Of impacient Folys that wyll nat abyde correccion.
Unto our Folys shyp let hym come hastely
Whiche in his Bagpype hath more game and sport
Than in a Harpe or Lute more swete of melody
I fynde vnnumerable Folys of this sort
Whiche in theyr Bable haue all they hole confort
For it is oft sayd of men both yonge and olde
A fole wyll nat gyue his Babyll for any golde
The grettest synners that man may se or fynde
In myserable Folys theyr foly to expres
Is whan they wyll by no mean gyue theyr mynde
To frendly wordes, to grace or to goodnes
Suche folys so set theyr mynde on frowardnes
That though one gyue them counsell sad and wyse
They it disdayne and vtterly despyse
But he that is discrete sad and prudent
Aplyeth his mynde right gladly to doctryne
He hereth wyse men, his wysdome to augment
He them doth folowe and to theyr wordes enclyne
But that fole whiche ay goeth to ruyne.
And mortall myschefe had leuer be dede or slayne
Than byde correccyon or for his profyte payne
Suche haue suche pleasour in theyr mad folysshe pype
That they dispyse all other melody.
They leuer wolde dye folys than: byde a strype
For theyr correccyon and specyall remedy
And without dout none other Armony
To suche folys is halfe so delectable
As is their folysshe bagpype and theyr babyll
These frantyke folys wyll byde no punysshement
Nor smale correccion, for theyr synne and offence
No frendly warnynge can chaunge theyr yll intent
For to abyde it, they haue no pacyence.
They here no wysdome but fle from hir presence
And so it hapnyth that in the worlde be
Mo folys than men of wyt and grauyte
O mortall fole remember well what thou art
Thou art a man of erth made and of clay
Thy dayes ar short and nede thou must depart
Out of this lyfe, that canst thou nat denay
Yet hast thou reason and wyt wherby thou may
Thy selfe here gyde by wysdome ferme and stable
Wherby thou passest all bestis vnreasonable
Thou art made lorde of euery creature
All thynge erthly vnto thyne obedyence
God hath the creat vnto his owne fygure
Lo is nat here a great preemynence
God hath also gyuyn vnto the intellygence
And reason and wyt all foly to refuse.
Than art thou a fole that reason to abuse
He that is fre outher in subieccion.
If by his foly he fall into offence
And than submyt hym vnto correccyon.
All men shall laude his great obedyence
But if that one by pryde and insolence
Supporte his faute and so bere out his vyce
The hell tourmentis hym after shall chastyce
Correccyon shall the vnto wysdome brynge
Whiche is more precious than all erthly ryches
Than londes rentis or any other thynge
Why dost thou bost the of byrth or noblenes
Of ryches, strength beauty or fayrnes
These often ar cause of inconuenyence.
Where as all good comyth by wysdome and prudence
A wyse man onely as we often fynde
Is to be named moste ryche and of most myght
Here thou his wordes and plant them in thy mynde
And folowe the same for they ar sure and right.
Better is to endure, thoughe it be nat lyght
To suffer a wyse man the sharply to repreue
Than a flaterynge fole to clawe the by the sleue
Thoughe sharpe correccyon at the first the greue
Thou shalt the ende therof fynde profytable
It oft apereth, therfore I it byleue
That man also forsoth is fortunable
Whiche here in fere lyueth sure and stable
And in this lyfe is clene of his intent
Ferynge the sharpe payne of hellys punysshement
He may hym selfe right happy call also
Whiche is correct in his first tender age
And so lernyth in goodes law to go
And in his yocke, whiche doth all yll asswage
But these folys bydynge in theyr outrage
Whiche of correccyon in this lyfe hath dysdayne
May fere to be correct in hell with endles payne
The enuoy of Barklay to the Folys.
Ye obstynate folys that often fall in vyce
Howe longe shall ye kepe this frowarde ignoraunce
Submyt your myndes, and so from synne aryse
Let mekenes slake your mad mysgouernaunce
Remember that worldly payne it greuaunce
To be compared to hell whiche hath no pere
There is styll payne, this is a short penaunce
Wherfore correct thy selfe whyle thou art here.