Yet be they foolishe, auoyde of honestie,
Nothing seasoned with spice of grauitie,
Auoyde of pleasure, auoyde of eloquence,
With many wordes, and fruitlesse of sentence;
Unapt to learne, disdayning to be taught,
Their priuate pleasure in snare hath them so caught;
And worst yet of all, they count them excellent,
Though they be fruitlesse, rashe and improuident.
To such ambages who doth their minde incline,
They count all other as priuate of doctrine,