The Ship of Fools, Volume 1

by Sebastian Brant

Of folys that stande so well in their owne conceyt that they thinke none so wyse, stronge, fayre, nor eloquent, as they ar themself.

We haue ouercome the malyce and enuy
Of suche as agaynst our Nauy did conspyre
Wherfore I shall my folys call quyckly
That they my Shyp may aparayle and atyre
Drawe nere ye Folys whiche syttynge by the fyre
Loke ay in a glasse to se your countenaunce
And in your owne dedis haue all your hole pleasaunce

Vnto my shyp I call hym to be Coke

The mete to dresse to other Folys echone

Whiche in his myrrour doth alway gase and loke

Whan he may get hym vnto a place alone

And though of colour and beaute he haue none

Yet thynketh he hym self fayre and right plesant

And wyse: thoughe that he be mad and ignorant

In his owne dedys is onely his delyte

In his owne conceyte thynkynge hymself right wyse

And fayre, thoughe he be yelowe as kyte

Is of hir fete: yet doth he styll deuyse

His vayne myrrour: that onely is his gyse

And thoughe he beholde hym self of lothly shape

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

Though for his foly all men myght hym repreue

And that he se it before hym openly

Within his glasse: he wyll it nat byleue

But strongly it defende and eke deny

He seyth nat his erys longe and hye

Whiche stande vpon his folysshe hode behynde

His lewde conceyt thus makyth hym starke blynde

Whan people comon of men of hye prudence

Or of hye beauty, and strength if men doth tell

If one suche fole were there in the presence

He swere durst boldly and that on the gospell

That he onely all other dyd excell

And that to gyue councell good and profytable

Were none in the worldly vnto hym comparable

These folys bost them selfe of theyr wysdome

And thynke them selfe to haue preemynence

Aboue all other that ar in christendome.

In gyftis of grace as beautye and scyence

Of strength, gode maners, vertue, and eloquence

But thoughe they stande in theyr owne conceytis

Nought is saue foly within theyr folysshe patis

And thoughe theyr face and vysage stande awry

And all to reuylde, theyr mouth standynge asyde

Within theyr myrrour the same can they nat spye

But in theyr foly contynually abyde

And whether that they ar styll outher go or ryde

Labour or be ydyll, they gase styll in theyr glasse

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

Oft whan these folys lye in theyr bed vpright

With tawny loke or els theyr botyll nose

They haue theyr myrrour alway in theyr syght

The vayne glasse (of theyr beautye) to apose

And whan suche a fole into the kechyn gose

To stere the pot, there whether he syt or stande

The glasse alway is in the other hande

Whan he a whyle his glas hath loken than

If one examynyd hym of his beautye

He boldly durst swere both by god and man

That nought were in hym whiche myght repreuyd be

But all goodnes, fayre shape, and loke of grauyte

And that his gere gayly vpon his backe doth syt

He hardly is wyse: if he had any wyt.

I wryten fynde that great inconuenyence

As losse, contempt and occasyon of pryde

Hath fallyn vnto many by this lewde complacence

Whiche haue nat knowen the way themself to gyde

The emperour Otho had ay borne by his syde

In warre and peas (a glasse) for his pleasaunce

To se his colour therin; and countenaunce

And to the entent to make his colour gay

With Assys mylke he noyntyd oft his skyn

And shauyd his berde onys euery day

But for that he offendyd god herein

After was he sharply punysshyd for this syn

And put vnto extreme rebuke and shame

To gyue other example to auoyde the same

It is forsoth a maner femynyne

And nat for man to be so elegant

To suche toyes wanton wymen may inclyne

A yonge mayde may at her forhede haue pendant

The vayne myrrour to se hir shape pleasant

Man sholde nought set by to norysshe his beautye

But onely manhode strength and audacyte

The wanton mayde may for hir self ordayne

Hir call hir coyfe, and suche conceytis newe

As broches fyletes and oyntmentis souerayne

And clothynge of dyuers colour and of hewe

But nowe yonge men the same fourme do ensue

And to content theyr mad and folysshe mynde

To wymen they compare themselfe agaynst kynde

Disorder rayneth as I before haue sayde

The yonge men takyth womans countenaunce

And hir aparayll, and wymen ar arayde

As men: agaynst all lawe and ordynaunce

Thus man and woman ensue mysgouernaunce

In theyr behauour is small dyuersyte

Theyr owne conceyt causeth great enormyte

The poet Ouyde shewyth in a fable

Howe that one callyd Pygmalyon by name

A fygure made vnto hymselfe semblable

Whiche he in marbyll right craftely dyd frame

And in so moche he worshypped the same

Tyll at the last his mynde was past and gone

And he transformed so was in to that stone

And if the Poetis fables be all sure

As by theyr subtyle wordes oft we here

The childe Narcissus was chaungyd of fygure

Whyle he behelde into the water clere

For whyle his shadowe vnto hym dyd apere

Vpon the same so sore he set his mynde

That he transformyd was to another kynde.

But to retorne agayne to our purpose

And of this sort of Folys to conclude

If god sholde them to other shape transpose

That thynke them fayre though they be foule and rude

Into foule fassyon he many sholde include

For whyle Folys theyr owne beauty magnyfy

So growyth the nomber and so they multyply

Thenuoy of Barklay the translatour.

Blynde man inclere thy wylfull ignoraunce

Stande nat so great in thy owne conceyte

Ne in thy lewde fassyon set nat thy pleasaunce

Whether thou be pore or man of great estate

Another man moche more shall in the wayte

Of gode and yll than thou thy self canst do

Therfore be nat cause to thy self of disceyte

If one the teche: aply thy mynde therto

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Of lepynges and dauncis and Folys that pas theyr tyme in suche vanyte.

That fole that settyth his felycyte
In wanton daunces and lepes immoderate
Hath in my Shyp a rowme for his degre
Bysyde the stere for troublynge of his pate
He god dyspleasyth, whiche doth suche foly hate
Suche lese theyr tyme in vayne and oft therin
Ar many hurtis: and cause of dedely syn.

Those folys a place may chalenge in my shyp

Whiche voyde of wysdome as men out of theyr mynde

Them selfe delyte to daunce to lepe and skyp

In compase rennynge lyke to the worlde wyde

In vnkynde labour, suche folys pleasour fynde

Rennynge about in this theyr furyous vyce

Lyke as it were in Bacchus sacryfyce

Or as the Druydans rennyth in vayne about

In theyr mad festes vpon the hylle of yde

Makynge theyr sacrafyce with furour noyse and shout

Whan theyr madnes settyth theyr wyt asyde

Or whan the prestis of mars all nyght abyde

Within theyr temple by vse abhomynable

To theyr ydollys doynge theyr seruyce detestable

Lyke as these paynyms hath to theyr ydols done

Theyr sacryfyce wandrynge in theyr madnes

Theyr bodyes weryenge, in vayne wastynge their shone

So do these fowlys them selfe to daunsynge dres

Sekynge occason of great vnhappynes

They take suche labour without all hope of gayne

Without rewarde sure, of werynes and payne

Say Folys that vse this fury and outrage

What causyth you to haue delyte therin

For your great labour say what is your wage

Forsoth ye can therby no profyte wyn

But seke occasyon (as I haue sayde) of syn

And for thy werynge thy fete thus in the dust

Thou gettest no gayne but cause of carnall lust

But whan I consyder of this folysshe game

The firste begynnynge and cause orygynall

I say the cause therof is worthy blame

For whan the deuyll to disceyue man mortall

And do contempt to the hye god eternall

Vpon a stage had set a Calfe of golde.

That euery man the same myght clere beholde

So than the Fende grounde of mysgouernaunce

Causyd the people this fygure to honour

As for theyr god and before the same to daunce.

Whan they were dronkon, thus fell they in errour

Of Idolatry, and forgate theyr creatour.

Before this ydoll daunsynge both wyfe and man

Dispysynge god: Thus daunsynge fyrst began

Suche blynde folyes and inconuenyence

Engendryth great hurte and incommodyte

And sawyth sede wherof groweth great offence

The grounde of vyce and of all enormyte

In it is pryde, fowle lust and lecherye

And whyle lewde lepys ar vysd in the daunce

Oft frowarde bargayns ar made by countenaunce

What els is daunsynge but euen a nurcery

Or els a bayte to purchase and meyntayne

In yonge hertis the vyle synne of rybawdry

Them fe*trynge therin, as in a dedely chayne

And to say trouth in wordes clere and playne

Venereous people haue all theyr hole pleasaunce

Theyr vyce to norysshe by this vnthryfty daunce

And wanton people disposyd vnto syn

To satysfye theyr mad concupyscence

With hasty cours vnto this daunsynge ryn

To seke occasyon of vyle synne and offence

And to expresse my mynde in short sentence

This vyciouse game oft tymes doth attyse

By his lewde synes, chast hartis vnto vyce

Than it in erth no game is more damnable

It semyth no peas, but Batayle openly

They that it vse of myndes seme vnstable

As mad folke rennynge with clamour showt and cry

What place is voyde of this furyous foly

None: so that I dout within a whyle

These folys the holy churche shall defyle

Of people what sort or order may we fynde

Ryche or pore hye or lowe of name

But by theyr folysshnes, and wanton mynde

Of eche sort some ar gyuen vnto the same

The prestis and clerkes to daunce haue no shame

The frere or monke in his frocke and cowle

Must daunce in his dortor lepynge to play the fole

To it comys children, maydes and wyues.

And flaterynge yonge men to se to haue theyr pray

The hande in hande great falshode oft contryues

The olde quean also this madnes wyll assay

And the olde dotarde thoughe he skantly may

For age and lamenes stere outher fote or hande

Yet playeth he the fole with other in the bande

Than lepe they about as folke past theyr mynde

With madnes amasyd rennynge in compace

He moste is commendyd that can moste lewdnes fynde

Or can most quyckly ren about the place

There ar all maners vsyd that lacke grace

Mouynge theyr bodyes in synes full of shame

Whiche doth theyr hertes to synne right sore inflame

So oft this vyce doth many one abuse

That whan they ar departyd from the daunce

On lust and synne contynually they muse

Hauynge therin theyr wyll and theyr pleasaunce

Than fall they oft to great mysgouernaunce

As folys gyuyn to worke vnprofytable

So in my shyp they well deserue a babyll.

Thenuoy of Barklay

Do way your daunces ye people moche vnwyse

Desyst your folysshe pleasour of trauayle

It is me thynke an vnwyse vse and gyse

To take suche labour and payne without auayle

And who that suspectyth his mayde or wyues tayle

Let hym nat suffer them in the daunce to be

For in that game thoughe sys or synke them fayle

The dyse oft renneth vpon the chaunce of thre

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