He is a fole that dothe coueyt and desyre
To haue the name of wysdome and prudence
And yet of one sought thorugh a cyte or a shyre
None coude be founde of lesse wysdome nor science
But whyle he thynketh hym full of sapience
Crafty and wyse, doutles he is more blynde
Than is that fole whiche is out of his mynde
But though he be wyse, and of myght meruaylous
Endued with retoryke and with eloquence
And of hym selfe both ware and cautelous