Of folys without prouysyon.
He is a fole forsoth and worse
That to his saddyll wolde lepe on hye
Before or he haue gyrt his horse
For downe he comys with an euyll thee
But as great a fole forsoth is he
And to be lawghed to derysyon.
That ought begynneth without prouysyon
Of other folys yet is a moche nomber
Whom I wolde gladly brynge to intellygence
To auoyde their blyndnes which sore doth incomber
Theyr mynde and herte for lackynge of science
Suche ar vnware and gyuen to neglygence
Mad and mysmyndyd pryuate of wysdome
Makynge no prouysyon for the tyme to come.
If any mysfortune aduersyte or wo
As often hapnyth, to suche a fole doth fall
Than sayth he I thought it wolde nat haue be so
But than ouer late is it agayne to call
It is nat ynough thou fole to say I shall
For this one daye prouyde me by wysdome
A wyse man seyth peryll longe before it come
He is vnwyse and of prouysyon pore
That nought can se before he haue damage
Whan the stede is stolyn to shyt the stable dore
Comys small pleasoure profyte or vauntage
But he that can suche folysshenes asswage
Begynnynge by counsayll, and fore prouydence
Is sure to escape all inconuenyence
Whan Adam tastyd the appyll in Paradyse.
To hym prohybyte by dyuyne commaundement
If he had noted the ende of his interpryse
To Eue he wolde nat haue ben obedyent
Thus he endured right bytter punysshement
For his blynde erroure and improuydence
That all his lynage rue sore for his offence.
Hymselfe dryuyn out from Paradyce all bare
With Eue, into this vale of wretchydnes
To get theyr lyuynge with laboure payne and care
And also if Jonathas by errour and blyndnes
Had nat receyued the gyftis of falsnes
Unto hym gyuen of Tryphon by abusyon
He sholde haue escapyd great confusyon
If that he before had notyd craftely
His ennemyes gyftis of frawde full and of treason
He myght haue sauyd hymselfe from ieoperdy
And all his people by prouydence and reason
Where as he blynde was as at that season
And to a cyte broughte in by a trayne
Where he was murdred and all his people slayne
Julius Cesar the chefe of conquerours
Was euer warre and prudent of counsayle
But whan he had obteyned great honours
And drewe to rest as wery of Batayle
Than his vnwarnes causyd hym to wayle
For if he had red with good aduysement
The letter whiche to the counselhous was sent
He had nat gyuen his owne iugement
As he dyd by his foly and neglygence
For whiche he murdred was incontynent
Without respect had vnto his excellence
Alas se here what inconuenyence
Came to this Emperour hye and excellent
For nat beyng wyse dyscrete and prouydent
If Nichanor before had noted well
The ende of his dedes he had nat be slayne
By Judas and the children of Israell
His hande and tunge cut of to his great payne
And than his hede, as the bybyll sheweth playne
Thus may all knowe that wyll therto entende
Wherto they come that caryth nat the ende
But he that begynneth by counsayll and wysdome
Alway procedynge with good prouysyon
Notynge what is past and what is for to come
Suche folowys godly scripture and monycion
In happy wayes without transgressyon
Of goddes lawes, and his commaundement
And often tymes comys to his intent.
Thus it appereth playne and euydent
That wyse prouysyon, prose and good counsayle
Are moche laudable, and also excellent
And to mankynde great profyte and auayle.
Where as those folys haue often cause to wayle
For theyr mysfortune, in sorowe vexed sore
Whiche ought begyn nat prouydyd before
The Enuoy of Alexander Barclay.
O man remember thou canste nat abyde
Styll in this lyfe therfore moste specially
For thy last ende thou oughtest to prouyde.
For that prouysion forsoth is most godly
And than next after thy mynde thou ought aply
To fle offence, and bewayle thyne olde synne
And in all workes and besynes worldly
What may be the ende marke well or thou begynne