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