god only, and thought it best for a wiseman not to busy himself or meddle with matters of the comen weal, unless perhaps he might have said more rightly, that who so would be taken amongis the number of men, should not meddle to much with wisdom. For I pray you, what drove Socrates upon his arraignment, to drink poison, for the death he was condemned to, saving only that his excellent, that his goodly quality of wisdom? Because, whiles whole days together he trifled out the time, in disputations upon the clouds, upon Idees, and by geometry pained himself to meat a flies foot, discussing also how a gnat, being so little a vermin, might yield so great a sound, he never applied himself to learn things pertaining to this comen trade of life. But now cometh Plato his disciple to defend his master at the bar: a gay Advocate (I promise you) who being offended with the noise of the people throunging about him, could scant make an end of the first clause of his tale. And what say you by Theophrastus? who taking upon him to speak unto a great assembly, 
wisemen dastards, either to fight, or speak in a press,  as soon as he stood up, by and by could say never a word, as if he had seen a wolf at unwares: and how should he than have encouraged soldiers to fight? Or else Isocrates? Who of a certain natural timorousness, durst never afore audience open his lips? Marcus Tullius, the father of Roman eloquence, ever with an unseemly trembling began his orations, as it were a sobbing child, which Quintilian interpreteth to be the sign of a ware and wise Orator, who pondered well the weightiness of his matter. But when he saith so, doth he not plainly confess, wisdom to be an obstacle against any bold feat. For what will such shrimpies she bodies do (trow ye) when it cometh to handstrokes, that are almost dead for fear, when they strive but with bare woordis? And yet after all this (on god name) is that worthy saw of Plato much commended, how those comen weals most happily should flourish, that were governed by philosophers, or whose governors applied themselves to philosophy. No no, if ye look in histories, ye shall find, no rulers were evemore pestilent to a comen weal, than if the same at any time fell into the handis of such one, as was given to any scet of philosophy. For proof whereof, I allege unto you the two caton's, th'one whereof, with his heady and frantic accusations, disturbed greatly the quiet of Rome city: the other, in going about over wisely to protect the same, did utterly subvert it. And join ye hardly to them both Brutus and Cassius, with the two Gracchi, yea and Cicero himself, for as pestilent a citesein amongis the Romans, as Demosthenes was to the athenians comen weal.  
Likewise, whattrowye by Marcus Aurelius? I admit he was a good emperor, and yet could I wrest that praise also from him, because his to much philosophership made him odious and hateful to the people. But admit (I say) he was good, yet truly more pervicious was he to the comen weal, in leaving so ungracious an imp, as Comodus was, for successor in his state, than ever he was profitable through his own good wealding of the same. 
wisemen's children commonly ●ooles.  For commonly this kind of men, that are bookisshe, and give themselves to such peevish disciplines, like as in other things, so also in children getting have very ill luck, as if nature of piety (I ween) provided that this plague, this disease (I say) of wisdom, should not spread over largely amongis men. So Cicero had a son, far unlike him in conditions. And Socrates, that wise wiseman had children, lyker to their mother than their father, As one writeth merrily, that is to say, they were fools. Now though these wisemen be as unapt for all public offices and affairs, 
wisemen unfit for any function of this life.  as an ass is to finger an harp, yet might it soso be abidden, if they were not also as untoward in any private duty pertaining to this life. For bid once one of these sages to dinner, and either with his silent glomming, or his dark and eluisshe problems he will trouble all the board. Desire him to take handis in a bralle, ye will safe a Camel danceth. Bring him to a midsummer watch, or a stage play, and even with his very look he will seem to disdain the people's pastime, so that wise dan Cato must be feign to avoid the place, because he can not forbear his frowning. Let him light on a knot of good company talking merrily, and by and by every might holdꝭ his peace. If he must buy any thing, make a bargain, or briefly do aught of those things, without which this comen life can not be led, then sooner will ye take him for a block, than a reasonable creature. So much lacketh (●oe) that he may stand his countrei, or his friendis in profitable steed, who neither is skilled in things daily enured, and much differeth from the comen opinion, and manners of the other people. Per consequent whereof, 
wisdom breedeth hatred.  he must needs deserve their hatred and displeasure, through the great diversity of livings, and dispositions at wixe them. For and if ye list to judge indifferently, is there ought do here amongis mortal men not full of folly, both by fools, and afore fools? So that if one only wight would take upon him to kick against all the rest, him would I advise, that (as Timon did) he should shrink into some desert, there to enjoy his wisdom to himself.  
But to return to my former purpose (I axe you) what manner charm it was, 
folly the founder of states and comen weals.  that induced those ancient sto●y, wooden, and rude men in the worldis first age (as poetis feigue) dispersed so a broad, to live together in cities, but only Adulation 
Adulation.  or glozing speech? For what do poets else signify by that sweetetuned harp of Amphion and Orpheus? What thing also revoked the comminaltee of Rome, rebelling against the Senate, to agreement? was it any Philosophical oration? No forsooth. What than? Euin a foolish Aesopes' fable feigned of the beasie, and the other limbs of man's body.  
Like as Themistocles persuaded the athenians by his tale of the fox and the hedgehog: Could any wise man's oration (trow ye) have induced those wild and Salvage Spaniardꝭ to such a conformitee, and obedience, as did Sertorius their wily captain, under colour of Religion, and that devise of his white hind? Or as Lycurgus alured the Spartans through the example showed them of the two doggis? with also that other fond devise of Sertorius making two horse tails to be plucked at? I let pass Minos, and Numa, each of whom with feigned fairy inventions bleared the gross multitudes eyes: For ye must think that such like toys as these, are the liveliest and most pithy persuasions, that the mighty madbeast the communaltee can be moved with: Whereas hitherto was never city or comen weal, that would be governed by Plato's or Aristotle's laws, no more than any nation hath followed those glorious rules and institutes of living, that Socrates set forth. But I pray you, what provoked both the Decians willingly to bequeatheth themselves to the Infernal Gods? And likewise egged Quint Curtius to cast himself into the great cave and swallow of the ground, that whilom opened in the marcatsteede of Rome, 
Mainglory  saving only Vainglory? Vainglory (I say) that most fair, and sweet baited Mermaid, but (lord) how wondrously yet condemned by these sages? For what can be a more fond part (say they) than ambitiously, as in comen weals is used, A man to go, and faun on him, and him, for their voices? or with making comen gifts and distributions to buy the people's favour? highly magnifying himself, when the people crieth a largesse on him? When also like a pageant, or spectacle prepared for the people's eyes, he rides about in triumph, crowned with sawrer? having his image for a memory of the fact set up in the marcatsteede, with much curious entitling of his names, surnames, bynames, and office names, besides the immortal, and godly honours, that are thereupon decreed, to so mean and poor a caitive as he is, least deserving them, as not seldom the veriest tyrants' that ever reigned, have natheless with public ceremonies been cannonised into the numbered of the gods. These are things as foolish as can be, to laugh whereat one Democritus suffisethe not. And yet, even of this spring of Vainglory come all your worthy conquerors acts, and famous feats, which with the style of so many eloquent writers are extolled up to heaven. This very branch of Folly buildeth cities, foundeth states, headrulers, religions, counsel mates, iudgementis, and briefly all the deeds & life of mortal men, is nought else than a certain great play of Folly. How what I have said hereby, 
Folly inven tress of sciences.  aswell I may say by arts and sciences. For whatels hath provoked men's wittis to seek out and disclose to their posteriours so many goodly disciplines (as they take them) saving only an ardent thirst of glory? Such is the appetite of foolish men, with so great travails, watching, and sweating at the brows, to recover a little, I worre near what Fame, which either is nothing, or nothing is more vain than it. But in the mean while, ye ought to con me thank, for such, and so many commodities, as they have found out towardis the better state of your life. And that (which is most sweet of all) ye do peruse the fruit of other men's madness: Than sir, seeing I have this challenged unto me the praise of fortitude, and of industriousness, what if I claim Prudence also? 
●●rie prudence to come of fo●e,  perhaps some will say, as soon might I go about to mingle fire and water. But for all that I hope to bring it to pass, if as hitherto you have done, ye vouchsafe me your ears, and attentiveness. And first of all, if Prudence consisteth in long practise and experience of things. unto whether of these may the honour of that name better square? Either to this wiseman, who partly for shame, and partly for dastardness of heart, attempteth nothing, or else that fool, whom neither shame, being shameless, nor petal, being reckeles, may fear from proving any thing. A wiseman reportꝭ himself to his books, and there learneth nought but mere trifling distinctions of woordis. A tool in ieoparding, and going presently where things are to be known, 
Fools judge right liar than wisemen.  gathereth (unless I am deceived) the perfect true prudence. Which Homer seemeth, notwithstanding his blindness to have seen, when he said thus, A fool knoweth the thing, that is ones done. For there be two strong lets against such knowledge of things to be gathered, that is to say, shame and dread: shame, that castꝭ a mist before men's myndis: and dread, that showing the pertiles, discounsaileth men from venturing any enterprises. But I Folly may, and am wont to wipe those lets clean away. Yea, few men consider, how many ways else it availeth to blousshe at nothing, and dare do●e every thing. But now (lo) and if ye take prudence after the rate, as when it testeth in judgement and discourse of things, hearken ye (I pray you) how far they are wide thereof, who do make it their chiefest profession. For first it is not unknown, how all humane things like the Silenes or double images of Ascibiades, have two faces much unlike and dissemblable, 
The S●●nes of Alcibiades.  that what outwardly seemed death, yet looking within ye should find it life: and on the other side what seemed life, to be death: what fair, to be foul: what rich, beggarly: what cunning, rude: what strong, feeble: what noble, vile: what gladsome, sad: what happy, unlucky: what friendly, unfriendly: what health some, noisome. Briefly the Silene once being undone and disclosed, ye shall find all things turned into a new semblance. If these woordis to some seem spoken to clerkly, go to, I will expound them more plainly. I pray you, who is he that confesseth not a prince to be both rich, and a great lord? but set case he hath no good qualities of the mind, nor with all those gooddꝭ he hath, can be satisfied: now is he not rich, but poorst than the poorest. Than again admit he begevin to sundry vices: now is he no lord, but more subject than a servant: and after this rate may ye scan also the others. But this is enough for example. Now it may be, ye muse what I mean hereby, but give me leave yet a little further. If one at a solemn stage play, would take upon him to pluck of the players garments, whiles they were saying their parts, and so disciphre unto the lookers on, the true and native faces of each of the players, should he not (trow ye) mar all the matter? and well deserve for a madman to be peltid out of the place with stones? ye should see yet straightways a new transmutation in things: that who before played the woman, should then appear to be a man: who seemed youth, should, show his hoar hears: who countrefaited the king, should turn to a rascal, and who played god almighty, 
Error availing.  should become a cobbler as he was before. Yet take away this error, and as soon take away all togethers, in as much as the feigning and counterfeiting is it, that so delighteth the beholders. So likewise, all this life of mortal men, 
This world a stage play of Folly.  what is it else, but a certain kind of stage play? whereas men come forth disguised one in one array, an other in an other, each playing his part, till at last the maker of the play, or bokebearer causeth them to avoid the scaffold, and yet sometime maketh one man come in, two or three times, with sundry parts and appara●e, as who before represented a king, being clothed al●●t purpre, having no more but shifted himself a little, should show himself again like an woobegon miser. And all this is done under a certain veil or shadow, which taken away once, the play can no more be played. Here now if one of these wisemen, come (A we●e) from heaven, did suddenly appear, and say, frowe even this great prince, whom all men honour as their god and sovereign, deserveth scarce to be called man, seeing like the brute beasts, be is trained by affections, and is none other than a servant of the basest sort, seeing willingly he obeith so many, and so 'vise vices his masters. Or than again, would bid some other, who mourned for his fathers or friends decease, rather to laugh, and he merry, because such dying to this world is the beginning of a better life, whereas this here, is but a manner death as it were. Furthermore, would call an other glorying in his arms and ancestry, both a villain, and a bastard, because he is so many discentes disalied from virtue, which is the only root of true nobility. And in such like sort would rail upon all the rest. I pray you, what should he prevail thereby, but make men take him for frantic & distraught? For surely as nothing can be more foolish than wisdom out of place, so is nothing more fond than prudence out of season. And doth he not out of season (trow ye) that plieth not himself as the world goeth? nor will not take the market as it riseth? nor at least remember the law of quassing, Other drink thy drink, or rise, and go thy way? On the other side, it is a very wysemans' part to covet to know nothing beyond his bandis, and either as the whole multitude of other men do, to dissemble gladly, or to err, and be deceived with the most. But even this is Folly (say they). And in good faith I will not much deny it, upon condition again they grant me, that to dissemble, or err so, is the right playing of the pageantꝭ of this life.  
But (Lord) a thing now is come to my remembrance, shall I speak it, or keep it in? and why should I keep it in, sins it is truer than truth itself? but it is best for me in so weighty a matter as it is, to pray the Muses in mine aid, whom poets call upon oftentimes for the veriest trifles they writ. Come ye bithes therefore a little ye ●oues daughters, 
folly the guide unto Sapience.  whiles I prove that no man can attain unto that excellent. Sapience, the very castle (as they name it) of felicity, unless I Folly be their guide and leader. Inprimis, I take it for all ready granted, that all the affections of man, pertain unto Folly. In as much as philosophers put this distinction between a myseman, and a fool, that the one is led by reason, 
The dissetence between a fool and a wiseman.  the other by sensuality. and therefore do the stoics seclude all affections from a wiseman, as so many diseases of the mind. But that notwithstanding, these affections are not only set in steed of pilottꝭ to such as would recover the port of wisdom, but also in any act of virtue, are like certain prickꝭ, or incitations provoking a man to do well. How ever in this point the Archestoike Seneca strongly againsaieth me, who in no wise will a wiseman should have any manner affection in him, but when he taketh that away, he leaveth man, no man, but rather a new-found god without bodily sense, such as never was, nor never shall be. Yea, to speak plainlier, he doth nought else than form a stone image of a man, without feeling, or any manner inclination pertaining to a man in deed. Let the stoics therefore (if they list) take their wiseman to theim selfes, and make much on him alone, or (if they think good) go and dwell with him in Plato's city, or in the land of Fairy, or Utopia. For which of you would not loath, and bliss you from the company of such mance a man, as were mortified, and benumbed in all those sensis and understandings, that naturally other men are led by? that had no affections reigning in him? nor would no more be stirred with love, or compassion, than if he were a flint stone? that in nothing could evershoote himself, but rather like Argus see, and cast all things to the uttermost? forgive no man? be only pleased with himself? 
The description of a wiseman.  esteem himself only to be rich? only to be a king? only to be a freeman? briefly, only all things, but in his own conceit only? that cared for no friends? friend himself to no man? Would not stick to defy the Gods? and what so ever is done of other men in this present life, to laugh at it and despise it, as a very madness? Yet such a manner quaint beast is this complete wiseman of theirs. I pray you, if the choice went by voices, what city would have such a governor? What army such a captain? nay what woman would desire such an husband? or who would bid such a gest to his house? or what servant pike him out, or continue with a master of so monstrous conditions? On the other side, who would not sooner prefer any one chosen even amongs the thickest of the people? who being a fool, could aptly either govern, or obey fools, please the minds of such as be like unto him, which is the most part, be treatable to his wife, gladly seen of his friends, mearie in company, and lastly would think nothing unbecoming him, that other men use commonly to do. But I ween, ye be weary now of this their wiseman, as I, for my part, was a good while ago. Let us pass therefore over to some other matter. Admit than, some one, 
Only Folly relieveth the miseries of this life.  (as the poets feign by jupiter) should out of an high high place behold and see in how many miseries man's life is wrapped, how wretched and vile his birth is, how hard his bringing up, how weak and puling his childhood, how travailsome his youth, how heavy his age, and last how fearful his death were. Further, during all his life, what bandis of sicknesses do assail him, what narrow chauncꝭ hang over his head, what displeasures come upon him, how in all things he findeth more gall than honey, besides the miuries which one of you scourgeth an other withal, as poverty, enprisonment, worldly shame, rebuking, racking, guile, treason, slander, dissension, deceit (but now I go about to tell the gravel of the sea) that for what offencꝭ men deserved such miseries, or what god being their heavy lord, condemned them to lead their lives so pestered and plunged in the same, ye shall pardon me, from expressing, as not leeful for me at this present to utter unto you. but who so should (I say) consider all these things accordingly, might it not move him to approve the example, and deed of the virgins of Milesia, be it never so piteous to rehearse? For ye shall understand, that willingly, upon no apparent cause why, they all hung themselves. But seeing we chance to speak of voluntary death, I axe you, who were those, that for tediousness of this life, did rathest prevent death with their own hands?  
Were they not such as bordered nearest upon wisdom? amongis whom (to let pass Diogenes, Xenocrates, Cato, Cassius, Brutus, and such like) Chiron, the wise Centaur, having grant of the god, to live ever (so liking him) in their state of immortality, would none of it, but chose rather to die. Ye may see therefore what inconvenience should ensue, if men were commonly wise. So that we had need of a new Prometheus, a new mould, and a new earth, to make men of, unless I partly through ignorance, partly through unreckefulnesse, not seldom through oblivion of peines passed, sometime through hope of better fortune, yea and now and than savouring their bittred taste with a little honey of pleasure, did not in so manifold evillꝭ relieve and secure them. In sort, that loath they are to die yet, 
Old men desirous to live yet.  though the fatal spyndell of their life being ton out and expired, Charon's boat hath more than quarter ebb tarried for their passage hence. So that how less cause they have, why they should live, yet so much leefer is life unto them, not that they feel any cumbrance of the same. For it proceedeth of my goodness (I warrant you) that commonly ye see old men, of so door and trembling age, as scant the figure of a man remaineth unto them, being both fumblers, dotards, totheles, griselles, bald, (or rather to descrive them by Aristophanes' terms) Nasty, crokebackt, wrincled, totheshaken, and lame of their best limb (which for womanhood ● name not) so desirous yet of life, and so coltishe, as some one of them will die his white hears, and shave himself twice a day: an other will deck his bald crown with a peruke: an other set new teeth in his head, taken perhaps out of some hoggꝭ chaps: an other fall in love with some young pygꝭnie, using more fondness in such kind of dalliance than any youngman would. For as touching such deaths debtors, and very Graveporers, as even at their last cast wed young wenches undowed, but metre to serve other men's turns than theirs, that is a thing so commonly had in use, as in a manner now it is arrected for a great praise and charitable kindness unto them. But this is nothing, in comparison of the pleasant spectacle, which ye may have at many of these old women, 
Oldwomen  who being never so much palled with long age, yea and so carcaslyke, as if they had lately come from deaths Court, will ever yet have this proverb in their mouths (life is life) still play the wantoness, and still be tupping. Or at lest hire some young Phaon for meed to do the thing, still daub their lither cheeks with peiuting, never go from the glass, show out their flaggie and pendant duggꝭ, provoke their stay nature with hot restoritives, sit up at banquets, dance gali●●dꝭ write loveletters. etc. These things are mocked commonly, for the greatest follies (without question) that may be. But yet do these my oldgurles not a little like themselves herein, taking it for a singular and only delight, as if they swam up to the chins in a sea of honey, wherein who but I doth uphold them? and yet these dainty wisemen for all their scornfulness, I would they should no more but perpend thus with themselves, whither it be better through such folly to lead a sugared life, or else standing ever upon narrow poynctꝭ of wisdom, to seek (as a man would say) an halter to hang withal? For how so ever such foolisshe pranks are thought to breed an evil name, I pray you, what matter is that to my fools, who either feel not what the inconvenience of an ill report meaneth, or if they feel it can so little set by it, and easily pass it over? If a millstone fall upon thy head, that is an evil in deed; but as for shame, reproach, loss of reputation, or evil speech, these may do the as much hurt as thou felist them: that and if thou felist them not, than are they no evils at all. For what hurteth thee, the proples' hissing, as long as thou clappest thyself on the back? yet who hath the grace to do so unless I Folly do arm him thereto? But now (me thinkꝭ) I have the philosophers once more in my top. For that is (say they) even the greatest misery of all, to be blinded so with Folly, to err so, to be deceived so, to be ignorant so. Nay verilier, that is it to be a man. And yet I see not why they should call you miserable therefore, in as much as ye be borne so, ye be ordained so, and made so, and such is the comen destiney lotted to every of you. For nothing may properly be called miserable 
Miserable it is not that agreeth with Nature.  that agreeth with the kind it cometh of, unless perchance some would think a man's nature were to be lamented, because he can not fly as birds do, nor go on all four as other beasts do, nor fence him with his horns as bulls do. But than by like argument, why call they not a fair horse miserable: because he never learned grammar? or eateth no rostmeate? or else a buile unhappy, because he is not shapen to throw the bar? Ergo, as an horse, who can not his grammar, is not wretched, no more a man for his Folly is miserable, because it agreeth so aptly with his nature. But once again these cluishe Sophistrers heave at me. The knowledge (say they) of disciplines, is peculiarly given to man, through help whereof, what he lacketh b● nature, he may supply with his wit and learning. A gay matter, as who saith nature, which in gnattꝭ, yea and in herbs, and trees, hath so diligently done by'r part, in man only should have showed herself defective, and a niggard, where through he needed to make recourse for aid unto disciplines. Which disciplines Theutus that dismal spirit, 
Disciplines unprofitable or rather hurt full to man.  who never willed good to mankind, did first find out, for your utter destruction, so little availing towards felicity, as rather they do hinder you from it, for which purpose they were chiefly ordained, as Plato very elegantly induceth that wise Aegyptien king to argue, disputing upon the first invention of writing. So therefore, sciences came in first, with the residue of the plagues of man's life, and found out by the very same authors, who likewise are authors of all mischief, that is to say, by devils: whereupon also they have their name grounded. for Daemon, signifieth cunning, or a knower. But the good simple people of the old golden world, without any disciplines at all, lived only as Nature taught, and instincted them.  
For what needed they any grammar, when all the world used but one speech? which made also to none other purpose, save that one might understand an other? Or whereto served Logic, when no controversy of words might make a double meaning? Or, what place had Rhetoric, when none contended with others? Or to what effect stood Law, seeing as yet evil manners reigned not, whereupon good laws (no doubt) were first grounded? Further, they were more religious, and godly, than with an ungodly curiosity to ensearche the secretis of Nature, the ●uantitee of the stars, their courses, or influences, or the hidden causes of things, supposing it against god forbade, that they being mortal and earthly men, should struggle to know beyond their degrees. Much less that ever any such madness came in their brains, as once to think upon the inquirey of things set above the stars. But when by little and little the pureness of the golden age decaced, than were sciencꝭ invented (as I said) by wicked spirits, but right few as yet, and practised by as few. Than afterwardis, the superstition of the Chaldees, and idle newfangledness of the Greeks added (I ween) more than six hundred others, being mere vexations of men's brains, in so much as Grammar alone, is able to keep a man task whiles he liveth. And yet (lo) even amongis such sciences, those we see had in most price, than draw nearest to the comen sense and capacity of all men (that is to say) to Folly. For as for Divines, they may well enough walk an hungered: Mathematical professors blow their nails: Astronomers are laughed to scorn: Sophistrers are nought set by: Only a Physician (as Homer saith) is more worth than twenty of the rest. Yea and commonly the rassher, the uncunnynger, & less circumspect the undertaker of any of those usual sciencꝭ is, the more yet is he regarded & allowed even amongs great men also. Like as Physic, according as many now a days do wrest it, is nought else than a member of Adulation, as well as Rhetoric: Next place whereunto is given to civilians and Lawyers: but I am in doubt, whether it be the second, or the first, by the rules and ●statutes of the univerfitee: of whose profession as I will say nothing, so other men are went with one consent to have it in derision, as a certain kind of Asselyke philosophy: but yet these Asseheades be they, that rule all the roast, and enlarge their possessions, whereas a Divine in the mean while looking over all his books of divinity, can hardly pike him out a radisshe root for his dinner, doing battle continually with gnattꝭ and lice. And therefore like as sciences are the more happy, and available, the nearer affinity they have with Folly. So are those men most happy, who altogethers may abstain from meddling with any sciences, and follow Nature only for their guide and maistres, who in no part of her is lame, or insufficient, as long as it sufficeth us to keep ourselves within her bandis. For Nature abhorreth counterfeiting, 
Things without art the morehappely flourish.  and far more towardly doth it flourisshe, that with least art and cure is tended to. For see you not how amongis brute beasts, and birds also, those live most wealthily, that have least to do with disciplines? nor are subject to any others government, saving Natures? The very Bees (trow ye) how happy and marvelous is their property? and yet (pardic) they have not all their senses. What house-wright by Geometry found ever out such manner building, as their comes are of? What Philosopher did ever form such a comen weal as theirs is? Contrary, an horse because he draweth nearest to man's sense, and is conversant amongis men, is therefore partaker also of such miseries as men are subject to. As who not seldom, whiles he is ashamed to be over run for the bell, doth ryre himself, and in battle whiles he seeketh victory, doth oftentimes draw his guttis after him. Besides the snafles and bittꝭ, he is broken with, the spurs he is girded with, the stables enprisonment he is hampered with, the whips he is lasshed with, the cogillꝭ he is ●asted with, the halters he is tied with, the riders he is laden with, and briefly, all that tragedy of his bondage, which willingly in a manner he took upon him (if we give credit to Aesopes' fables) whiles (as these valiant men do) his desire was to be wroken on the heart his enemy. Now bow much leefer is the life of these pretty small burdꝭ? who only as Nature pricketh them, live from hand to mouth, in deep quietness, as long as men will let them alone? That and if they fortune to be taken, and made to sing in a cage, yet (lord) how much they want than of their native grace, and properuesse? So far more lively ye shall find it, that rather nature induceth, than that art constreigneth. I can never therefore fully commend Pythagoras, 
Pythagoras' counted any brute creature to be happier than man.  who when under diverse bodies and likenesses he had been all things, a Philosopher, a man, a woman, a king, a private person, a fish, an horse, a frog, yea (I ween) a sponge also, judged yet no kind of creature more miserable than man, because all the rest were content to live as Nature had limited them. Only man would press to pass his bandis. Yea and therefore amongis men, he preferred also the idiot, and simple vulgars, before other learned and reputed persons. So Grillus (I think) was better advised, than Ulysses, for all his deep wit, in that he had rather grunt still in the sty, being changed into a hog through Circe's sorceries, than waifaring with him, to suffer so many wretched, and grievous chances. In which point I take it, that Homer also the father of fables, doth consent with me: that where in many places he calleth all mortal men both woeful, and wretched. and than again speaking of Ulysses, the example (as he makes him) of a perfit wiseman, giveth him the addition of sighing, or pensive, which in no place ye find attributed to Paris, or Ajax, or Achilles. But wherefore trow ye doth he so? Save for that Ulysses being double, and crafty, used Pallas advise in all his procedyngꝭ, and was overwyse, as he that took the farthest drift he might from Nature's course. Wherefore like as amongis mortal men they are farthest removed from blissfulness, that give themselves to the study of wisdom, yea, twice foolish in this, that being borne men, they would possibly if they could, usurp the state of the immortal Gods, and (as poets feign the giants did) with their engines of sciences move war against Nature. So they on the other side seem least miserable, and wretched, who draw nearest to the bluntness of brute beasts, and attempt nothing beyond man's degree. For proof whereof I will not blind you with these stoics Syllogisms, but rather induce you by some familiar example. And by the faith ye own to the immortal god, may any thing to an indifferent considrer be deemed more happy, and blissful, than is this kind of men, 
Natural ●●oles the happiest of all men.  whom commonly ye call fools, dolts, idiots, and paches? by most fair and goodly names as I take them? Peradventure I move a thing without purpose, and very fond at the first sight, but ere I have done, ye will grant I have cause to say it. seeing first such idiots are free, and exempt from all fear of death, which fear is no small corrosive, to a mind that mindeth it I warrant you. Like as they feel not what a twitching tourment it is, to have a grudged conscience, and shrink as little at these old wives tales of spirits, of divellꝭ, of hobgoblyne and the fairies, neither mourning to themselves for fear of evillꝭ and adversities impending, nor bragging overmuch upon hope of any good luck coming. To be brief, they are not tawed, nor plucht asunder with a thousand thousand cares, wherewith other men are oppressed. They blush at nothing, they doubt nothing, they covet no dignity, they envy ●o man's fortune, they love not paramours: and lastly if they be very brute naturals, now they sin not, as doctors do affirm. Here, I would my Masters of sapience, nay rather Master fools, should repute with themselves, how on all sides their minds are vexed continually. Yea let them but gather to account, to what a number of discommoditees, inconveniences, and difficulties the state of their life is indebted, and so they shall soon sum up, from how many, and how great evillꝭ I have subtraied these my sel●e paches. Who not only themselves are ever merry, playing, singing, and laughing: but also what ever they do, are provokers of others likewise to pleasure, sport, and laughter, as who saith, ordained herefore by the god of their benevolence, to recreate the sadness of men's lives.  
That whereas diverse amongis themselves are diversly inclined, yet do all men generally with one assent own favour to these poor fools, covet them, feed them, struck them embrace them, yea so much lacketh that any wight of reason will do them any great injury, as the very wildbeastꝭ (experience teacheth) have been seen to spare and forbear from hurting of them, through a certain natural sense of their innocency.  
For such Naturals are holy, and consecrate unto the god, specially to me: and not without cause therefore do folk so esteem them. Like as many great lords there be, 
Great lords delight in fools.  who set so much by them, as scant they can eat their meat, or bide a minute without them, cherishing them (by iysse) a little better, than they are went to do these frowning philosophers. A few of which sort also for honour's sake, and furniture of their court, they vouchsafe to entertain. But why they use to make more of the other, I think it soon guessed, and ought not to be marveled at. For these wayward wisemen never come forth but with admonitions, and book lessons, yea and through confidence of their learning, are not sometime ashamed to say the troth: whereas my fools supply a far more gracious and acceptable office, to delight men with their playing, daliing, fond talk, and devices. Yea and above all this, have a marvelous property, in that they only are plainsaiers, and south speakers. And what is more laudable (at least as outwardly ye commend it) than plainness of speech? For although Alcibiades proverb in Plato ascribeth troth to children and drunkenness, yet may all the praise thereof be chief appended to me, as Euripides can well testify, who wrote thus: A fool speaketh like a fool (id est) plainly. For what soever he hath in his thought, that showeth he also in his countenance, and expresseth it in his talk.  
Whereas these wisemen are they, that are double tongued, as the aforesaid Euripides telleth us, with the one of which they speak the truth, with the other, things meet for the time and audience. Their property it is to change black into white, and out of one mouth to blow both hot and cold: and think unhappeliest in their hertis, when they speak smotheliest with their toungꝭ. How be it me seemeth that princis, how ever the abundant felicity of their estate is wont to ●ase mean folkis etes, may yet as to this respect be counted right miserable, because they want, of whom to here the truth, and are faives therefore to take flatterers for their friendis. But some will say, troth may not at all times be spoken, and therefore are these wisemen so eschewed, because without respect they speak frankly. Now so it is in deed, truth (for the most part) is hateful to princis. And yet we see, that of fools oftentimes, 
True talk of fools unpunished.  not only true tales, but even open rebukes are with pleasure declared. That what word coming out of a wiseman's mouth were an hanging matter, the same yet spoken by a fool shall much delight even him that is touched therewith. Such a lively grace to content men hath verity, as long as it be mixed with nought else that may offend. But without offence to do the same the god have granted to fools only. 
Women delight in fools.  And so in a manner upon like causes, have women like pleasure in them, in as much as naturally the Feminine Sex is bended all to pleasure, and trifles. That what so ever they do with these fools, although sometime (may chance) it be past sport, yet have they the easy to expound it to be nothing but a playing toy, or a thing to make dalliance, as ever women be ready witted to turn and excuse the matter. But now to return to my purpose, my Idiots having thus led forth their time, in much triumph, and solace, at last without any fear or sense of death, do pass hence the right way to paradise, there also to disport their quiet and innocent souls in continual play. Now go to if ye list, and confer any wiseman of them all, with these my simple, and least regarded fools, as touching their state of blissfulness. Or rather let us draw on the other side, for a comparison betwixt them, the extract of a man of wisdom. For exemples' sake, a caitive (so I may call him) that hath worn out all his childhood, 
The image of an absolute wiseman.  and youthful years in learning of disciplines, having lost so the sweetest part of his life in continual watches, cares, and travails, nor in all the residue that ever tasted one dram of pleasure, being ever niggardly, ever poor, melancholic, and frowning: as hard and wrongful to himself, as insupportable and odious to others, pale, meigre, sikely, and blereyed, wasted away with eld, and horenes, which his own wilful study advanced to him before his time: yea and before his time posting (as it were) out of life, although it skilleth not how soon he dieth, who never yet lived.  
And this (lo) is that goodly image of their wiseman. But once again these Philosophers, or verelier (Soike frogs do crock at me), For nothing (say they) is more miserable than madness: but a notable folly is next sib unto madness, or ratber madness itself. For what is madness else, saving a general error and abusion of the mind?  
tush, tush, these calves are ever in a wrong box: but let us prove yet, by the Muse's leave, how we can refelle this Syllogism of theirs, which (in deed) they have subtly knit togethers, but as in Plato, Socrates teacheth us, to divide one venus into two, and one Cupid, into two Cupid's. So likewise these Logiciens, if they had done right, should have divided or distingued one kind of madness from an other. In as much as every madness, 
Every error of the mind is not madness.  is not strait therefore miserable. For than Horace would not have said, Is it not a sweet, and pleasant madness that deceiveth me? Nor Plato likewise would have put the raving of poets, prophets, and lovers, amongs the principal weals, and benefits of this life. Nor yet the prophetess in Virgise would have called the long wandering, and peregrination of Aeneas, a mad labour. But ye must understand, that there be two kinds of madness. 
Two kinds of madness.  One is that rage, which the Furies of hell, being punisshers of the wicked, do bring with them, as often as they graff, and fasten in the mindis of mortal men, either fervent desire of an unjust revengement, or unsatiate covetousness of gold, or cursed and unleeful love, or parent slaughter, or treason, with such other plagues sent by the just judgement of the gods, for the punishing of misdooers. Or when those Furies do trouble, and vex the guilty conscience of a man, with the prick of dreadful furiousness. But there is an other kind of madness, far unlike the former, which proceedeth from me wholly, and most is to be embraced. As often as a certain pleasant raving, or error of the mind, delivereth the heart of that man, whom it possesseth, from all wont carefulness, & rendereth it divers ways, much recreated with new delectation. Now this said Error of the mind, as a special jewel, and benefit of the god, was wished after, even of Cicero himself, in a certain epistle he wrote to Atticus, to the end he might have no sense, nor understanding of so great evils, as at those days oppressed his country. Likewise Argiws, he whom Horace writeth of, judged not much amiss. Who this far●oorth raved, that whole days togethers he would sit alone in the Theatre (a place where the comen plays were played) laughing, and clapping his hands, and rejoicing much to himself, because him seemed verily that some excellent Tragedies were in playing there, whereas in deed he saw nothing at all. When yet for all that as to other respectis, he behaved himself wisely enough, being well-beloved of his friendis, gentle to his wife, and easy to his servants, without falling in any rage with them, when he found a back faulset set in his wine vessel. Now when his kinsfolks procurement, giving him medicines therefore, had healed his disease, and restored him to his former wits, mark ye, how he fell out with them, in blaming their thankless and double diligence. Ye have slain, and not saved me; o my friends (quoth he) in wresting my pleasure from me in this sort, and by force berevyn gme such a most delectable error of my mind. And well mought thou say it (good Argive). For it was they that raved, and had more need than thou of Elleborus to purge them, who took in hand to drive and expel out of thee, so pleasant, and happy a madness, in stead of a great disease, as they took it. How be it, I am in doubt yet, whether every Error of the mind and senses, deserveth to be called madness. 
Every error is not madness.  For if one that is ●andblynde would take an ass, for a moil, or an other praise a rhyme of Robin hood, for as excellent a making, as Troilus of Chaucer, yet should they not straightways be counted mad therefore. But he that not only erreth in his senses, but is deceived also in judgement of the mind, and that extaordinarily, and of custom, he (I say) may well be bolden mad, and out of his right mind. As if some man so often as he heard an ass roar, did persuade himself, he heard marvelous chanting of the Chapel: or a poor caitive borne of beggars, believed he were Croesus the rich king of Lydia. And yet, come this plat kind of madness, so it tend (as for the most part it doth) unto pleasure, than bringeth it no small delectation, as well to them that are detained therewith, as those also that perceive it to be in others, having themselves no espece thereof. For this manner madness is largelier spread abroad, thau most folk ween it is. But in the mean while one mad man mocketh an other, and not seldom you shall see the more madman, the lowdelier laugh the less to scorn. Yet for all that, so much is each of them the more happy, 
No ma● void of madness.  the more divers ways he is deceived, so in his own foolish judgement, as long as he continueth still in that kind of madness, that is peculiar to me, which surely is so largely divided, as I doubt whether of the whole multitude of mortal m●n, ye can pike me out one only, who at all times may avant himself to do wisely, and not to be grudged with some spece of madness. Albeit this is the difference, that who so seeth a gourd, and believeth it is a woman, him do men give the name of a mad man, because few are accustomed to err so outtakyngly.  
But when we see an husband take his wife, in whom he hath many Coparteners, to be chaster yet than ever was Penelope, much rejoicing in his good hap, but right happily mistaking the matter, him now doth no man call mad, because that married men are commonly disposed to such diseases. 
Folly of hunters.  Much after which rate do such folks also rave pleasantly, as prefer hunting before all other pastimes, protesting what an incredible pleasure they conceive, so often as they here that foul music, which a horn maketh, being touted in, or the howling of a many of doggis. yea I think the very stench of the hounds kenuell, scenteth musk unto their noses. For as touching the death of a dear, or other wild beast, ye know yourselves, what ceremonies they use about the same. Every poor man may cut out an ox, or a sheep, whereas such benaison may not be dismembered but of a gentleman: who bareheadded, and set on knees, with a knife prepared properly to that use, (for every kind of knife is not allowable) also with certain gestures, cuts asunder certain parts of the wildbeast, in a certain order very circumstantly. Which during, the standers by, not speaking a word, behold it solemnly, as if it were some holy Mystery, having seen the like yet more than a hundred times before. Than (sir) whose hap it be to eat part of the flesh, marry he thinks verily to be made thereby half a gentleman. So therefore whereas these hunters through continual chasing and cating of their venery, gain nothing, but in a manner do themselves also degenerate into wild and salvage properties, ye may see yet, how through this error of mine, they repute their lives led in more than princely pleasure. And likewise, are not they most madly, but natheless pleasantly occupied, 
Builders.  that wholly set their study on building? to set up, and pluck down again, now square, now round, now of this cast, now of that, never making end, till brought at last thereby to extreme poverty, they have not so much left them as a cottage, where to put in their headis, nor one cross of comfort, to buy them bread withal. But what thereof? forsooth a few years have they spent yet, in great wanhope, and pleasure. Not far unlike these Alcumistes, or multiplyers, 
Multiplyers,  who by their new-found secret science, go about to change metal into metal, searching both by sea and by land, a certain Quintessence. These men are so enticed by an hope they have to bring their feat to pass, as neither labour, nor cost may withdraw them from the same, but wittily ever they do devise some new thing, wherewith to beguile themselves again, till at last, having spent all they could make, there remaineth not to them so much silver, as wherewith to buy bechen coals for their furnace. natheless they leave not to dream still of wondrous pleasant inventions, encourageing others, as much as in them lieth, to the same trade of felicity. That when at last all hope forsaketh them, yet have they this proverb in their mouths, in steed of a great comfort and recompense, saying, how in hiegh enterprises, even the good will alone is sufficient. And than (lo) in their excuse, accuse they the shortness of man's life, which sufficeth not for the great weight of so deep a cunning to be fully searched out. Moreover these dice players, 
Dyse players,  though I doubt whether their madness be foolish, or furious, yet surely it is a foolissh, and ridiculous sight, to behold many of them so given to the play, that as soon as they but here once the sound of the dysespringing upon the board. (Lord) how by and by their hearts begin to leap and throb in their bellies. Further, through a certain suckling hope of gain, having made shipwrcke of all their goods, when their ship strikes upon the Dyserocke, (a danger far more perilous, than is the race of Britain) themselves hardly escaring in their hose and their doubletꝭ, yet sooner will they beguile their own brother, than him that nycked them of their money, lest else perchance they might be counted foul gamesters. Yea, and being old now, and almost blind, yet play they still with glasen ears: and lastly having their fingers so knobbed with the gout, as rendereth them impotent, yet hire they some other to cast the dice for them. In which kind of madness (I wen●) they might pass their times right pleasantly, if it did not for the most part burst into a rage, and so pertain rather to the Furies of hell, than to me. But those men (no question) are wholly of my retinue, that put their sole delight in telling or hearing of these feigned miracles, 
lnuentors of old wives tales and feigned miracles,  or verilier monstrous lies, being never satisfied therewith, as when they feign certain terrible tales of ghosts, spirits, fairies, and dinels, with thousand such other old wives inventions, which the further they sound from truth, are the gladlier believed, and more pleasantly do feed men's ears. For surely such fables are not only doulcet to pass the time withal, but gainful also to their practisers, such as perdoners and limittours be. Than again next neighbours to these, are such as have a foolish, but yet a pleasant persuasion to themselves, that what day they see a wooden or a painted image of the giant saint Christopher, no nuschaunce shall betide them. Or if they great the graven image of saint Barbara, with some prayer prescribed for that use, they can not but return hurtelesse from the wars. Or if upon the sundays they worship saint Erasmus, with certain tapers and Paternosters, they shall in short space become rich men. For what speak I of others, who with feigned pardons, 
Perdones,  and remissions of sins do pleasantly flattre themselves, taking upon them to measure the space and continuance of soul's abode in Purgatory, as it were by hourglasses, setting out, both the years, the months, the d●●es, the hours, and the lest minutes, without missing, as if they had cast it by Algrysme? Or what of those, that under confidence of certain Magic prayers, and charmelyke Rosaries, 
Rosaries,  which some devout deceiver invented first, either for his pleasure, or his profit, do promise themselves all glad things, richesse, honour, pleasure, good fare, long health, longer life, green age, yea, and the next seat in heaven to god almighty, which seat yet by their wills they would not possess to timely, I mean, that when the pleasures of this life have left them much against their wills, yea holding them back as it were by the teeth, than are they at last content, to have those heavenly joys succeed in the others places. And here now I may bring in the foolish wanhope (imagine we) of some usurer, or man of war, or corrupt judge, who casting forth one halfpenny of all his evil gotten goods, will strait think that the whole hoard of his former mislife, is at ones forgevin him, and that his perjuries, his lecheries, his drunkennesses, braulyngꝭ, deceitꝭ, trumperies, and treasons, which infinitely he by all his life committed, are thereby as upon a Quitꝭ est redeemed, yea and so redeemed, as it may be leeful for him, thereupon to return a fresh to a new world of vices. Further, how foolish, nay rather how happy are those good souls? which in saying daily the vii verses piked out of the whole Psaltier, believe they can not miss of too too great a good turn at god hands? Which verses (it is said) Saint Bernard learned first of a certain merry conceited devil, yet longer tongued, than crafty, for the poor wretch let Saint Bernard beguile him. But as for the verses, being in deed so bald, and nothing correspondent to the brave title they bear, as well near I myself am ashamed of them, yet are they allowed, not only of the people, but also of my great presidents of religion. Moreover, 
Superstitious worshipping of saints,  savoureth it not of the same saulce (trow ye) when every country challengeth a several saint for their patron, assigning further to each saint a peculiar cure and office, with also sundry ways of woorshipping? as, this saint helpeth for the totheache: that succoureth in childbirth: she restoreth stolen goods: an other aideth shipmen in tempests: an other taketh charge of husband men's hogs: and so of the rest: for to long were it to rehearse all. Than some sainctis there be, that are generally sued to for many things: amongis whom chiefly is the virgin mother of god: in whom vulgar folk have an especial confidence, yea almost more than in her son. 
Uulgar folk pray not to saints for wisdom.  But what is it (I pray you) that men make petition for unto these sainctis? saving for things pertaining rather to Folly, than ought else? Or amongis so many painted tables, images of wax, and other offringꝭ, wherewith all the walls, and roofs of some pilgrimage chapels are decked, in token of dangers escaped, saw ye ever any man yet escape folly, or made one hear the wiser? Some one (perchance) was saved from drowning: an other stricken through with a pot gone, recovered: an other, whiles both parts were together by the ears, no less happily, than manfully, fled from the battle: an other, being hanged on the gallows, through the favour of some saint, good master to thenes, broke the halter and ran his way, to the end he might once more help to discharge such, as are overcharged with their money baggꝭ: An other, breaking prison escaped: An other in spite of the physician waxed whole of his long botched sickness: An other, that drank two sorts of poison at ones, through the conflict of their contrary operations, being driven into a lax, found them rather medicinable, than deadly, unto him, full sore against his wives will, who lost bother her labour and cost about it: An other, when his cart overturned, brought his horses home in safety: An other, being pashed with the fall of an house, lost not (thanks be to the saint) his life: An other, found a bed with a man's wife, had the grace yet to shift from her husband. But none of all these (I warrant you) yieldeth thank for his folly laid aside. So sweet a thing is it, to be cumbered with no wisdom, as men had rather axe pardon of any other thing, than that. But how am I entered thus far, into this Sea of superstitions? That if I had an hundred tongues, as many mouths, and a voice thereto of iron, yet could I never des●iue half the kinds of fools, nor reckon up half the names of their follies. So swarmeth on all sides the life of christian men, with this blindness: which natheles priests not only do admit gladly, but also set it forwardꝭ, because they know well enough on which side their bread is buttered. But now, if some one of these cumbrous wisemen should rise up, and say (and say truly) thou shalt never die ill, as long as thou livest well: Thou redeemest thy sins, in case to one halfpennie given to the poor, thou addest repentance of thy misdeeds, together with tears, prayer, and fasting: and changest all the trade of thy syfe: this saint will help thee, if thou livest as he did. These advertisements, and such semblable, if this wiseman (I say) should bark unto the people: See than strait from how sweet a felicity, into how great a trouble and confusion, he should pluck back the minds of mortal men. To this college do they also pertain, 
Funeral pomps.  who by their live days, do seriously enact, with what pomp and order they would be buried. So farfoorth as by tale also they express the number of the torches, tapers, mourners, priests, and orders of friars to sing at their funerallꝭ: And than, how many hired for money must lament and howl for them. As who saith, any manner sense of this spectacle should redound unto the dead. Or as if they, should blush and be ashamed, unless the corpse were woorshipfully interred, with none other desire in this point, than if being made majors or sheriffs they should ordain a midsummer sight. And truly, make I never so much haste, yet I can not pass over in silence those peacocks, which in deed are nothing different from the poorest cobblers that clout shone, and yet under a vain title of nobility do wondrously stand in their own conceits. One of them bringꝭ his petigrew from Aeneas, an other from Brutus, an other from Arthur: They show the graven and painted arms of their ancestors: they speak of their grandfathers, great grandfathers, belgraundfathers, and great belgraundfathers, whereas they themselves stand like blocks, in a manner less worth, than those painted signs, which they glory in. And yet, through this sweet persuasion of Selflyking, they lead a golden life: namely since such there want not, as very fools as the other, that have these kind of calves in veneration, as if they were god. But what speak I now of one, or two exemples? as though this Selflyking made not most men, manifoldly, by wondrous means, most happy in their own opinion: as when one fowler than any marmoset, 
Every wight liketh best himself.  thynkꝭ himself to be goodlier than Absalon. Or some other, as soon as he can draw three lines with a compass, takes himself to be as good in Geometry as ever was Euclides. An other like an ass to the harp, though he sing no better than a Gynee cock, weeneth yet to be Hermogenes, that excellent musicien. Than again, this (no fail) is a sweet kind of madness, which we see in diue●s fools, who what ever quality their friends, or servants have, do glory as much therein, as if they could do it themselves. Not much unlike that wealthy richman, whom Seneke writeth of, Who taking upon him to tell a tale, had ever his servants at hand to prompt him where he miss: and being himself so feeble, as scantly he could stand on his leggis, would not fear yet upon confidence of so many poudredbefe lubbers, as he fed at home, to make a match with any man at football. Furthermore I think in needless for me, 
Graduates of arts.  to touch any whit these graduates of arts, and sciences. Seeing that Self love is altogethers so much their alley, as any of them will sooner be driven from the inheritance his father left him, than give place in cunning to any others: but chiefly these Singing men, Sophistrers, Rhetoriciens, and poets do excel therein: amongis whom, the uncunnynger, the more liketh himself, and the franklier boasteth what he can do. And like setuce, like lips: for the balder the thing be, the more are men wont to be in love with it: as commonly the worst things are best fantesied, because (as afore I said) the most part of men are subject unto Folly. And therefore, if so be that a man the uncunnynger he is, the deeper yet standeth in his own conceit, and is of most men the more accepted, now I see not to what intent he should rather covet the true and perfit knowledge of the thing that he professeth, which first should cost him long labour and expense before he attain it, and being once had, should make him the less understanded, the more fearful to miss in uttering of it, and lastly commended of a far fewer number, because most men's rudeness can not reach to the fines of the same. Moreover, we see how nature as in singular men, 
The comen self liking of each Nation.  so also in each Nation, and almost in each city, hath graffed a certain comen selfliking. And so it comes to pass, that Englisshemen peculiarly before all other things, do vindicate unto them fair shape of the body, music, and well farsed tables. Scots, do boast them selves in their nobility, and nearness of blood to their prince, not a little also flattering themselves in their Duns doctrine. frenchmen, would be counted civil, and curteis of manners. Parisiens', all other names set aside, desire yet that the science of Theologic be peculiarly annexed to their university. Italians, above all men count themselves learned in humanity and eloquence, chiefly glorying in this, that amongis all other nations, they be not Barbarous. In which kind of felicity the Romans are principal, who even yet, dream pleasantly of the triumphs of their old Rome. Venetians, put great confidence in their nobility. Greeks, as authors of all sciences, do magnify themselves in so many famous men, as whilom flourished in their country. Turks, and all that froth of the very barbarians, would be commended yet even for their religion, laughing christian men to scorn, as rather full of superstitions. But much more sweetly are the jews deceived, who constantly look yet after their Messiah, and even till this day stand obstinately by their Moses' law. Hispanierdes, would be taken for good men of war. almains, do faun upon themselves for their tallness, and knowledge in artmagike. Thus, as it were to long to repeat all, so you see (I trow) how much this arrogance of Self love doth delight all men, in all places. With whom in a manner her sister Adulation may compare. For Self love is nought else, but when a man fawneth on himself. Which if thou doest to an other, than is it Adulation, or flattery. But now a days Flattery (on gods name) is taken for a vite fault, but of such as are moved rather with the name, 
Flattery a most requisite and commodious thing to man's conversation.  than with the thing itself. They think how faith, may evil join with flattery, which to be otherwise, we may learn through the example of brute beasts. For what can be more fawning, and flattering to a man, than a dog? but than again, what is more faithful? What is fuller of dalliance than a squyrell? but than again what is less hurtful? Unless perchance ye will say, that Lions, Tigers, or Leoperdꝭ are metre for man's recreation. How be it there is in deed a certain kind of flattery, whereby some traitors and deceitful villains, do train simple folks oftentimes to their undoing. But this Adulation of mine proceedeth wholly from a certain gentleness, and easy whiteness (as it were) of a friendly good will, and draweth much nearer to a virtue, than doth her contrary, that is to say, a rough plainness, or unmannerly crabbedness, to bear with no man. This Adulation encourageth a weak spirit, comforteth one drooping in sadness, quickeneth a langwisshing thought, wakeneth a dull head, raiseth up a sick mind, mollifieth a stubborn heart, getteth love, and ones gotten, retaineth it still, enticeth children with a good will to learn their books, gladdeth old folks, teacheth, and admonisheth princis of their duties, under colour of praise, without offending, briefly, it maketh that each man to himself is both dearer, and more acceptable: which effect may well be taken for the chiefest member of felicity. And what can be more fawning, than when one man praiseth an other? like moils clawing each others back? Or what needeth me to allege unto you, how this flattery supplieth a great good portion of that famous Eloquence, greater parcel of Philike, & greatest of Poetry? at ones, that she is even the very honey, and conserve of man's society and companying togethers? But Philosophers say it is a miserable thing to be beguiled, and err so. Nay, most miserable is it (I say) not to err, 
Man's life dependeth upon opinions of things,  and not to be deceived. For too too are they deceived, who ween that man's felicity consisteth in things self, and not rather in the opinion how the same are taken. In as much as in all humane things, there is so great darkness and diverseness, as nothing may be clearly known out, nor discovered: like as truly was affirmed by my Academical philosophers, the lest arrogant amongs all their Sects. Or if that aught may be known, the same yet not seldom disavaileth to the gladsomenesse and pleasure of the life. Lastly, so is man's mind framed, as much more it delighteth in things to the show, than in such as are in deed. Whereof who so list to have a lively proof, let him no more but go to a sermon, wherein if ought be said gravely, and to the matter, he shall see strait all the audience, other sleep, or gasp, or be urkesome. But and if the skreker (the preacher I would have said) falleth out of his purpose, as commonly their usage is, into some tale of Gesta Romanorum, or such like, than by and by they lift up their headis, they stand up, and give good care. Also if any saint amongis other, seemeth rathest to be new-found or poetical, admit it be saint Brandon, saint Christophre, or saint Barbara, the same yet shall ye see more devoutly worshipped, and vowed to of the people, than Peter, or Paul, yea or Christ himself. But these mattiers pertain not to this place.  
Consider you therefore, how much less costeth the acquirey of this felicity, which dependeth on the semblance and opinion of a thing, as if it were had, than that other of the thing self, being had in deed, which be it of never so small value and estimation, as Grammar, yet you see how long a man must sweat ere he get it, whereas the semblance of the same ye may easily conceive, and come by, through your own persuasion: and yet shall that conceit as much, or more avail you towardis felicity. For admit that one eateth stinking saltfisshe, whereof some other could scant bide the smell, and yet to his mouth it tasteth sweeter than a partridge, now (I pray you) what difference is there, as touching the felicity he taketh therein? Or an other abhorred to eat of a carp, or some other delicate kind of fish, did that any thing hinder the blissful state of his life? If a man hath a wife as ugly as may be, who yet in his conceit may compare in beauty with Venus, is it not all one now unto him, as if she were fair in deed? If he that beholdeth a table daubed with a little dirt and red Okre, did persuade himself it were a piece of Apelles or Hans Holbyns peincting, is he not happier (trow ye) than some other, who at great price have bought some of those woorkmens' woorkis? and peradventure take less pleasure in regarding of the same, than he doth of his? I know a gentleman, that presented his new wedded wife with certain counterfeit stones set in ringꝭ, persuading her (as he could do finely enough) that not only they were true, and orient, but also of great value. Now I pray you, what skilled that to her? Seeing she contented both her eyes and fantasy with those counterfeictꝭ, keeping them for a great treasure, whereas the husband in the mean season both spared cost, and took pleasure at his wines error, who natheless conned him as great thank, as if they had been right jewels. Is there any difference (trow ye) between such as Plato feigneth sitting in a cave under the ground, to see nothing but shadows and representations of things, so that they do coveite nought else, and content themselves therewith, and that wiseman, he imagineth should come out of the cave, and so see very things as they are in deed? That and if Micillus in Lucian's dialogues had evermore dreamt that his golden & rich dream, than needed he not to have wished for any other felicity. Conclude therefore, that no difference is between a thing itself, and the opinion or semblance of the same: or if there be, than are my fools yet in the happier trade. first because their felicity costeth them as little as can be, as only an easy persuasion and belief that they have, or can do a thing. next than, for that they eni●ie their felicity in comen with many others, and pardie ye know, how unpleasant the possession of any weal is, without fellowship, as if a man dwelled without company in the fairest plat of the whole earth. Whereunto I may liken these wisemen. For who is he that knoweth not how scarce the● are to find, in case ye find any at all? In deed the Greeks in so many hundred years could pike out but seu●n of them: and yet if ye siphte those well, I re●y myself, and ye find one half, yea or the third part of a wiseman amongis them all. Therefore, if amongs many commodities which my cousin Bacchus doth endue you with, 
Drunkenness.  this (and worthily) is reputed the chiefest, that through drunkenness he wipeth all cares, and anxietees from the mind, but for a season only, (for as soon as one hath slept a while upon his drink, and tempered so his brains, than return in post haste his former troubles and vexations). How far more ample, and ready than is my benefit of Folly unto you? 
folly a continual drunkenness.  when through a continual drunkenness (as it were) I replenish your myndis, with much joy, delight, and pleasure, yea and that so easily brought about? Which benefit of mine I do distribute to all men, whereas other Goddis gifts are derived sundrely upon sundry men. pardy, these noble and fine wives that are able to resolve sadness, and make men pluck up their stomachs, do not grow in every place. Few have the gift of beauty through Venus' favour. Fewer have eloquence at Mercury's hands. Hercules maketh not all men rich. jupiter granteth not kingdoms to every body. Oftentimes Mars favoureth neither party. Many return discomforted from Apollo's oracle. Not seldom joves' thunder destroyeth men: and Phoebus lanceth his arrows of plague amongs you. Neptunus' drowneth more folkis than he saveth (for what should I speak of these Veïoves, Plutones, Ates, pains, Fevers, and such other, not gods, but rather helhoundꝭ and tormentors unto you). But I folly am she, 
follies power embraceth all men.  that equally do comprehend all men under the compass of my so great a good gift. And look not yet to be prayed unto, nor am not angry, nor seek amendis, when any part of my sacrifice is misdoen, or overslipped. Nor I mingle not heaven and earth together, if any one bidding the other Goddis to a sacrifice banquet, leaveth me only behind, and alloweth me not my portion of the smoke, and savour of the burnt offryngꝭ. For of the other Goddis in this point such is the morositee and ceremoniousness, as in a manner it is easier, yea and less peril for a man to let them alone, than to meddle with their rites, and obseruauncꝭ. Like as some men there be, so wayward of nature, and so testi●e, as better it were not to use their company, than to claim any acquaintance of them. But no man (say they) maketh sacrifice unto folly, nor buildeth her a temple. Now surely I marvel not a little, (as afore I said) at such ingratitude of men. But yet of my gentleness I take this also in good part. Albeit to say the troth I find no want thereof at all. For why should I require, either frankincense, or levained meal, or a goat, or a hog for my sacrifice? Whereas all mortal men, in every region, do yield me that worshipping, which even by these scripture doctors is wont to be most approved? Unless perchance I should envy Diana, because her altars are besprent with man's blood. Nay, I think myself to be than most amply, and religiously worshipped, when every where, all men bear me (as they do) in their hertis, 
How men worship folly.  express me in their manners, and represent me in their living. Which kind of worshipping is not very rife, no not amongis Christians. For what a number of them see we, to set tapers afore the virgin mother of God: and that at noon days when least need is? But than again, how few of them go about to follow her steppis either in chasteness of life, soberness of manners, or love of heavenly things? For so should sainctis most dignely be worshipped. Moreover, why should I find lack of a temple, 
All the world a temple to Folly.  seeing all this world is in manner of a temple most goodly (as I take it) unto me? And as for priestis of my law, and other ministers of my religion, I am sure I want none in any place, whereas men want not. Than, I am not altogether so foolish, to demand any graven or painted images representing me, 
graven & painted images.  which rather should derogate than advance mine honour whereas oftentimes I see many do●tꝭ, and fatteheddꝭ worship such stockis, instead of the sainctis themselves, whereby I might chance to be served, as they that are thrust out of their rooms, by their deputies. But I take it, that so many imagis are erected in my name, as there be living men, bearing the lively representation and image of me about them, will they, or will they not. Wherefore, I have no cause to be aggrieved with the other Goddis, though they be worshipped sundrely, in sundry parts of the earth: and that at times of the year prefixed. As Phoebus in the Isle of Rhodes, Venus in Cypress, juno at Argos, Minerva at Athenes, jupiter in Olympus, Neptunus at Tarentum: and Priapus at Lampsacum, Whereas all the world universally offereth me day by day far dearer, and more dign sacrificis, than theirs are. That and if I seem to some folkis, to have spoken these woordis more stoutly, than truly, go to, let us but view a little, and consider the very lives, and doings of men, and so it shall manifestly appear, how much they are indebted unto me, and how much I am made of, both of hiegh and low degrees. Yet I intend not to account every man's life, for that were an endless labour, but a certain only of the most notable, whereby ye may easily guess, what the rest are. For what need I to allege vulgar people? who altogethers (without any question) aperteine to my band? 
The comen life of men full of Folly.   
So many veins of Folly they abound in, and so many new mines they do fresh and fresh seek out, as a thousand such as Democritus was, should not suffice to laugh at them, although yet those very laughers had need of an other Democritus to laugh them also to scorn. Yea, and it passeth, to see what sport and pastime the Goddis themselves have, at such Folly of these ●elie mortal men. For as for the forenoon, and sober hours of the day, those the Goddis spend in counsel mattiers, and hearing of men's vows, and supplications. But after diver oves, when they have drunken merrily of their Nectar, and list not to treat on earnest affairs, than which side of heaven bendeth most towardis the earth, 
How the Gods out of heaven behold men's follies in earth.  there sit they, and intentively behold what mortal men do: and surely no spectacle can be more pleasant unto them. Good lord, what a Theatre is this world? how many, and divers are the pageants that fools play therein? For I also not seldom am wont to sit amongs the Goddis to mark men's dooyngꝭ. One man see they ready to die for love of a woman, and the less he is beloved, the more hotly to pursue her. An other marrieth the goods, not the widow. He settꝭ his wife to sale. another jealous wretch like Argus, keepeth his in mewe.  
This man mourneth, and lord, what follies saith he, and doth he, hiring also some players (as it were) to weep and howl for the nonce. An other, what so ever he can rape and rend, slingeth it into his belly gut, when not long after he would gladly skamble for a piece of biskette. another puttꝭ all his delight in sleep, and sloth. There be some such also, as busy themselves busily in other men's business, not looking ones how their own goeth. Some count them selves rich men, in borrowing of Peter to cloth Paul, when soon after they find not one farthing left, wherewith to bliss them. another thinkꝭ nothing better, than living himself wretchedly, to make Iohn his son rich. This man for a little lucre, and that also incertain, skymmeth all the seas committing his life to the waves and the winds, which no money may restore to him, once being forlorn. He had rather seek him riches in the wars, than sleep in a whole skin at home. There be some, that in pliing, and giving attendance on old men childerlesse, ween to become rich through executourship. Such want not also, that in wowing of these wealthy old trottꝭ, think to speed sooner of their purpose. Either of which than surely make most pastime to the Goddis their beholders, when of those that they go about to train, they also are trained, and baited with craft for craft. But above all others, usurers 
Usurer●,  are a kind of men most foolish and filthy, whose trade and occupation being in deed the unlest that can be, and thereto handled by them after as vile a manner, with lying, forswearing, bribing, beguiling, and shifting, yet count they themselves to be head men of their parishes, because they wear hoops, and goldryngꝭ on their fingers. And no marvel, when these blind minions, these friars, can so faunyngly uphold them in their sermons to the people, calling them worshipful, and venerande masters, in hope that some portion of those evil gotten goods, may somewhat in compensation of their golden glozing, fall unto their covent. You shall see again some others so much given to Pythagoras' sect, (who would have all things amongs friends to be in comen) that what so ever they find lying at large, with as free a conscience they will take it, as if it came to them by inheritance. There be some also, who only with wishing and woulding are rich in their own fautesie, as when they imagine certain sweet dreams of glad things to befall them, which they take sufficient for their whole felicity. Many rejoice to be holden richmen abroad, living at home with an Orange, or an Onion. This skapethrifte, throweth his goods against the walls. That penny father, skrapeth it togethers, both by God, and by the devil. He, is driven through ambition, to seek favour at him, and him. He, is no medlar, but sittꝭ by his own fire at home. Many fools, tangle themselves in the law, and can never get out of it, but hold and shove on both sides, only to make fa●te these adiourning judges, and Ambidexter Advocates. This man looketh for a new world. That man compasseth some deep drift in his head. Some one hath an especial devotion to go to jerusalem, to Rome, or to saint james in Galice, leaving his wife and children succourless in the mean while at home. Briefly, if one (as Menippus did) looking out of the moon, beheld from thence the innumerable tumultꝭ, and businesses of mortal men, he should think verily he saw a many of flies, 
Mortal men compared to a many of flies.  or gnats, brawling, fighting, begiling, robbing, playing, living wanton, borne, bred up, decaying, and dying: So that it is scant belevable, what commotions, and what Tragedies, are stirred up, by so little, and so short lived a vermyn as this man is. For sometimes a small storm of war, or pestilence, swopeth away and dispacheth many thousands of them togethers. But I were plainly moste fool of all, and worthy whom Democritus, with many laughters should point to scorn, if I took upon me to tell up all the fortꝭ of vulgar people's Folly and madness: 
The folly of those that are counted of the wiser fort.  and not rather turn me to those, who amongis you, have a certain reputation of wisdom. Such as compass no mean things, but aspire ever to a certain pre-eminence in knowledge and cunning above others. amongs whom grammarians 
grammarians,  and schoolmasters seem to be right notable. A kind of men (doubtless) most miserable, most slave-like, and most contemptuous, unless I did mitigate and relieve the discommoditees of their most wretched profession, with a certain sweet bait of madness. For surely these Grammerteachers are not pestered with one, or two evils, but rather with centum gravamina. As who ever in their schools, their schools, said I? nay rather in their Chapitre houses, session places, or bucheri●s, being always bare, hungry, & slovenly, do waste themselves away with continual travails amongis a many of boys, wax death with noise and crying, kill themselves with stench and filthiness.  
And yet through my benefit, they count no men like themselves. So lordly a thing they take it, when their fear their fearful flock, with a thretening voice and countenance. So princely an execution, to tear the poor boy's arses with rods, and ferules, playing the tormentors, and termagantꝭ amongs them, much like the ass wrapped in a lions skin. But yet, whiles they are thus occupied, that their filthiness seemeth more than cleanness unto them, that stench, and fysling, smelleth ambre grise, that bondage of bondages is taken by them for a kingdom: So farfurth as they would not change their tyrannisshe estate, neither with Phalaris nor Dionysius. But far more blissful yet be they, through a certain conceit they have taken of a new trade in teaching, each therein following his own devise. That whereas they put in to children's heads, nought but mere trifles, and fond rules of their own, yet (Lord) what Palaemon, or what Donate will not they despise, in regard of themselves. But (thanked be God) they find the means yet, by what craft I can not tell, to make the foolish mothers, and ignorant fathers believe, that they are such in deed, as they host themselves to be.  
Add also hereunto, this kind of delight they have, as often as any of them chanceth in some old book to find out the name of Anchises mother, or some other Latin word not commonly used, as Bubsequa, Bovinator, Manticulator, or diggeth up some gobbet of an old stone graven with Roman or greek letters somewhat defaced, (Lord) than what exultation, what triumphs, what commendations make they of it? as if they had won all Africa, or taken the great city of Babylon. What think you also, when they set up and show abroad their versis? versis (god knoweth) most bald, and foolish, but never the more fail they of some as very asses as they, who will hieghly commend the same: which putteth them in such a flusshe, as plainly they believe they have recovered Virgiles own vain in poetry. But this is the sweetest point of all, to see them flatter, and praise each other, clawing themselves by courses. That and if (as is possible enough) it chanceth one of them to stumble at some word, and an other being more advised than he to take him with the manner, (Oh Hercules) what Tragedies, what Disputations, what invectives are tossed then and retossed betwixt them? Let never grammarian be my friend, if I lie aught herein. I know a certain learned man, being both a Grecian, and a Latiniste, a Geometricien, a philosopher, and a phisicien, yea a kings physician, now almost lx years old, who setting all other things a part, hath whole twenty years togethers, gone about the making of a new Grammar: esteeming himself right happy, if he may yet live so long, as to set a perfit rule and distinction between the eight parts of speech: which hitherto none of the Greek, nor Latin grammarians could fully bring to pass: As who saith, it were deadly sin, if one make a Conjunction a distinction pertaining to the nature of adverbs. And for this cause, though already there be as many Grammars, as Grammerteachers, nay m●e, for my friend Aldus alone hath more than five times set out a grammar, yet overslippeth he no grammerboke, be it never so tedious, and barbarously written, which he liketh not over, and searcheth thoroughly, envying any man that in this kind should go one ace beyond him, as if he feared lest some other might take the glory hereof from him, and so his twenty years labours should be spent in vain. Now whether call you this a madness, or a Folly? For as to me it skilleth not, so ye confess it to proceed all of my goodness, that these poor wightꝭ, these Grammarians, and Schoolmasters, who else should be as wretched as wretchedness itself, ween yet they are mounted into such a felicity, as gladly they would not change lives, nor estates, 
poets.  no not with the rich kings of Persia. poets are somewhat less beholding unto me, notwithstanding, even by their profession they show themselves to be of my sect, a free kind of men, that like peincters may feign what they list, whose study tendeth nought else, than to feed fools ears with mere trifles and foolisshe fables. And yet it is a wondrous thing to see, how through fame thereof, they ween to be made immortal, and Gods pe●es, promising others also like immortality thereby. To this order more than to any other, both Self-love, and Adulation are a●nexed familiarly, and of no kind of men am I observed more plainly, nor more constantly. Moreover Orators, and Rhetoriciens, 
Rhetoriciens.  notwithstanding that a little they seem to serve from me, cleaving to the philosophers, yet I can prove them also to be of my faction, as well by other arguments, as by this, that in the precepts of their art, amongs divers other trifles, they have written so largely and exactly, how to provoke laughter in an audience, and of the cast, or means of scoffing: So farfurth as he what so ever he was, that wrote the book of Rhetoric to Herennius, maketh folly also to be a member and parcel of Rhetoric. And Quintilian, the very headman of this order, in his book of the institution of an Orator, hath made one chapter all of laughtersterring, longer I ween than is Homer's Iliad. yea, so much do Rhetoriciens attribute to foolisshenesse, as oftentimes what objection by no argumentis may be refelled, the same yet with some laughing and scoffing conceitꝭ, they would have shifted of. Unless perchance, ye will say, that folly hath nought to do therein, when with such tauntꝭ and meritourned answers, they provoke men to laughter, yea and that by rules and precepts given thereof for the nonce. Of this grape are such also as in making and publisshing of new books, 
Compi●ers of new books.  do fish for a praise and glory. These men as generally they are much bounden unto me, so in especial are such of them, as do blot their papers with merest trifles. For as for those that take upon them to write cunningly to the judgement of a few, and care not what learned men look upon their doings, them take I to be rather miserable, than blissful, seeing how continually they are feign to writhe their wits in and out, in putting to, in changing, in blotting out, in laying their work aside, in overuewing it again, in showing it to some for a proof, and yet keeping it in their handis whole nine years togethers, so that they are never satisfied with themselves, whiles they go about to purchase so vain a reward as praise is, yea and that given them by a few, only so dearly bought with many nightis labours, and loss of sleep, the sweetest thing that can be, and with so many travails, and beating of their brains about it: besides the hurt they sustain in their bodies, decay of beauty, marring of their eyesight, or also blindness, together with poverty, envy, forbearing of pleasures, untimely age, hasted death, and such like disadvantages, which natheless these wisemen stick not at, so they may have their writings allowed at one or two of these blereied bokewormes hands. But my Scribes on the other side, have not a little more commodity and pleasure of their folly. Whereas taking no great leisure in penning of their matter, nay rather what so ever toy lighteth in their head, or falleth in their thought, be it but their dream, they do put the same strait in writing, with small dispense or none, saving waste of paper? knowing (I warrant you) what will come of it, that the fonder the trifles be, which they entreat of, the more commendation shall they get of most men, fools as they & unlearned. And what mastery is it for them to set light store by two or three of those learned men's reprives, if so be yet they read their works? Or what availeth them, so few wysemens' allowance? where so great a multitude of fools on the other side will disallow it. That in case they have the feat to set forth other men's doings for their own, and can be contented to bear the name of that, which others took the peines about, marry sir than I think they have good skill: for though it chance them at last to be taken with the manner, yet for a season they may keep their reputation. And it is a pleasure to mark how much these men esteem themselves, when they are praised so of the people, and when they are poincted out in a great company, as, this is the wondrous fellow ye here of: and when in every bokebynders shop their works are set to the sale, and when they read their names, surnames, and bynames, set in the first fruntꝭ of every book, which titles also they do counterfeicte, and turn into some contrary language, as strange as may be devised. Yet, I pray you, when all is done, what be they else but names? and how few shall know those names, having regard to the worldis wideness? and how many less commend them? namely such diversity being in iudgementis: yea amongis unlearned men also? But what say you to this, that not feeldome they feign those names, or borrow them out of old Actors? for one of them joyeth to be named Telemachus, an other Stelenus, or Laertes, he Polycrates, he Thrasymachus, and such like. So that now it skilleth not how they entitle their books, for by as good reason might they call it a gourd, or a radisshe root, or name it A, or B, as philosophers do by theirs. But this is the best sport of all, to see them present each others with epistles, with verses, and with mattiers of praise, sent from fools, to fools: and from asses, to asses. Here, he in his judgement is as good a Poet as Alcaeus was, and him doth he likewise compare to Callimachus. The one is holden for more eloquent than Tullius Cicero: that other, for better learned than Plato. Yea and not seldom leaving this fair play, they fall to foul, 
The foolish contention amongs learned me.  in seeking them out some adversaries, to the end that in contending togethers, their fame may be the wider blown abroad. In the mean time, one learned man taketh his part, an other taketh his, ●ill at last both the Captains having buckled manfully togethers, would be taken for victors, and both partis pretend to Triumph therefore. These things of wisemen are counted to be mere follies, as in deed they are, who can deny it? But yet there while through my benefire they lead a pleasant and glorious life, as not willing to change their Triumphs, scarcely (I believe) with those of the Scipions. How be it, such as are learned in deed, are not a little also beholding unto me, whiles with great pleasure they may laugh at the other, and take fruition of their madness, which they can not again say, unless they be to unkind, and the veriest churls of all. Next these now, 
Lawyers of Civil and canon.  civilians, and canonists challenge no mean place amongis learned men. And who than they stand depelier in Selfliking? For whiles continually they turn, and return Sisyphus' stone in rehearsing up an hundred laws and Paragraphes all with a breath, it skilleth not how little to purpose, and whiles they add gloze upon gloze, and opinions upon opinions, they make as though their law science were most hard, and difficult to be attained to. So what so ever is hardly done, that they reckon strait to be most excellent.  
And ioigne we (hardily) to them these Sophistrers and Logiciens, 
Logiciens.  being a race of men more kackeling than a many of daws: each of whom in babbling may compare with ten women chosen for the nonce, and far more happy should be, in case they were only babblers, and not skoldꝭ also: in sort that oftentimes for the moon shine in the water, they strive whole days together, and with to much arguing, let the truth of the matter slip by them. natheless through Selfliking they are bathed all in felicity, so that armed only with three Syllogisms, they dare boldly provoke any man, as well assured that they will never give over, though Stentor himself were matched against them. next them come these Philosophers, 
Philosophers.  venerable for their long beardꝭ, and cloaks down to the feet, protesting themselves only to have knowledge and wisdom, whereas other men stand for no more than Ciphres in algorithm. But (lord) how sweetly do they rave in their own opinion: when constantly they affirm there be worldis innumerable? Or when they take upon them to measure the son, the moon, the planets and their compasses, as it were by ynchemeale, or drawn with a line: Or when they expound the causes of thunder, of winds, of eclipses, and such other inexplicable things, nothing doubting, as if they had crept into nature's bosom, or were of counsel with the Goddis. And yet doth nature loudly laugh them to scorn, with all their conjectures: conjectures I say, and no certain knowledge, which appeareth by this, that one sect of them agreeth not with an other, but rather contendeth togethers upon every little thing. And yet these men, who in deed know nothing, will take upon them to know all thing. Yea whereas they know not themselves, nor see not oftentimes a pit, or a stone lying in their way, either for poreblyndnesse, or because their wit is not at home, yet make they their avaunt to see and perceive plainly their Idees, their universals, forms separate, first mattiers, quidditees, and Ecceites, things so subtle, and so fine, as not Lynceus himself could espy them out, though it be said how he could see through a stone wall. But than chiefly do these Philosophers disdain other vulgar people, as often as with triquetre, and tetragon circles, or with such like Mathematical figures, drawn one upon an other, and entangled in manner of a maze, with letters also set as it were in order of battle, and with lives drawn hither and thither, they do cast a mist before simple folkis eyes. 
Astronomers.  And such there want not also of this kind of men, that take upon them by looking on the stars, and planets, to tell us aforehand, what shall happen and betide a hundred years after.  
Declaring by their Prognostications, the success of certain wondrous accidentꝭ, stranger than any which craft, or artmagike. yet such is their hap, to find out men, who of their singular grossness give credence also to this their so plain illusion. Now having reached thus far, and comen to the place of doctors of divinity, I stand in doubt whether I may speak of them, 
Doctors of diuinite●●  or rather pass them over, and not ●●urre at all their patience, being a nest of men so crabbed and waspelyke, lest else perchance they should all at ones fall upon me with six hundred conclusions, driving me to rec●●●; that in case I refused so to do, than would they by and by denounce me for an heretic. For that is the thunderbolt, wherewithal they threaten such, as stand not best in their favour. But surely although none other sort of men do with less good will than these, acknowledge my goodness unto them: Yet can I prove these Doctors also to be more than one or two ways in my danger, being so propped up with their own Arrogance and Selfliking, as if they dwelled amongis the stars, or looked down from aloft, and in a manner took compassion upon other silly men like worms creeping by the ground. Namely whiles they are hedged in on all sides, with such a guard of Magistral diffinitions, conclusions, corollaries, explicit and implicit propositions, with so many starting holes, as not Vulcan's nettꝭ were able so fastly to hold them, but they would wind themselves out again with Distinctions, wherewith they carve all knots asunder, as smoothly as a razor doth the hears of a man's beard. Such a number of new-found monstrous terms have they thick and threefold invented. Also whiles they expound the secrettꝭ of scripture at their pleasure, disputing how the world was first create, and proportioned, by what channels sin was derived into Adam's posterity, 
The foolisshe questions or ●●hole doctors.  what ways, by what measure, and in how short space Christ was complete in the womb of Marie the virgin: And how in the sacrament of the altar, the accidents of bread and wine, remain when the substance is gone: but these questions are for every young beginner. Other have they more meet for great and illuminate doctors, which if at any time in disputations or talking after dinner they do stumble upon, strait they shake of their sleepy nodding, and do rouse themselves. As, whether any instant was in the generation of god the second person? whether in Christ there be more filiations than one? whether this proposition be possible? God the father, hateth the son, or whether Christ might possibly have taken to him the likeness of a woman, of a fiend, of an ass, or of a gourd? Or how that gourd should have preached, done miracles, or been ●anged on the cross? Or what should Peter have consecrated, if he had consecrated what time Christ's body hung on the cross? Or whether Christ being transformed so into a gourd, might at the same time be called man also? Or whether after the resurrection it be leeful for men to eat or drink? as who saith, providing for hunger and thirst afore hand. Innumerable such fine toys have they, much more subtle than these, of Instantes, formalitees, quidditees and Ecceitees, which no man I believe could espy out, unless he were so clear eyed, as to see out in a deep deep darkness those things that be no where. I may add also here to their sentences or saws, which are so estrange and beyond all expectation, as the very stoics sentences called Paradoxes, being compared to theirs, seem gross, and more than vulgar. (For example) Less sin is it, (say they) to slay a thousand men, than once on a sunday to clout a poor man's shoe. Or rather should we let all the world go to wreak both with dog and cat (as they say) than one's to make a losing, be the matter never so light. Now again, these their subtle subtleties, do 〈◊〉 make yet more subtle, through so many sorts of Schoolmen as they have. So that easier you shall find it to wind out of a maze, than out of their intricate names of Reales, Nominales, Thomists, Albertistes, Occanistes and Dunsmen, 
The sects of school doctors.  yet these be not all, but the principal only. But turn you to which sect of them ye will, and ye shall prove the same to be so cunning, so difficult, and so full of hiegh Mysteries, as I ween the apostles themselves had need to be instructed by a new spirit, in case upon these matters they were compelled to argue with this new kind of doctors. Paul could express what faith was: yet when he said thus, faith is the substance of things to be hoped after, and an evidence of things not yet appearing. This definition (say they) was not Magistraliter (idest) doctor like set forth by him. And, as Paul could very well teach what was charity, so did he not yet (say they) half like a Logicien either define, or divide the same, in the first epistle, and xiii chapitte to the corinthians. The apostles likewise did holily and devoutly enough consecrate the sacrament of Christ's body: and yet, who so had opposed them in terminus à quo, and t●rminus ad quem, or in transubstantion, or by what means the self same body of God may be in divers places at one's? or of the difference they put now between Christ's body as it is 〈◊〉 heaven, as it was on the cross, and in the sacrament of the altar: Or at what instant the transubstantion is made, seeing the prayer, by virtue whereof it is made, is ever passing over as it is on saying? These quaint questions (ween I) the apostles would never have soluted with like quickness of engine, as our Dunsmen do●e both argue, and define 〈◊〉 the same. The apostles knew the virgin mother of Iesus● but which of them did ever expound so clerkly, how she was preserved from Original sin, as our doctors do? Peter received heaven keys: yea received them at his hands (say they) that would never have committed the same to one unworthy them. Now whether he knew so much or no, I can not tell: but this I am sure of, that he never touched this narrow point, how it cometh to pass, that he also may have the key of science, who hath no science at all. The apostles Baptized every where, and yet they never taught what is the formal, material, efficient, or final cause of Baptism: nor ever made mention of the character delible and indelible. The apostles prayed, but prayed in the spirit, following that saying of the gospel, God is a spirit, and who so worship him, must worship all in the spirit, and in truth. But now it appeareth, that it was not then revealed unto them, how we ought with all one prayer, and like reverence, worship an Image drawn perhaps with a coal on the wall, as if the same were Christ himself. So it be made with ii blessing fingers of the right hand stretched out, and a ball in the other, with long hear sheded and a coronet in manner of a platter upon his noddle, decked with three sonnebeames. For who is he so pregnant witted, that might ever grope out these mysteries, unless he had spent whole xxxvi. years togethers in studying the Physicals and Vltramundans of Duns, and Aristotle? The apostles also preached grace unto the people: but yet they never made so narrow distinction between gratia gratis data, and gratia gratificans. They exhorted men to good woorkis, yet never put difference between opus operans, and opus operatum. They bid us in many places keep charity: but never divide the same into Charitas infusa, and Charitas operata, nor expeund not whether it be an accident, or a substance, a create, or an uncreate thing. They dishort us from sin, but I renie myself, if ever they could cunningly diffine, what that should be, we call sin? Unless they were inspired with the spirit of these Duns doctors. For I can never believe, that Paul, upon whose writing we may guess what mind the other apostles had therein, would ever so often have reproved and condemned, such questions, disputations, genealogies, and conflictꝭ of woordis (as he calleth them) in case himself had ever been instructed in their fine quidditees. Namely in as much as all the contentions, and debates in arguing, which chanced in his time, were but blunt, and very gross, in comparison of these twice sifted subtilties, that our Master doctors use now a days. How be it they can so much their good, that where in any place they find aught written by the apostles not formally, and Magistraliter, that they reprove not, but handsomely rather do interpretate it as best serveth for their purpose: bearing (as who saith) thus much reverence partly to the antiquity, and partly to the name of apostleship. And surely it were to much to require so hiegh mattiers at the apostles hands, who never heard one word thereof mentioned by their master Christ. But in case they take either Chrysostome, Basile, or Hierome with the like trip, tha● they take it sufficient for them to subscribe, that they allow it not. And yet those ancient good fathers, rather through their holy life and miracles, than by any arguments and Syllogisms, confuted both ethnics, and Philosophers, and jews, being bend of nature to stubbornness, yea and those also, never a one of whom were able to compass and understand the lest quodlibet of Duns. But now, have ye any painem, or beretike, that will not give place and yield strait to so many fine fine argumentis of our master doctors? Unless he were so gross, that he wist not what they meant? or so shameless to hiss at them? or rather fenced with like armour? so that now they were matches, as if ye should set one enchanter against an other, or an Oliver for a Roland. For than the battle were ever new to beginue. And surely in my judgement christian princes should do politicly, in stead of these bends of gross Lausknightꝭ, who not seldom (proof showeth) do speed as well evil as better, to arm, and send forth all these bawling Dunsmen, and stubborn Occanistes, and invincible Albertistes, together with the whole tablement of Sophistrers, against the Turks and Sarasius. They should see (I think verily) a strange kind of skyrmisshe, with such a victory as never was heard of. For who is he so cold hearted, that would not strait be inflamed with their pregnant devices? Or who is he so blunt, and restive, that could not with their pickant spurs be quickened? Or who so clear sighted, that may not with such dark mists as they cast, be blinded? But all this perchance ye ween I speak half in mocage. And truly no marvel.  
Seeing even amongis these Divines ye shall find out some such, as being institute in a better trade of learning, do loath, and abhor such riddles and Sophistical trifles of these Dunsmen. Some other again that do curse and detest the same, as a kind of Sacrilege, esteeming it plain wickedness and impietee, to speak so unreverently by so hiegh secrets of Scripture, which rather we should have in veneration, than after such rate go about to expound them, or with so profane Ethnical problems to dispute upon them, or arrogantly define them, defiling and bespotting the majesty of holy scripture with so cold, nay rather filthy woordis and sentences. But this notwithstanding, the other cods heddis in the mean while stand most pleasantly in their own grace, or verilier struck themselves on the head. So that occupying themselves both nightis and days, about these foolisshe toys, they have never thus much leisure, once to read over the gospel, or Paul's epistles: and yet in trifling out the time thus in their schools, they believe verily it is they, that prop up holy church, which else should go to ruin, none otherwise with their Syllogisms, than poets feign that Atlas the giant susteigneth heaven upon his shoulders. But now, how lordly is their felicity (trow ye) whiles they take upon them to form and reform holy scripture at their pleasure, as if it were a nose of wax, or a Welshemans' hose? and whiles they would their conclusions, whereunto a certain of some university have subscribed, should be holden for more than statutes, yea more firm and inviolable, than the bishop of Rome's Decretals? And whiles also like judges over the whole world, they call each thing to recantation, that one hear breadth disagreeth from their explicit, and implicit conclusions: Pronouncing as if it came from a prophets mouth, how this proposition is slanderous, this not reverent, this smelleth of the fagote, this soundeth nought.  
So that now a days, not Baptism, nor the gospel, nor Paul, ne Peter, nor Hierome, ne Augustine, nor yet Thomas of Alquyne, who is even Aristotle's heir and one hand, are able to make a man christian, unless these father bachelars of divinity, do vouchsafe to subscribe unto the same. So narrow and profound judgement have they, in discussing of all manner doubtꝭ. For who would ever have thought him to be of no catholic bel●efe, that affirmed these two saiyngꝭ, matula putes, and matula ●ute●: also ollae feruere, and ollam feruere, to be both congruent, unless these wisemen had taught us the contrary? Or who else might ever have rid the church from so great darkness of errors, which no man I think would ever have red, or looked on, unless they under the great seals of their universities, had in condemning discovered them?  
But are they not most blissful (trow ye) whiles they busy themselves hereabout? and moreover whiles they descrive and peinete unto us all things done in hell, so exactly as if many years they had seiourned in the devils court? Or whiles as liketh them they do build new heavens, adding also one heaven set above all the other, most fair and rowmie, lest else perchance sainctis souls should have no elbowroome to walk, or bankette, or play at tenes also if them listed. With these, and with two thousand such other trifles, are their headis so stuffed, and swollen up, as not jupiters' head (trow I) was ever so pestered, what time be borrowed Vu●canes axe to hew Pallas out of his brain. And therefore have ye no marvel at all, though at their Acts and Comencementꝭ ye do see them swaddled in with so many caps, 
The solemn weade of school doctors.  coyu●s, and furde hodes as they wear, for else I think plainly their headis would rive asunder. One thing, I myself am wont to laugh at, so often as I hear them speak their barbarous brass latin, wherein natheless they would be counted most doctourlike. That when they fumble it out in such a sort, as none but fumblers as they, may understand them, yet do they call it a certain grace and finesse, which every body can not attain unto. For (say they) it is not for the dignity of holy writ, our profession, that we should be compelled to follow any grammar rules: which surely (so being) is a great majesty of these Duns doctors, if to them only it be lawful to speak false latin. notwithstanding that many cobblers and clowters' can do that as well as they. Lastly now, they take themselves in a manner for God's peers, when they are saluted solemnly by the name of master doctors, or Magister noster: wherein they ween like mystery to be included, as the jews say there is in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: and therefore they affirm it to be a much great offence, if one do write, MAGISTER NOSTER otherwise than with great letters, that and if ye turn the woordis, saying noster Magister, in steed of Magister noster, than all at ones ye disorder the majesty of the Theological name. Now next unto the felicity of these master doctors, such do approach as people call Religious men, 
Religious men.  and Monks, that is to say, solitary livers, but by both names evil applied: seeing the greatest part of them are most far from religion, and none so commonly shall you meet roving abroad, even in every alehouse. Whose trade and observance surely were most miserable and abject, unless that I did many ways relieve them. For though this kind of men be commonly so abhorred, as even to meet with them at unwares, or next a body's rising, it is taken for a sign of evil luck all the day after: yet (lord) how they make themselves to be more than Cherubyns. For first they hold it a great holiness, to meddle so little with books, and learning, as scarce they know how to read their own names. And when they roar forth (like a many of asses) in their monasteries, a numbered of psalms not understanded, than they ween verily to feed saints ears with a marvelous melody. Moreover, some orders of them (namely Friars) do take a pride in their beggary in going from door to door to a●e their bread with a great lowing voice, pestering men every where, both in inns, in wagens, and in passengers, not a little (I promise you) to the hindrance of other begsters. And thus (lo) the blind minious, what with their gresinesse, doltisshenesse, rudeness, and shameless hanging on men, do represent unto us (as themselves say) the life of the apostles. But is it not a comeliness (trow ye) when they do all things by certain presidentꝭ of their orders, much ly●●e Mathematical rules, which in no wise without offence, they may alter, or swerver fro.  
As for example, how many windows they must make to their shoes? what colour, and number of knots goeth to their gurdelles? with what difference, and whereof must their weeds be made? of what breadth their leather thounges? how many busshelfuls their couses? how many inches long, their knotted hear? and how many hours for sleeping? Now who is he that seeth not how unequal this equality of theirs is, namely in such a diverseness of bodies, and dispositions?  
Yet under confidence of these trifles, they not only set lay men as light as butterflies, but even amongis themselves despise each other. So that for all the apostolic charity, which they profess, ye shall not see them stick to fall together by the ears, either for a girdle of a contrary fashion, or a garment somewhat of a browner or lighter colour. Yea, some of them being of a straighter rule, are so sore punisshers of their flesh, as outwardly they wear nought but sack cloth, and inwardly no better than fine holland. Some others again dare as soon touch poison as money, never the more forbearing from wine, nor contrectation of women. Finally all their delight is to accord in nopoinct as touching the rules of their religions. Nor they look not how to resemble Christ, but sooner how amongis themselves to be dissemblable: esteeming further a great part of their felicity to consist in the names of their orders. For some of them rejoice to be called grey friars, some white, these Colletes, they Minors, other Obseruauntꝭ, other Crossed, some Benedictines, some Bernardines, these Carmelites, those Augustine's, these Guilhelmites, those jacobites. etc.  
As who saith it were to slender a name for them to be called bare Christians. Now again most part of them are so given to their ceremonies, and traditions of men, as maketh them ween, that one heaven is not a condign, and sufficient reward for so great merits of theirs, little remembering that Christ nothing regarding their superstitions, will only call to account how they have observed his precept of charity. Here one of them (may chance) will for his discharge show forth a trough stuffed full of all kind of fish. An other, will pour forth an hundred quarters of psalms. An other, will number up millions of fastings, casting God in the teeth, that so often with eating but one meal a day, his bely was near burst. An other, will bring forth whole packs of ceremonies, so many as scarce might be freyghted in vij great bulks. An other, will make his avaunt, that whole lx years togethers he never touched money, but (at least) his hands were fenced with two pair of gloves. An other, will show forth his cowl, or scapularie so sweaty, and full of grese, as no mariner would gladly put it on. An other, will say that sins time of his noviceship be never passed the ●andes of his cloister, much like a sponge cleaving ever to one place. An other, that he is hoarse with daily singing. An other, how through to much solitariness, he is fallen into a benumbedness. An other, how his tongue through continual silence hath lost his use. But Christ iuterrupting their Selfebostes, which else would never take end, whence cometh (will he say) this new race of jews, I do acknowledge but one law and rule for mine, whereof I here never a word spoken. For whilom plainly, and by no shadow of parables, I promised my father's kingdom not to cowls, nor Rosaries, not set fastyngis, but rather to the works of charity: not I know none such, as to much know their own good works. These men would be counted holier than myself: let them dwell therefore if they list in Pasquilles heaven. Or do they cause those to prepare a new heaven for them, whose traditions they have preferred before my precepts. Now when they here Christ say thus, and see both carters, and ploughmen, preferred before them, with what countenance (suppose ye) will one of them behold an other? natheless in the mean time they are happy in their own hope, not without my help largely employed on them. Specially seeing for all they are dead (as they say) to this world, no man dare yet contemn them, and lest of all fr●ers, in as much as they are masters of men's secrets by virtue of that they call confession: which secretis they count it great sin to discover, unless at some times having tasted a little of the ale, they think good to recreate themselves with sporting tales a crasshe, only by conjectures and lykelihoodꝭ to point you to the thing, suppressing yet men's names of their modesty. That and if any man sterreth up these hornettꝭ, than in sermons to the people have they a ready way to wreak their tene, by touching their enemies not directly, but in parables, so closely I warrant you, as no man could not perceive them, but if he perceived nothing at all. And never will they make an end of barking till some fat morsel be cast them, to stop their mouthis. But who in the mean while would not gladlier behold one of these friar preachers how they counterfeicte the Rhetoriciens in their sermons (lowsely god knoweth) but yet fetely following those rules that Orators leave written of the Art of pronouncing, than any stage player, or Italian pardoner? Good lord, what strange gestures they frame? how they sing their woordis? how they cast their arms hither and thither? how they change the copy of their conntenaunces? how they mingle all things with outcries? which their said art in preaching, conveyed by one friar to an other, as it were from hand to hand, for a much privy thing, all be it unleeful for me to know, yet I shall make you a guess at it as near as I can. 
Preachers  In the beginning therefore of their sermons, they use some Invocation, but that they borrow of the poets. Than admit their Theme reune on charity, they fetch their proheme from Nilus the great river in Egypt. Or entenyong to exprunde the mystery of the cross, they begin aptly with Beel the dragon of Babylon. Or disputing of fasting, they fetch their race from the xii signs of the Zodiac. Or purposing to speak of faith, they make a long preamble how a circle in Geometry may be made quadrate. 
A maddy ta●e of a preacher.  I myself heard once a solemn lower, (I cry you mercy) a solemn learned man I should have said, who in his sermon, before a great assembly, taking upon him to declare the mystery of the trinity, to the end he might both show his learning to the people, and satisfy the ears of some doctors there present, took a new fetch in his matter. For what from letters, to syllables, and to dictions, and than the concords between the Noun and the Verb, the Noun adjective and Substantive (divers of the audience now marveling, and saying to themselves, what the devil aileth he) at last he brought it to this pass, that he showed the figure of the whole trinity to be so exactly described and expressed in the rules of grammar, as no geometricien might plainlier draw it with his finger in the dust. Which sermon the said doctourlike doctor whole eight months together so earnestly had sweat about, as until this day he is as purblind as a beetle. And no marvel, seeing he drew up all the sharpness of his eye sight, to the point of his engine: but for all that he nothing forthinketh his blindness, rather taking the same for to cheap a price of such a glory as he wan thereby. Likewise, not long agone I was present at the sermon of an other famous doctor, being almost .80. years old, and thereto so doctourlike, as if Duns were new arisen in him, who intending to disclose the mystery of the name of jesus, with great subtilty showed, how even in the very letters was as much pith included, and might be gathered thereof. For whereas it is declinable but in three cases, as jesus, jesum, jesus, that (said he) was a manifest representation of the trinity. Than because the first termination of jesus endeth in S, the second in M, the third in V, thereby lay a right secret mystery, in as much (quoth he) as the very letters do declare that jesus, is Summus, Medius, and Ultimus, (that is) the first, the midst, and the last. another mystery he alleged far more strange than these, dividing this word jesus as it were by geometry into two equal partis, leaving S, in manner of a stickler in the middle: which letter in the Hebrews ABC, is with, and they call it Syn. Now sin (quoth he) in english is as much to say as a deadly offence against God. so hereby it appeared, that jesus was the stickler or mediator, that took on him the sins of this world.  
This so strange and far fetched a beginning, all men did gape at so, chiefly the doctors there present, as little lacked that they were not changed through astonnednesse into stones as poets feign by Niobes.  
whereas I for my part through laughter, had almost let go a scape, as Priapus did for fear of the li witches Canidia, and Sagana, when it chanced him to see their sorceries by night season: and who could have blamed me if I had so done? For when did ever Demosthenes or Cicero, use the like far fetch in any of their orations? They took that Proheme to be faulty, which hung not apliablie with the rest of their matter: as who saith, there be any man so gross that even of nature is not instructed to do so much.  
But my doctors now adays take their preamble (so they call it) to be most Rhetorical, when it joineth lest with any other part of their Theme: which maketh the hearer, marveling at the estrangenesse of the devise oftentimes to murtre to himself, now whither the devil wilt thou. Thirdly in stead of a narration, they expound somewhat of the gospel, but that very briefly, and shortly passed over, whereas they ought to entreat thereof only, all their sermon through. In the fourth place, falling as it were into a new matter, they move some doctoral question, sometime such as toucheth neither heaven nor earth, which they take yet to serve much to their purpose. And here (lo) they begin to spread their arms, in alleging authorities out of solemn doctors, subtle doctors, most subtle doctors, seraphical doctors, holy doctors, irrefragable doctors, and such other goodly big names of their School pillars. And here they spout out their Syllogisms, their majors, minors, and conclusion, their corollaries, and most bald suppositions, with such other trifles before the rude people, as if they were in their most ruff disputing Pro, et contra in their Schools. Resteth now the fift Act or part, wherein it behoveth them to show forth all their cunning and profundi●ee. Here now (may chance) they come forth with some foolish tale taken out of Vitas patrum, or gesta Romanorum, moralizing the same both Allegorically, Tropologically, and Anegogically. And thus much after this rate do they knit up all their Chimaera, or strange shapen beast, with sundrier sorts of forms and fashions, than ever Horace described it, in the begiuning of his book De arte poetica. But they have learned, I wot never of whom, that the entry and beginning of an oration must be caulmely uttered without any loud voice, or exclamation. So they therefore begin their preambles so stilly, as scarce they can here their own voices, perhaps because it availeth them to speak somewhat, that none should understand. They have heard also how criyngꝭ out must sometimes be used to move up men's affections: and therefore speaking a pretty while all stilly, even at a brunt they fall into a skreking key, and fill men's ears with a crying shrillenesse, where they have least need at all. Moreover because they have red in Rhetoric books, that an Oration should somewhat kindle, and wax hot in process of argumentis, They, in every part of their Sermons, the entry into the same being somewhat more demurely pronounced, by and by do fall into a wondrous loud chafing voice, be the matter they entreat of never so cold, and leave of so, as if their breathes failed them. Lastly having understood, that Rhetoriciens give certain preceptis of laughter sterring, they also pain them selves to interlace their Sermons with some merry conceits: but (O the will of god) how full of grace be the same? and how aptly brought in their right places? as if an ass were set to play on a gyttarne. Sometimes also they far as they would nip folk with their quippies, but so f●inctly (god knoweth) as rather they do tickle, than pinch depelier. But never do they flatter more kindly, than when they pretend to speak most freely, and without respect. Finally all their cast in preaching is such, as a man would swear they had gone to school with these Ceretans, such as in Italy are wont in market places standing on stalls, or where they may be seen best, to preach unto the people in commendation of some pardon, feigned medicines, or such like toys of their own invention, to get money withal, and blear the simples eyes. Which Ceretans natheless do far pass them in their grace: All be it (to speak indifferently) the one of them is so like the other, as none will doubt, but either they have learned at those, or those at these again. But what need these my friar preachers to pass thereon? seeing through my procurement they never miss of such, as in hearing them, believe verily they hear Demosthenes, and Cireros matches: 
Merchanustes and women.  of which opinion chiefly be merchauntꝭ, and good wives, whose ears and liking, friars do wholly study to satisfy. For merchants in case they be handsomely glossed, are wont to give them in Commendum some portion of their misgotten goods, and women besides many other considerations are specially inclined to them, for that they are wont to pour into their bosoms what ever evil will they bear in their hearts against their husbandis.  
Thus, ye consider (I trow) how much this race of Religious men, is indebted unto me, when now with their Ceremonies and fond fantesies of their own, now with their bawling and crying out in pulpits, they do exercise a manner tyranny amongis men, and would be counted for more than Paul's, or Antony's. But seeing they be such jugglers, as can no less unkindly dissemble, and seem not to acknowledge my benefits employed on them, than they are otherwise craftily counterfetctours of holiness, I hold it best to speak no more of them. For I long sore a little now to treat of kings and princes lives, 
Kings & Princis.  who most plainly and gentilmanly, as gentilmen● do entertain me. Whereas if they considered well what belongeth to their estates, now I see not what life might be more careful than theirs, nor less to be desired. For such shall never think that a kingdom should either by usurpation, or any other wrongful title be sought for, as do way with themselves, what a charge he susteigneth on his shoulders, that rightly will execute the office of a prince: who taking upon him the rule of things doth now administer not his own, but rather the affairs of many, whereby he should think of nought else but the comen weal: observing justly the laws, whereof he is both founder, and overseer, to the end his uprightness, and integrity may be a precedent to his underrulers and officers, when either being just and virtuous, like a blissful star of lucky aspect he may bring both health and comfort to all his subjects, or otherwise, like a pestilent Comet, be their ruin and destruction. In as much as meaner men's vices be not so much marked, nor so largely diuu●ged. But a prince is set in that place, whereas if he wry himself never so little from that becometh him, strait ways the infection of the example creepeth contagiously to many men. Besides that, how much more the height of a princis fortune may be a means to pervert him from the right trade, either through pleasure, liberty, adulation, or delicateness, so much the warelier should he resist them, watching diligently, lest at any time being seduced, he do swerver from his duitee. And lastly (omitting treasons, hatredꝭ, and other perillꝭ or dreads, wherewith a prince is infested) if he remember how the doom also of the highest, and most rightful king of all, hangeth over his head, who soon after will call him to account for the least fault he hath done, yea and that the narowlier, the greater state he had committed to him: These things (I say) and many like hereto, if a prince do perpend well, (and perpend them he must needs if he hath wisdom) I believe surely he should take his sleep and food, with less gladness, than a far meaner person doth.  
But now, how many princis have you, which through my procurement, remitting all care and charge hereof to the god, do for the most part only tend their own pleasure? So that admit we feign now the image of some one prince, such as not seldom hath been, a man (for example) unskilled in the laws, enemy in a manner to the comen weal, given only to his peculiar profit, addicted all to voluptuousness, an hater of learning, an hater of liberty, and of the truth, caring nothing less than for the advancement of his country, but rather applying all things to his own pleas●s●e and commodity. And now (on gods name) give him a chain about his neck, 
The apparel of a prince.  for token that all virtues would agreeably be euchayned in him: give him also a crown fret with pearl and stone, in sign he ought to excel others in all princely virtues: than a sceptre in his hand betokenning justice with an upright mind on all sides: lastly a rob of purpre, which signifieth zeal and fervent affection toward his subjects: This manner apparel (I say) if that prince should duly confer with his living, I ween he would be ashamed to wear it, fearing lest some fine expositor might turn all his pomp and solemuesse of royal robes into a derision: namely when he hath no manner part of a prince in him, savyng-onely the clothing.  
Now likewise what say you to Courtiers? 
Courtiers.  these minion gaibeseen gentlemen, who being for the most part as fawning, as servile, as witless, and as abject as can be devised, would be taken yet amongis all men for the principal. But although their pride in other poynctꝭ exceedeth, yet herein surely they show a great modesty, when being contented to have their bodies outwardly garmsshed with gold, with gems, with silks, and with other representacious of virtue and wisdom, they give over the study, and use of the things self to other men, not caring how they leave their minds naked, without any apparel of disciplines: reputing themselves most happy, for that they have learned the phrase of court speech, at every word to chop in these goodly titles of honour, your noble grace, your royal hieghnesse, your excellent majesty: and that their faces like visers will blush at nothing: and finally that in boarding, and in flyring, they can flatter pleasantly. For these be the qualities they hold most mere for a kind gentleman, and ruffler of the court. But now who so narowlier would approach, and enserche their trade of living, should find them I warrant you, to be more blunt and unwitty, than ever were the ancient people of Phoeacia, and thereto more dissolute than those wowers were that desired Penelope's in marriage. Sponsi Penelope's, 
Sponsi Penelope's nebulones, Alemo●●.  ye know what followeth in the verse, which I had rather that Echo (as she ever doth the later words) should declare unto you, than I  
These my hoglyngꝭ sleep every day till midnoone, and having even yet their eyes full of sleep, they send than for some hunting chaplain, who whiles they are in making ready, or rather risyug out of their beddis, may sling them up a post mass. In the neck whereof comes their breakfast, and that scantly finished, go they to dinner. After that to the dice, to tables, to cards, or to bowls, now with jesters, now with fools, now with courtisanes, dances, and daliauncꝭ to trifle out the time, not without one, or two collations afore supper, and after supper their bankettꝭ one upon an other. And thus without feeling any tediousness of their life, they pass easily over, both hours, days, months, years, and whole ages. In sort that I myself am not seldom through haunting with them made the fatter, and gladly would never part company, saving that sometime seeing how amongs the damoysels and Madams of the court, they show themselves in their mastresses' colours, and commonly do vaunt themselves of that they have not, or never did, I can not keep myself from laughter. Moreover seeing how amongis those Nymphs and Madams, each reputeth herself the more worthy of honour and estate, the longer tail she traineth after her. Seeing also how the gentlemen of the court do shove one an other, and press for a show of estimation to be next their prince, as who saith depeliest in his favour. And seeing lastly how they stand in their own conceit, much esteeming themselves, as the more worthy a cap and reverence, the greater chains they have, as if they desired not only to show their richesses in wearing them, but also their strength of shoulders in bearing them. But now (on god half) longer than of late days, Pope holy fathers of Rome, Scarlet cardinals, and blessing bishops, 
Cardinal's ● bishop's.  have not only followed the steps of princes, as touching their pomp and magnificence, but done also what they can to surpass them. Yet surely if a bishop prepended with himself, what is meant by the linen rochet so purely of white that he weareth? Marry that his living likewise should be neat, and clean from any spot of sin: 
The apparel of a bishop.  Or if he thought thus, that his mitre being divided so into two horns, each tip whereof is with the like knob gathered together, were set for a figure of the perfect knowledge he ought to have both in the old and new Testament: Or if he wist that the gloves on his handis did signify, how he ought as purely, and without any soil of woordlinesse to administer the sacramentis: And how his crossers staff admonished him of the wakery charge he should take over his flock: And how his cross borne before him (be he an archbishop) pretended victory over all woordlie affections: These figures (I say) and many like hereto, in case a bishop did construe & confer accordingly, I believe he could not chose but lead an heavy and careful life: Yea but at these bais (I can tell you) they take as little thought herefore, as all their thought is how they may fair feed themselves, remitting all care of their flock unto Christ, or rather resigning the same to such as they call their vicars, and Suffragans. In which case they remember little their name. For Episcopus, is as much to say, as a superintendant or wacheman, who vus●ly tended and took heed to his charge and commission.  
How be it (in deed) as touching fishing for money, and heaping up of treasure baggꝭ, they furnish fully that their names importeth, and therein show them selves to be no blind wachemen. Moreover, if Cardinals likewise did consider (seeing they challenge to succeed in the apostles places) how at their handis also is required that sanctitee and perfection, that the apostles were of: And further, how they are no lord, but rather stewerdꝭ and administrators of spiritual gifts and graces, for the which soon after they must duly and exactly render account: 
The apparel of cardinals.  Yea if they did but argue a while unto themselves upon their garmentis, and think thus: pardy the whiteness, and pure netenesse of this rochet I wear on, signifieth how I also should lead a pure and right innocent life.  
This cramoysen gow●e, which I have underneath it, admonisheth me I should be as fervently inflamed in the love of god. This utter rob also being so large and so long trained, as sufficeth to overspread mine, the most reverend father's moil, were she as lofty as any camel, doth it not pretend, that charity should abovisd, and be so largely spread in me, as I should offer myself to help and relieve all men? be it in teaching, exhorting, coumforting, rebuking, or adverrising my even Christian: or be it in appeasing of waters between countries, or resisting of wicked princis, yea or in spending of my blood for Christ's sake, much more my worldly goods with a glad heart: How be it I see not by reason, what I should do with worldly goods, I, that take upon me wholly to imitate and represent the apostles, who like good souls went poorly and barefooted. These things (I say) if Cardinals did consider and take well to heart, they would not gape so greedily after that dignity, nay willynglier would refuse it, or at least, as did the Primitive apostles, lead a travailsome and careful life, in attending to their offices. Moreover if these thrice holy fathers, 
Bishops of Rome.  Popes of Rome and Christ's vicars (as they name themselves) did as eruestly follow the example of Christ's life, in embracing of poverty, or painful teaching of the people, or in bearing of his cross, and contempt of this world, or if they did but think a while upon the name of Pope, which they challenge peculiarly, and is as much to say, as father, or the title of most holy father, as they ●●ie to be called: Now I see not what men in all the world should (by right) live in greater carefulness and affliction than they. Nor I see not upon what hope the rankest Symoniakes of them might reckon, if they reked hereon, that all their goods and faculties were to scant to deal in bribes to the Cardinals for their voices: or having once purchased that room with their penny, would then so manfully defend and keep it, both with sword, with poison, and with all other efforce.  
Good lord, how many pleasures and commodities should wisdom at one pluck bereave them, in case they did but once look her in the face? Wisdom said I? Nay if they had but one grain of that salt, whereof Christ maketh mention in the gospel, they would not hoard up so huge heaps of gold, so hiegh mountains of honours, so large dominions, so many martial victories, so many offices, so many dispensations, so many revenues, so many taxes, so many pardons, nor keep such a numbered of pampered horses, and slick shorn moils, nor hold such a court and guard about them, with infinite other solacꝭ, to abound, or rather swim in delices. Ye see (I trow) in these few woordis, how great a fair, and in manner a sea of pleasuris and worldly wealthiness I have set afore you. In place whereof is there any of you thinketh, 
virtues apostolic.  that Peter's successors at these days, would willingly embrace fasting, watching, tears in vehement prayer, daily preaching, studying on the scripture, or sighing at men's offences, with thousand other such dreary troubles, which they daily shouldehtan be subject to? Or do you judge peradventure they could easily find in their hearts, that so many scriveners, so many registrers, so many notaries, 
The rabble at Rome.  so many advocates, so many promoters, so many secretaries, so many moyleters, so many horsekeepers, so many gentlemen of household, so many applesquyers, so many bawds, (I had almost spoken a softer word, 
Sodomy.  but I fear me it would have sounded harder to your ears) briefly so great a rabblement of sundry men as do way down (I cry you mercy) I meant, do wait on the See of Rome, should have cause to cry out on them, when with the turn of an hand through their conversion to a sobrer course of living, those might well enough be driven to die for hunger? specially seeing above the rigour and extremity of such an heinous act, a far more detestable inconvenience should follow, when thereby the princis self, and pillars of the church, yea the very Lamps (on gods name) which light the world, should be called back again to a bag and a staff? whereas else they have found out so good a shift, and conveyance, what ever labour or toil belongeth to their offices, to cast it wholly on Peter and Paul's shoulders, who have leisure enough to weld it, whiles they may so good cheap reserve unto themselves all the pleasure and commodities of the same? whereby it cometh to pass, and all through my drift, that no kind of men live more delicately, nor with less care than these holy fathers do. For as for Christ, he (they think) may easily enough be pleased, so long as they show themselves like pope's in their Mystical Pontificalibus, bolstered up with ceremonies, and titles of blissedness, reverendnes, and sanctitee, to bliss and curse whom they list: what for the rest, it is stolen with them, and out of use at these days to do miracles: painful, to teach the people scholerlyke, to expound scripture: to idle a thing, to pray: far more milkesoplyke and womannisshe, to cast forth tears: vile, to be needy: dishonourable, to be overcome: and most unfitting for them who scantly will admit kings and emperors to the kissing of their feet:  
Finally it is an unsavoury thing, to die: and as reproachable, to be hanged on the cross: So that refusing to stand to any of these hard conditions, they rest only upon feats of arms, with also those sugared and doulcet benedictions of theirs, mentioned by Paul, with a thousand whereof I ween they would part more liberally, than with one penny: and stick hardily to their interdictions, suspensions, aggravations, redaggravations, anathemisations, and painted pictures set up in churches, representing such as they note for cursed, or heretics, with also that their dreadful thunderbolt of excommunication, the dint whereof at their only beck is able to ding down silly souls a thousand miles beyond the deepest dungeon in hell: which thunderbolt they level yet against no men so vehemently, as against those, who through the devils instinction do go about to crop Peter's patrimony: 
Peter's patrimony,  which (for all Peter's own words in the gospel, Lord, we have left all to follow the) they expound to be lands, cities, taxes, customs, and dominions. For maintenance whereof while kindled with the fervent zeal of Christ, they fight both with sword, and with fire, than they ween they do gaily, and apostolically defend Christ's espouse the church, in rebutting and manfully (as they say) forchasing of her enemies. As who saith, there be any enemies more pernicious to Christis church, than wicked bishop's themselves? who suffer Christ's name for lack of their daily remembering, to grow out of the people's knowledge: & do bind Christ to certain money laws of their own: and with wrested gloss and expositions do bastard him: and lastly through the abominable precedent of their life do eftsoons crucify him. In sort, that whereas Christ's church was first founded upon the blood of him her autour, and raised up with the blood of the apostles, and enlarged with the blood of so many martyrs: now, as though Christ were no Christ, or that he were not able as before to conserve his chosen, they in her defence do try their quarrels only at the swords point. That whereas war (to speak absolutely) is so cruel and despiteous a thing, as rather it becometh wild beastis, than men, thereto so furious and rageyug, as the very poets do feign, that the Furies of hell do let is slip: also so pestilent a thing, as draweth for train all froth and corruption of manners after it: Further so unjust a thing, as for the most part is best executed by the veriest thieves and distressours that be: and lastly so unchristian a thing, as in nothing accordeth with Christ. Yet do these my romish prelate's, settyug all other things a side, only study and employ their time on war. In which exercise ye shall see some of them being so old and wasted, that their bones rattle in their skins, so lively yet turmoiling, and prone bend thereto, as if they were waxen young again: neither sparing for cost, nor wearied through labours, ne any thing grudged in mind or aghast at it, though thereby all laws, religion, peace, and tranquillity in humane things be turned topsetturuie. For work they never so ungodly, yet fail they not of some glosers learned men, who in hope of promotion, will name and expound this their open madness to be a Zeal, to be a Piety, to be a Spiritual manhood in them, bringing it by a new found means to pass, that now a man may thrust his sword into his brother's belly, observing nevertheless that love and perfit charity, which Christ biddeth each Christian to owe an other. And truly I am as yet in doubt, whether bishops in Almain have gevin, or rather taken example hereat: seeing that somewhat plainelier, and without any observance at all, used either in their weed, or blessing, with such like ceremonies as bishops would be known by, they do plainly show themselves to be temporal princis, in sort that in a manner they count it vilitee for them to yield their valiant souls to God, any where else than in a fought field. And now, do not single priests 
Priests,  (trow ye) cling as near as they can to their prelate's devotion? for (lo) how warlike both with swords, with stanes, and with stones, yea and by the teeth also the good vicars can strive for their tytherightꝭ? and how narrowly look they to find in old writ or in doctors, any sentence serving for their purpose, to give terror thereby to their simple parissheners, yea and bear them down, that they ought to pay more than their tenths limited. But for all their diligence in that behalf, they are as indiligent remembrers what is written in many places of scripture concerning their duties, and what they on the other part ought to render and re●paie unto the people. No not their shaven crowns at lest can warn them, how priests must be free from all worldliness, to pass on nothing else, saving heavenly treasure. But sooner at these days my jolly sir john's do take it for a sufficient furniture of their rooms, as long as they mumble over their ports service, they care not how rashly, which (on my faith) I wonder what god heareth, or understandeth? seeing they them selves do almost neither hear, nor wot what they say, when only with their lips they make a certain buszing, no whit proceeding from the heart. How be it (to say the truth) it is a comen tatche naturally given to all men as well as priestis, to watch well for their own lucre: for none is so unskilful, that in this point can not scan the laws to the uttermost. But in case there be any weight or charge thereon depending, that the clergy hath politicly learned to cast on others shoulders. For like as princes are wont to ordain under them many Deputies and officers, who likewise do substitute Subdeputies in their steeds, so doth the Clergy of their goodness and singular modesty, remit all care of holiness to the lay people, and lay folk charge such therewith as they call Ecclesiastical or churchemen, as who saith all manner Christians had not to do with the church, or as if they professed no such thing by their first vow of Baptism. Than again priestis that are named seculars, as dedicate to the world and not to Christ, do lay all this burden on regular priestis, who likewise turn it over to Religious men, and religious men of an easier rule commend the same to those of a straighter rule. But all with one assent do can their charge on friars necks, who natheless find a means yet to convey the same to monks of the charterhouse, in which only order, holiness as in her grave lieth hidden, yea and so hidden, as scant at any time she can be seen. Likewise holy fathers of Rome in tender consideration of the daily business, wherewith they are occupied about their money harvest, are feign to put bishops in trust with all other too too Apostolic labours. But bishops disdain not through humility to let persons supply their rooms: And persons like good fellows would their vicars should have the doing thereof: Than vicars stick not to suffer friars to encroach upon them: And they again make resignment thereof, to such as daily do shear the woulle of Christ's poor flock.  
But (hola) it is best for me to stop here, seeing I took not upon me to bolt out the manner of bishops and priests livings now a days: lest any man should dame how I rather intended to ratle up their vices, than to spread mine own praise, 
Folly exc●seth her ●el● that she speaketh of the wicked & not of the good men.  or lest ye might mistake me, as if good and virtuous princis were taunted of me, whiles foolisshely according to my custom I do comménde the wicked. Nay rather I have touched thus much, with few words, to the end it may appear, how no mortal man can live sweetly in joy and pleasure, unless he be a brother of my fraternitee, and have me to his friend and good lady. For else, who is he dare look for good hap, 
Fortune ●lied wit● folly.  seeing Fortune herself, the guidress of all worldly chances, is so much bend on my side, as ever for the most part she is heavy mistress, and contrarions to these wisemen, whereas t● fools on the other side she dealeth her gifts so largely, as if she crammed the same into their mouths whiles they are sleeping. Ye remember (I trow) what is written of Timotheus that fortunate captain of the athenians, whose good hap and success in things gave first place to this proverb, sleep he never so fast, his net catcheth for him. (For ye shall understand, that of his continual prosperous fortune peincters took occasion to portray his image sleeping, and fortune in the mean while throwing into his nets both cities and dominions.) And likewise this other proverb, The howlate flieth (whereby was meant, that like as Pallas, to whom the howlate is cousecrate, was wont to give good and happy success to many of the athenians purposes unadvisedly enterprised: So likewise that army, which had Timotheus once for captain, was ever victorious, though ten to one it should have chanced otherwise. But these proverbs on the other side do make against wisemen, He was borne under an unlucky moon, or upon a cross day: Or, he hath S●ians● horse (which horse as writers do affirm, had for his beauty divers masters successively, who all at last had evil end.) Or, he hath gotten Tolosan gold, (the owners whereof sped no better than the former) with many such other proverbs, which I hold it best to overpass, lest ye thought I had rob my friend Erasmus Adages. To return therefore to my matter, I say, 
Who they be that for●●ne ad●●aun●eth.  that Fortune favoureth men not of the most forecast, and loveth bold hazardours, such as refuse no chance of the dice. But wisdom maketh men the warer, and more fearful to adventure any thing. wherefore ye see daily how these wisemen are ever pounded in beggary and necessity, and fed with smoke, leading forth their times as unregarded, unestemed, and unaccepted. 
Fools obtain promotions before wise men.  Whereas my fools on the other side do flow in richesse and promotions, and for short do flourisshe on all sides. For surely, and if ye count it no small parcel of felicity to stand in good grace with great men, and live familiarly amongis those my golden gods: now I see not what wisdom can avail you, nay rather how it should not much disprofit you, seeing they for the most part being unlearned, do reprove learning, as that they know not. Or if richesse be to be sought for, I pray you what gain can the merchant have, when as wisdom biddeth, his conscience at any time should stagger at a false oath, or being taken with a plain lie, he did blush thereat, or set but a barley corn by all those grudgeing doubts, that wisemen put upon theft and usury. Moreover, who so gapeth after spiritual dignities and promotions, (as there be ravens enough that watch for such carein) let him think that an ass or a cowherde shall sooner be advanced to the same than any wise, or learned man. Than in case thou esteemest women's love and dalliance (which sure is one of the greatest partis of my play) They good podes are wholly addicted to fools and trifletalkers, yea none otherwise do abhor and sho●ne a wiseman, than they would do a Skorpion. Briefly, who so ever they be, that intend to live frankly in feast and gladness, for the first point will see well that Master Sage be shut out of the doors, and sooner let in any manner beast than him. Finally, what ever side ye turn you to, be it to Prelates, to Princes, judges, Rulers, friends, or enemies, all thing is gotten for money, 
Money's force.  which like as a wiseman despiseth, so I think it be, because he can not come by it, it standeth so far from his reach, as if the fox would eat no grapes. Well, all be it there be no end nor measure of my praises, yet it must behove me at last to make an end of my talk, I will leave therefore. So that first I may briefly touch unto you, how I want not of many great authors, who with their writings and deeds also have blasonned and set me forth, lest else perchance ye might judge, that foolisshely I stand in mine own conceit, or lawyers might use cavillations against me, saying, I alleged no books for my proof. Go to therefore, let us allege somewhat for ourself, and rehearse up as they do things nothing serving to the purpose. 
Folly proveth her praises by ●uctoritees out of 〈◊〉.  So first I say, that none will deny this old saw to be true, how whereas the thing self wanteth, there it is best at lest to countrefaict the same, whereupon young children that go to school, have for one of their first lessons this verse of Cato taught them, which saith: It is most wisdom for a man in place to countrefaicte Folly. Now therefore I pray you consider with yourselves, how great a weal and benefit must Folly in deed be, whereas the countrefaicting and shadow only of the same, deserveth so much praise at learned men. Amongis whom mine own good Horace, as a fat and fair fed hogling of Epicures heard, adviseth men to mingle Folly with their grave counsels, (all be it the addition he maketh of short Folly, was not all of the cunnyngest.) Also in an other place he saith, It is a sweet thing to be a fool when place requireth: And than again he confesseth, he had rather be holden for a fool and an idiot, than being wise, to be barked at, and bitten of every body. And Homer likewise, whereas in all conditions he praiseth and commendeth Telemachus, yet in divers places he is wont to call him childisshe and imprudent, which name these writers of Tragedies do gladly for a token of good luck give to boys, and stripelyngꝭ. But for God's sake, what is else conteigned in Homer's whole Poesy of the sacred book called Ilias, save only the contentious debates of foolish kings, and foolish people? whereby it appeareth, that all the world is full of fools, as Cicero said rightly, in which so few words he gave me as absolute and ample a praise, 
The worth full of foo● les.  as might be. For who is he that knoweth not the value and goodness of a thing to be the more acceptable, the largelier and more copiously that the same is spread into all parts? But it may be (ye will say) that Christian men give no credence to these painem authors: 
authorities out of scripture for folly.  in which case (if ye think so good) I am content to prop up, and found'st (as doctors say) my praises upon such texts as for witness of the same I shall fetch out of holy scripture. first of all praying divines of their lawful favour, that they will licence me so to do.  
Next than because I take a great charge in hand, and it were no good manner to call the Muses eftsoons from their fountain of Helicon, to come back so great a journey as is from thence hither, namely for a matter smally perteigning to their faculty, peradventure it were better wished of me, whiles I play the Doctress of divinity, and pass through these brambles, that the soul of Duns would a little leave Sorbone College, and enter into my breast, be he never so thorny, and fuller of pricles than is any urcheon, to depart again when I have done once, and if he list to the gallows.  
That would god I might properly take a new conutenance, and were clad in a doctourlike apparel: saving I fear lest some of you would lay theft to my charge, as though I had privily pi●ed our Master doctor's cunning out of their study desks, because I can so much divinity without book. But have ye no marvel though my continual and daily conversation amongs doctors, maketh me to bear away some one word or other: seeing the figtree image of Priapus could in process of time, as his master red Homer, mark and remember some Greek vocables. And likewise Lucyan cock through long continuance and conversing amongis men, did learn so perfectly their speech. But now (ou gods name) to our matter: Solomon the Ecclesiaste writeth in his first chapiter, that the number of fools is infinite. Now where he speaketh of an infinite number, is it not as much, as if he comprehended all men therein, saving only a certain, so few, as I can not tell if at any time they were seen at all? Much more expressly doth jeremy confess the same: for each man (saith he) is made a fool in his own wisdom: So only unto God he loweth wisdom, and assigneth folly for peculiar unto all men.  
Than again a little abou● that, he would no man should glory in his own wisdom: and why so mine own good jeremy? Forsooth (will he say) for that man ●ath no wisdom at all. But to return again to the Ecclesiaste. what meant he (trow ye) by his protestation, when he loudly cried out so, vanity of vanities, and all is vanity? what? but (as afore I said) that this humane life is nought but a certain great play of Folly? confirming (as who saith) that noble sentence of Cicero ● little afore recited, how all this world is full of fools. Moreover, where the other wise Ecclesiasticus said, A fool changeth like the moon, but a wiseman abideth in one state as the son? what signified he else hereby? but that mankind is altogethers foolish, and God only deserveth the name of wisdom. For ye shall understand, that by the moon (according to the exposition of doctors) is figured mankind: and by the son, which is the head and fountain of all light, is meant god himself the father, and original of all sapience. Whereunto this maketh greatly, that Christ himself in the gospel, denied any man ought to be called good; saving god himself.  
Now therefore if every man that is not wise, must be holden for foolish, and who so ever is good, is wife also, (according as the stoics do affirm) than per consequeut ye must needs confess, that mortal men are altogethers wrapped in the bands of Folly. Furthermore, Solomon in his xxv chapter saith: Folly maketh fools glad: wherein he confesseth plainly, that nothing in this life can be sweet or pleasant, unless that folly yield the same unto you: and hereunto maketh that saying also: who exhorteth you to wisdom, exhorteth you to sorrow: and in much understanding, is much indignation: and doth not this noble preacher plainly confirm the same, saying in his vii chapiter: That the heart of a wiseman is whereas sorrow is, and the heart of a fool whereas gladness is. Therefore Solomon thought it not sufficient to consume time about the knowledge of wisdom, unless he further should busy himself to know me also.  
That in case ye smally believe myve, mark I pray you his own woordis in the first chapter: And I have applied my heart (saith he) to know wisdom and learning, and likewise to know errors and folly: wherein ye must note this well, how it maketh much for my dignity, that he putteth folly in the latter place, namely seeing the Ecclesiaste, or church preacher wrote it, and pardie ye know how the church order willeth, that who so is first in dignity, shall go last in place, to the end, that how ever in other points, yet herein at lest he do observe the precept of the gospel. But folly to be far more noble and excellent than wisdom, I ween I can prove you by witness of the Ecclesiasticus, who so ever was autour of that book in the xliiii chapter of the same: whose text surely I hold it not best to recite unto you, before ye somewhat shall have aided the induction of mine argument, with aunswearing handsomely unto me, like as Plato introduceth those that dispute with Socrates to do. So first I demand of you, what things to your judgement ought soonest to be kept close and hidden, other those that are precious and rare to be gotten, or other that are vile & dogchepe in every place? do you hold your peace? Now surely how ever ye would dissemble, yet shall this old greek proverb answer for you: the waterpotte is set behind every door: the authority of which proverb let none of you be so ●●godly to refelle, seeing Aristotle himself, the god of our master doctors doth in many places recite it● and in sadness I can not think, that any of you all is so mad, to leave gold or precious stones in the hiegh way: nay rather ye lay them up in your most secret closettꝭ, and yet, that snot uffising, ye double lock them in the strongest coffers ye have, whereas dirt ye leave lying still on the dunghill. Ergo, if that be hidden, that is more precious, and the other vile things are left abroad as untended to, is it not manifest now, that wisdom which he forbiddeth to be hidden, is far more vile than folly, which must according to his read be locked up and kept as close as may be? And now I am content to rehearse you his own woordis, (which are) Better is the man that hideth his folly, than he who hideth his wisdom. But what say you to this that scripture attributeth to fools a certain benignity, and gentle whiteness of nature, condemning wisemen for proud and despisours of all others save themselves? For so do I plainly take the meaning of the Ecclesiaste in the ten chapiter. But a fool (saith he) that walketh in the street, being himself unwise, supposeth all men to be fools as he. Now is it not (I pray you) a sign of an exceeding gentleness in him to make every body his match and fellow? that whereas none so base will not meanly stand yet in self reputation, his courtesy is such to deal every man a fleece of his praise. Therefore Solomon being so great a king, was nought ashamed of my name when he said in his xxx chapter, I am most fool of all men: Nor Paul doctor of the gentiles thought scorn thereof, when writing to the Corinthians he said: I speak it as unwise, that I more than others. etc. as who saith it were a great dishonour for him to be overcome in folly. But here (lo) me thynkꝭ I hear how I am hissed at by some of these greek professors, who study scripture in that tongue, and make as though other doctors at these days saw nothing, no more then crows do when their eyes are pecked out, whiles with certain Annotations of their own, they go about to dusk men's eyes as with smoke, amongis which sort of notemakers, my friend Erasmus, whom often for honour's sake and good will I do mention, may be counted the second, if not the first. They (like enough) will reprove me, and (o) what a foolish allegation is this (will they say)? and how meet a witness for dame folly to bring in? whereas the apostles meaning is far otherwise, than she dreameth it to be: for in these words he would not be taken for more fool than other, but when he had said, They are ministers of Christ, and so am I also, to the end yet he should not be holden for a vainglorious vaunter in that he made himself coequal with the other, he added as by correction, I more than other, signifying thereby, how not only he was match to the other apostles, but somewhat also their superior: which although he would should be taken for very truth, yet lest the arrogant avowing thereof might partly have offended men's ●ares, he did first shield the same with the pretext of Folly, (saying) I speak it as the unwyser, because he witted what privilege fools have to speak truth without offence. Well, what ever Paul mente when he wrote thus, I leave hardly to them to dispute 〈◊〉: because I will ynglier do follow the authority of other gross and fat doctors, who amongs vulgar folk, are in greatest reputation, so farfoorth as a great part of learned men also had liefer (by god) for more surety be deceived with them, than judge upon righter knowledge with these studiers of the scripture in the three toungꝭ. For no man setteth more by these smatterers in the Greek tongue, than they would do by as many chattering iaes: chiefly seeing that a certain glorious doctor, whose name I do suppress for the nonce, 
Nicola●● de Lyra.  lest else these iays would chatter this greek taunt against him, An ass to the harp, doth in expounding both magistrally and theologically this self same text from this point forward, I more than others, make it to be the head of a new sentence, putting also a new cleft and division in the same, which sure he could never have done, without a wondrous conveyance of Logic. But for more plainness I will repeat unto you his own words, not only in form, but also in matter, (as schoolmen say): And this was his exposition. I speak it as the more unwise, that is to say (quoth he) in case I seem unwise unto you because I do coequal myself unto the false apostles, than more unwise will you count me, in advancing myself afore them. Nevertheless this goodly e●positour not much beneath that, as if he had forgotten himself, falleth quite into an other sense. But whereabout go I now? Shall I stand to one only example in my defence, 
Holy 〈◊〉 likened to a Cheuere● skin.  seeing all doctors take it commonly for their privilege, to stretch out heaven (that is to say) holy writ like a chevril skin? Seeing also how in Paul's epistles, the woordis of scripture far as if they were of contrary senses, whereas being set in their right places, they do vary never a deal, if we give credit to Hierome. For when Paul saw at Athenes an Altar dedicate to the Goddis, the entitling whereof he thought good to bring in for a proof and corroboration of the Christian belief, leaving all the rest that made against his purpose, he took only the two latter words of the same, (which were these) to the unknown god, yet in some part he was content to change them to: for the whole superscription was set up in this manner.  
To the gods of Asia, Euro●a, and Africa, to the unknown, and estrange Gods. So upon this example of Paul I ween it proceedeth, that commonly at these days my fair brood of doctors do enterprise to nip of here and there, four or five woordis of the whole, yea and those some thing altered and corrupted (if it stand them upon) to apply the same so botched together to their own sense and commodity, how ever that that goeth before, and that that followeth, doth nothing serve to purpose, or rather make clea●e against them. Which their said juggling they convey yet by so happy an unshamefastness, as in this point civilians have cause oftentimes to envy doctors of divinity, when now in Allegations nothing making for the matter, they be so far passed by them. For I pray you (of friendship) tell me, what thing may be to hard for these doctors to bring about? seeing how that great aforesaid doctor (I had almost blabbed forth his name again, but I fear me I tell you of the greek adage) could draw out of Luke's words, the construction of a sentence no more agreeable unto Christ's meaning therein, than fire is with water? For Christ when the imminent danger of his death approached, what time, or never, it becometh good servants most constantly to take their masters part, and defend him to their powers, as confederates in league do one for an other, to the end yet he might drive all confidence in such manner defence out of his Apostles hertis, axed of them, whether they wanted aught, what time he sent them forth so barely without any manner provision, not giving them so much as shoes to save their feet from thorns and stones, nor yet a wallet to put their meat in? whereunto when they had answered, that they lacked nothing: But now (quoth he) who so of you hath a wallette, let himself it, and his bag also, yea and who so hath not, make he sale at lest of his cote, to buy him a sword. Now whereas it is manifest enough, that all Christ's doctrine pretendeth nought but meekness, patience, and contempt of this mortal life, which of you perceiveth not, what he meant in this place? For I take it plainly that he said thus, to give his Ambassadors the Apostles, the better courage, to the end that they not only should set no store by shoes, nor by vitailing bags, but should cast away their coats also, the nemblier and more deliverly to go about their charge and commission of the gospel preaching, providing themselves of nought else but only a sword, not that sword that thieves and murderers do occupy, but the sword of the spirit, being whetted all on charity, whose point pierceth into the inward partis of man's heart, and cutteth all fleshly affections thence, so clean, as nought remaineth saving piety, and ardent love towards god. But mark ye now (of fellowship) how warlike this famous doctor wresteth the plain & clear sense hereof. For by the sword (saith he) is meant defence against persecution: and by the wallette is understood competent provision we should make of things necessary to live withal. As who saith, Christ's mind were changed, because him seemed that he sent forth his Ambassadors not half royally furnished, and therefore did recant here, and call back his first Instructions given them. Or as if he had here forgotten those words, which afore he spoke unto them with such a vehemency, ye shall be blessed when ye be persecuted withal kind of outrage and tourment, but make ye no resistance against those evisses ye shall suffer: for blessed be the meek in spirit, not those that are fierce, and stubborn hearted. Or as if it were quite out of his remembrauce, that in other places he likeneth them to sparrows, and lilies, as touching the small care that they should take for their living. Now, so much lacked that he would have them go weponlesse, as rather they should sell their coats from their backs to buy the same: and sooner go naked, than without a sword by their side. Moreover like as under the name of Sword (as he expoundeth it) all manner of defence is contained, that may repel injury, and violence, so under the name of bag, is comprised what ever provision is made to live withal. And thus (lo) this deep expositor of Gods will and meaning setteth forth the apostles complete armed, with javelins, bows and arrows, slings, and half hakes, to preach the gospel, and Christ's cross. Lading them moreover with great males, and paniers well stuffed with victuals, lest else perchance they might sometime depart from their inns undyned. No not so much as this, might any thing move this gay learned man, that Christ himself shortly after rebuking Peter biddeth the sword should be put up again, which afore he commanded so earnestly to be bought: and that it never was herb how the apostles did at any time occupy sword and buckler, to resist their adversaries violence, which nevertheless they would not have sticked to do, in case that Christ's meaning in these aforesaid words had been such, as he expoundeth it to be.  
There is an other doctor likewise of no less reputation than this former, but for honour's sake I name him not, who interpreting a place of Abacuc the prophet, where he saith, The skins of the land of Madian shall be disparkled and torn asunder: nothing considering that the Prophet spoke of the M●dianistes lodgeynges or tents for the field, which were made of beasts skins, as anciently men in warfare used, writeth plainly, that Abacuc did prophecy there of the flaying of Saint Barthelmeus skin. I myself not long agoe● was present (as many times I am wont to be) at a certain disputation, where divers doctors were assembled. There when one of them by chance had put forth a question, by what authority of scripture heretics ought sooner to be coumptrolled by the fire, than confuted by arguments? another ancient father, that sat by him, being so crabbed faced, as only the complexion of his hanging brows might tell you strait he was master doctor, answered in a great choler, that Paul himself was the first ordeigner of that law, whereas in one of his epistles it is red, Haereticum hominem post unam et alteram correptionem devita (But I axe pardon at your delicate ears, because I can not otherwise than in the latin phrase express it unto you) I exhort you (saith Paul) to devite or shun the company of heretics, after you shall have once or twice reproved them for their erroneous opinions. Now when this doctor had thundered forth this text in a big voice, making often repetition of this latin word (devita) so that many merua●●ed now what the devil he ailed, at last he concluded, that heretics must be lifted de, vita, making two words thereof, as who saith lifted out of life.  
Many laughed at this his fine exposition, and some there were yet, who took the same for a very Theologass invention. But whereas others (that notwithstanding) began to reply, by and by rose up an other much solemn and irrefragable doctor to take his part. And thus lieth the case (quoth he) It is written, Suffer thou no misdooer to live, now sins that every heretic misdooeth, ergo thou must suffer no heretic on live. This syllogism being thus trussed up by him, (lord) how all the assistance began to wonder at his wittiness, thoroughly coufyrming his sentence, yea and that the sooner, seeing none of them ●ad the wit or learning to consider, how that law was first ordained against lottemongers, enchanters and sorcerers, such as the Hebrews in their tongue name witches. For else why should not fornicators, and drunkards by as good reason, be punished with the like pain of death? But I play the very fool in going about to tell unto you, all such bald devices of these furde hoodedmen, being in deed so innumerable, as would not (on my conscience) be comprehended in all the large volumes of Crisyppus, and Didymus, taking hardly Fytzharbertꝭ abregementes for advantage. Only my meaning was, to advertise you, that seeing those divine master doctors durst take upon them to wrest and mistake scripture in such sort, than much more I must be borne with, being but a young doctress, and like a woman shooting forth my bolt at the gainest, if sometime may chance I lay not all my allegations fully by level. But now at last I leap back again to saint Paul, and Gladly (saith he) ye do bear with unwise men, (speaking it by himself) also in an other place, receive you me, as unwise that I am: and further, I speak not this precisely as upon gods precept, but rather in mine own unwisdom. Than again, we (saith he) are become fools for Christ's sake: Do you here now how great praises of Folly this so great an autour allegeth, yea and that more is, he plainly enjoygneth Folly unto us, for a thing most necessary, and right, importing to salvation? For who so seemeth (saith he) to be wise amongs you, let him become a fool, to the end he be wise in deed. How say you my masters, would ye any more evident proofs than this, or an other example also in Luke's gospel, where jesus calleth the two disciples fools, with whom he joined company by the way? This in especial may be taken for a marvel, 
These arguments must be taken as spoken by Folly, not that Erasmus meant so in deed.  how Paul so great a divine spareth not to attribute a manner foolisshenesse, yea unto god also: where he saith, what ever of god is foolish, is wiser yet than any thing in men: in expounding of which text Origene denieth it to be possible, that this folly may be referred to the general opinion of men upon the same. As appeareth by this other text of Paul, to reason of the mysteries of the cross, is surely to such as believe it not and do perish in their perverseness, nought else but Folly. But aye, what aileth me to seek so many texts of Scripture for witnesses of my words, seeing Christ himself in the psal●ier doth plainly speak thus unto the father, Thou knowest mine unwysedome? So, not without some cause and respect we see in scripture, how fools and simple souls stand hieghly in Goddis favour, which I take to be, that like as great princes have wisemen in jealousy and suspicion, as julius Caesar had Brutus and also Cassius, whereas he nothing held himself adread of drunken Mark Anthony, and as Nero mistrusted Seneca, and Dionysius stood in doubt of Plato, whereas freely on the other side they gave themselves to the pleasant company of men, of a grosser and more simple capacity: So in like rate doth Christ blame and reprove these worldly sages, who fully cleave and stand to their own wisdom. This by Paul's woordis is confirmed, where he saith, God hath chosen him out those that the world reputed for fools. 
By Folly in these places is meant godly symplicitee and by wisdom a worldly ●o 〈◊〉.  And in an other place: God hath disposed to save the world by foolishness, seeing that by wisdom it might not be conserved. Yea God himself doth sufficiently confess the same, whereas he crieth by the mouth of the prophet, I shall confound the wisdom of wisemen, and reprove the prudence of Sages: So Christ in an other place rendeth thank unto the father, that he had hidden the mystery of salvation from wisemen, and disclosed the same to youngelinges, (That is to say) to fools, (For so the Greek word signifieth.)  
And hereto serve the manifold nips and taunts, wherewith Christ in divers places of the gospel, bayteth Pharisees, and Scribes, and Doctors of the law, taking earnestly yet the part of simple and unlearned folks. For is it not as much to say, Woe be unto you, ye Scribes and Pharisees, as woe be unto you, ye wisemans' But where find you that ever he charged either yong●lynges, or women, or fishers, with that so heavy a word? For it seemeth properly that he delighted much in their simplicity, even like as those kindis of dumb snastes were most acceptable unto him, that were farthest removed from all Forelike wiliness. And therefore chose he rathest to ride on an ass, all be it (so pleasing him) he might as safely have bestridden a lions back. We read also that the holy ghost descended 〈◊〉 the likeness of a Culuer, and not of an Eagle, or a Puttock. And besides this, scripture in many places maketh mention of hearts, of fauns, of lambs, and such silly beasts. Like as Christ doth call his elect and chosen by the name of Sheep, which beast is of all others the unwysest (witness this proverb of Aristotle) his manners savour of the sheep, or he hath shepishe conditions: which quippie in way of reproach is used against blockeheades of the very sklendrest capacity. And yet we see, how Christ professeth himself to be the herdsman of such a flock: Yea and that more is, delighted himself in the name of Lamb, that john the Baptist gave him, when he poincted him thus to the people: Lo● here the lamb of God: which ressemblaunce is likewise cited in many places of the Apocalypse. Now all these texts that I have alleged, do they no● plainly testify, that mortal men being ●ooles, are godly also? and that Christ himself minding the relief and redemption of mankyndes folly, although he was the ineffable wisdom of the father, became yet a manner fool, whereas taking man's nature upon him, he was found both in form and habit like unto other men. Euin as Paul saith, he was made sin also, to cure and heal the sins of the world: to which sins yet it pleased him to ministre none other medicines, than the Folly of the cross, by the hands of the Apostles, being gross and unskilled men: whom ●atheles he as diligently did persuade unto foolisshenesse, as otherwise he retired and dishorted them from wisdom, in alluring them by exemples showed upon Children, upon birds of the air, and other things smallly sensed or no whit, as which live by no art nor fordrifte, and likewise in warning them to take no care how they should use their words, when they were brought afore judges and presidents, and further in forbidding them to seek out the account of times, or the smallest moments of times. To the end (as who saith) they should not lean to their own prudence, but with whole thought and mind depend on him, remitting all unto his discretion. Whereunto this also may be applied, that god the Creator and first former of all things forbade Adam under penaltee of death he should not taste of the fruit of the tree of Science or knowledge. As who saith Science were the mere poison to felicity: According whereto, Paul also doth openly reprove science for a thing most hurtesome and pernicious, 
The tasting of the fruit of the tree of knowledge brought in ●eath.  seeing it puffeth up the mind of man with self glory: Like as saint Bernard also following (as I take it) Paul's said opinion, expoundeth the hill, whereon Lucifer established his seat, to be the hill of Science. And perchance it should not be the feeblest argument, to say that fools find so much grace and favour afore god, as to Folly only is given pardon and forgiveness of trespasses, whereas to wisdom not so much as the leastiote is remitted.  
In sort that who so ever do axe at god forgiveness of their sins, although they wittingly did commit the same, yet will they use a certain colour and pretext of Folly for their excuse. For so doth Aaron in the book of Numbres (if I well remember me) desire pardon of the punishment that his wives faults deserved, saying, I pray thee (O lord) not to lay to our charge this sin, which we have foolisshelie committed. And so doth Saul pray David to forgive him, For it appeareth (said he) that I have done foolisshely. Thou again the self David speaketh fair and humbly to the lord, in this wise, But I pray thee (O lord) to pardon the iniquity of thy servant, seeing we have done foolisshely. As if he thought he should obtain no mercy, unless he had laid Folly and inconsidraunce to b●●e. But what speak we of David? knowing how Christ the son of god hanging on the cross did in this wise make intercession for his enemies, Father, forgive them, and laid none other excuse, than, for they know not what they do. So Paul in like manner writing to Timothe said, But herefore have I obtained the mercy of god, in as much as ignorantly I offended in mine incredulity. Now what is it to say, I offended ignorantly, but that, I did it through folly and not through malice? or what other exposition can ye make, of herefore have I obtained mercy, than that else I should not have obtained it, not having laid the wite on Folly? And no less maketh for us, that saying of David in the Psaltier, Lord, take not to heart the trespasses of my youth, and mine ignorauncies remember not. Do you mark now what two colours he bringeth in for his purgation? that is to say Youth, which age I do ever accompany, and ignorancies, speaking it in the Plural numbered, to express thereby the greater copy and habounbance of his Folly. Finally, as it were an endless labour to tell you infinite such exemples, so to knit up shortly, I say in my conceit, that Christian Religion seemeth to have a certain sybship with simplicity, and devout foolisshenesse, 
These words must not be wrested to any ●uill sense otherwise than the autour ●●ent.  in nothing agreeing with worldly wisdom. But if ye axe me, as how? than do no more but consider how children, old folks, women, and fools, are those amongis others that show themselves devoutest, and most inclined to church service, and holy things, rejoicing to be present thereat, in sort that ever at Mass time ye shall see them approach nearest unto the altars, even through a certain instinction of natural silliness provoking them to god. Think also how the very first authors and founders of Christian Religion were as sharp adversaries of all Science, and men trusting to their own cunning, as otherwise friendly embrasorus of simplicity and plainness. Lastly perpend ye thus, how no manner fools are in appearance more ideotelike, than such as are totally ravished, and inflamed with the ardent zeal of Christian charity. So loveshly they deal their goods abroad, forget all injuries done unto them, suffer themselves to be deceived, put no difference between friends and foes, abhor all pleasures and delights of the body, are fed up and made fat with fasting, watching, tears, labours, and despites, despise their own life, end desire death above life, briefly seem to be so astoned and passed all comen sensis, which men live by, as if their souls dwelled not in those bodies they bear about with them, but rather in some other mansion place. Which strange trade of theirs I know not how to call, but well may it to the comen judgement of men, appear to be a very madness, or ra●yng of the wits. Marvel ye the less therefore, that the apostles were judged by the wicked ethnics to be drunkards, 
Take these words to be spoken under the person of Folly.  as if their heads were overcharged with new wine. And that Paul likewise was holden for mad, of Festus the precedent of jury, in these words, Thou ravest Paul, and much learning of books hath turned the into a madness. But seeing I have once taken upon me to play the doctress, putting on a lions hide (as they say) let me not stick now to go through withal, and to teach you this also, that the self same felicity, which Christians do so hotly desire, 
Folly speaketh.  and by so many labours do seek for, is nought else than a certain kind of raving, in the spirit, and godly foolisshenesse. Which words I would not ye should grate on, nor take them at the worst, but rather note the thing in deed as it lieth. For first ye must think, how Christians in this point do fully agree with the opinion of Plato's Sectatours, how the soul of man being drowned and entangled in the fleshly bands of the body, can not as being dusked with the grossness of the same, behold and take fruition of the fight of very things as they are in deed. Whereupon Plato defineth Philosophy to be a meditation or remembrance of death, in as much as it plucketh and retireth the mind of man from visible and corporal things, to those that are invisible and ghostly. Which effect is in death also. Therefore so long as the soul within man doth rightly and in due wise peruse the Organs of the body, so long is that man called sound, and of good discretion: but when some of those bands or conduits being once perished, she doth busily labour to recover her freedom, minding a certain flight (as it were) and breaking lose from that her fleshly prison the body, by which struggling the whole frame of the sensis, and inward powers is disioygned, you do hold him for mad and out of his right mind: which passion if it come perhaps through infyrmitee, or faultiness of any of those Organs, than do all men precisely agree, 
divinity 〈◊〉 ravers.  that it is plain Madness: How be it we see that even this kind of ravers do sometime also prophecy of things coming, and suddenly become knowers of tongues, and arts, which erst they never learned, showing to have in them I wot never what espece of new inspiration and divinity: which undoubtedly chanceth, because the soul being somewhat enlarged, and made freer from the body's yoke and contagiousness beginneth a little to exercise and weld herself according to the property of her own nature. And upon like occasion many folk labouring in the extreme pangꝭ of death, are much subject (as I take it) to somewhat like hereto, as often as if they were ravished in a trance, they do speak of certain wondrous things pertaining to an other world. But and if the said wandering of the wittis do befall a man for that he is right passingly moved a●d stirred up with the love of heavenly things, I doubt now whether it may be called the self same kind of madness, yet sure it is so near sib thereto, as many men now a days will doubt never a whit to repute that his fervent affection towardis god, for a very dotage of the mind. Namely seeing a small numbered of such silly good souls as are deteigned therewith, do in all their deeds, and living repine, and disagree from the whole band of other mortal men. Wherefore (I suppose) they are served, as Plato feigneth, that one of those prisoners was, that sat bounden in a dark den under ground (as before I recited unto you) whereas nought was seen else, saving shadows and representations of things. That where by chance the said prisoner escaped out of the den, and so coming abroad into this world, saw very things as they were in deed, returning of good will to his fellows, to advertise them of the error they were in, he was no whit believed of them, but rather laughed to scorn: For whereas he like a man of wisdom and experience seemed to pity their madness and great blindness in mistaking so of things, they on the otherside did pot at him, and thrust him out of their company, for a frantic fool. So fareth it by the vulgar sort of men, who commonly have those things in greatest price and admiration, 
The difference between worldly & goldly men.  that are most sensual and bodily, as which they take to be only, and none other: whereas god folks on the other part, what ever draweth nearest to the bodily use, do the sooner therefore despise and set light by it, forsomuch as they are holy ravished and given to the contemplation of invisible things. For as worldlyngꝭ have richesses in best reputation, next thereto esteeming the weal of their bodies, and lest regarding the profit of their souls, in case they regard it at all, for some of them believe there is no soul, because they can not see it at the eye: So again devout persons put their whole confidence in god, being the simplest and most pure thing of all others, and secondly do cheerish that, that draweth nearest to him, I mean the spirit, bestowing no cost nor tendance on their bodies, nor on pleasures belonging to the same. But money of all things they neglect, and set no store by, no more than ye would do by things superfluous, or rather noisome. That and if (may chance) at any time they be enforced to go about worldly affairs, I can tell you yet, that they do it evil willingly, and with a spiced stomach. So that (Paul saith) they have goods, as not having goods: and possess them, as not possessing them, by reason they vary so much from the universal and vulgar sort of men. For although the Senses have all a certain parentage a●d kynneship with the body, yet be there of the same, some grosser in substance, as are feeling, hearing, seeing, smelling, and tasting: some again more severed and removed from the body, as is memory, understanding, and free-will. Now seeing that the soul of man hath therein most strength and vigour, whereunto she most applieth herself, therefore it cometh to pass, that holy men, the force of whose spirits is wholly bend upon things contemplative, which are most distant and aliened from the grosser senses, do fare in the rest, as if they were benumbed, or brute of judgement, as dumb beastis are. Whereas contrary the souls of vulgar people are most ●●fe and pregnant in those gross rude senses of the body, being as blunt and dull yet, in the other five powers of the wit. And hereupon (I think) it cometh, 
Saint Bernard drank oil in stead of wine.  that some devout persons (as it is written of them) did without apperceiving the difference, drink lamp oil in steed of wine. So likewise as concerning the affections of the mind, some of them be of faster league and alliance to the body, as are fleshly lust, appetite to food or sleep, ire, pride, and envy, with such other disordinate mocio●s, wherewith holy men are ever at unpeasible war, but the vulgars not only do not eschew, but rather embrace them, 
diversity of affections.  as supposing they can not live without them. Than again, some other affections are entredeux and indifferent to both parts, which we may name Natural, as the reverence a man beareth towards father and mother, the chariness he hath over his children, the love he oweth to his kinnesfolkes and friends, with such like. Which said Middle affections are had also in some degree and price amongs comen people, though not so much as the other. But holy men will struggle to raze them also out of their hertis, saving as farfoorth as they be ghostly, and make rather towards the hieghest part of man, which is the Spirit, than any other fleshly appetites: by which conveyance they may love their parentis not as their parentis, (for what else begat they saving their bodies? yet even that also aught to be referred to god the maker of all things) but love them rather as good folks, in whom the image of the spirit of god resplendissheth. Which said ressemblance they call very felicity, as the greatest good that may he had, yea such (they say) as only, and none other, should be beloved, required, and wished after. And so by this said rule, do they measure likewise all the other parts and duties of this life: whereby it cometh to pass, that what ever thing is seen here presently at the eye, if so be they do not fully contemn the same, yet sure they set much less thereby, than by other things, which may not outwardly be seen. Yea they say also, that even in the church sacraments, and works of charity there may be tried out both a ghostlinesse and a bodilinesse: As for example, In fasting they hold it not sufficient for a man to abstain from eating of flesh, which vulgar folk suppose to be the entire and perfect fast, unless that he rebate somewhat also from his affections, in giving less rains than before to his anger, or in cutting his prides combeshorter, or in lightning himself of his bodily peise, to the end his spirit may the nemblier climb up to the gripe and fruition of heavenly things. Likewise in housel, and receiving of the sacrament, albeit (say they) the ceremonies and circumstances used about the same, ought not to be neglected, yet must we take them of themself alone to be little available, or rather hartfull, unless the other part, which is spiritual, be added also thereunto: that is to say, the thing itself, which by those outward signs is represented. For represented is the death of Christ thereby, which death all Christian men are bound to follow and express, both in daunting, fordooing, and burying of all bodily affections, to the end they may rise again, being restored to a new life, as united thereby unto Christ, and made all one amongs themselves. These mysteries are by godly and spiritual meaners scanned in this sort: but lewd folk commonly do take the M●sse sacrifice to be of none other effect, than as it were a certain church service, wherein they fully did their duties, as long as they be present at it, standing as near the altar as they may, to here the woordis of the priest, or chanting of the choir, with other like ceremonies and obseruauncꝭ used about the same. Now, not only in these two points, which for exemples sake I have set to fore you, but generally throughout all their living, holy men will fly from those things, that savour of the body, as being rapt and drawn up to the other, that are ghostly and invisible. insomuch therefore as there is such diversity and dissension in all points between these two trades of men, it cometh to pass, that each of them do take other for mad and distraught, 
Mark how Folly dallieth in her words which are to be construed to ● good sense or else to be but as a talk of Folly.  notwithstanding (in my conceit) that name may rightlier be applied unto holy men, than vulgar people: which ye shall plainlier perceive why, as soon as I have briefly (according to my promise) declared unto you, how the final meed and gwerdone, that Christian men do look after, is nought else than a certain sweet raving, and simple alienation of the mind: wherein eftsoons I require you, not to be over scrupulous graters at the bare woordis without taking the sense withal. first therefore ye must think, that Plato did even than dream of such a thing, when he wrote, that the passion and extreme rage of fervent lovers was to be desired and embraced, as a thing above all others most blissful: because that a vehement lover liveth not now in himself, but rather in that that he loveth, so that the further & further a lovers heart is distraught from himself, to dwell with the beloved, the more and more he rejoiceth. And when the mind seeketh to wander from the body, nor occupieth the powers of the same in the due use, who will call this otherwise than plain madness? For else why do you use commonly this phrase of speech? he is out of himself, and return man to thyself, and he is come again to himself. It followeth therefore, how much more perfect, and the depelier such love is impressed, that so much the greater, and the blisfuller is the rage also. Which so being that soulis yet pinned within these bodily foldꝭ may smack a little of such a felicity, consider ye than what a life the sainctis souls lead in heaven? whereunto the minds of godly persons do with such fervency aspire? Seeing there the spirit as vanquissher, and far more puissant, shall wholly draw up, and convert the body into her own nature: Which she may do the easilier, 
Transformation of the body in 〈◊〉 the spirit  seeing even in this life here, she had cleansed and purified the same through fastings and other devout meditations, to be the metre and more apt to receive such a ghostly transformation. And than again, the spirit self shallbe marvelously ravished and soaked up by the far more strong and attractive power of the hieghest spirit of all, which is God. So that now those holy men shallbe altogether transformed and alterated, by none other means yet to so hiegh a degree in felicity, saving only because they as wholly being issued out of themselves, shall enjoy and be participant of that unspeakable heavenly sweetness, proceeding from a pure and tied perfect pleasure, through the might of god, the greatest good of all, that ravissheth and attyreth all things to itself. Now albeit this said felicity is than most amply and absolutely enjoyed, when the souls at the resurrection day being restored to their own bodies, 
The life of good Christians a meditation of the life 〈◊〉 come.  shall joinctly receive immortality: yet inasmuche as the life of good Christians is nought else than a continual meditation or certain shadow as it were of that life to come, it chanceth, that they yet living, have for their comfort permission at sometimes to discern a taste or savour of that hieghest reward behight unto them: Which said smack or scent, be it but a little drop in respect of that large flowing well of eternal felicity, yet surely it surpasseth, and incomparably exceedeth all other bodily pleasures, yea although all the delices of all men were wholly joined and put in one. So much (lo) are spiritual things to be preferred before fleshly things, and the invisible before the other visible. For this undoubtedly is even the very gwerdone that the Prophet promiseth, saying, was never man's eye saw, nor ear heard, not thought of heart yet compassed, what, and how great felicity god hath prepared unto such as do love him. And this is Mary magdalen's portion, which by change of life shall not be plucked away, but rather be more perfitly confirmed. Who so ever therefore have such grace (which sure is given to few) by their life time to taste of this said felicity, they are subject to a certain passion much like unto madness or witraving, when ravished so in the spirit, or being in a trance, they do speak certain things not hanging one with an other, nor after any earthly fashion, but rather do put forth a voice they wot never what, much less to be understood of others: and suddenly without any apparent cause why, do change the state of their countenances. For now shall ye see them of glad cheer, now of as sad again, now they weep, now they laugh, now they sigh, for brief, it is certain that they are wholly distraught and rapt out of themselves. In sort that when a little after they come again to their former wits, 
Godly men in a kind of trance.  they deny plainly they wot where they became, or whether they were than in their bodies, or out of their bodies, waking or sleeping: remembering also as little, either what they heard, saw, said, or did than, saving as it were through a cloud, or by a dream: but this they know certainly, that whiles their minds so roved and wandered, they were most happy and blissful, so that they lament and weep at their return unto their former senses, as who saith, nothing were leefer unto them than continually to rave a●d be deteigned with such a spece of madness. And this is but a certain smack or thin taste of their bliss to come. But once more forgetting myself, I pass my bounds. Howbeit if aught shall seem unto you to have been said of me more knappisshely than became me, or with more words than needed, think I pray you, that I was the speaker, being both Folly, and a woman. Yet for all that remember the Greek proverb, that oftentimes a fool may speak to purpose, unless perchance ye think that this maketh no whit for women. I perceive ye look for an epilog or knot of my tale, but than sure ye are very fools, if ye ween that I yet remember what I have spoken, after such a rabblement of words powered forth. The old proverb saith, I hate a talebearer from the board: But I say, I hate him that remembreth what he hath said. Far ye well therefore, clap your handis in token of gladness, live careless, and drink all out, ye the trusty servants & solemn ministers of Folly.  
FINIS.   

IMPRINTED AT LONDON IN FLEETSTREET IN THE HOUSE OF THOMAS BERTHELET.  
Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.