The Ship of Fools, Volume 1-2 by Sebastian Brant (novels in english TXT) 📕

hope do synne vnhappely

Remember the synne of our forefaders done

Haue neuer ben left vnpunysshed fynally

And that somtyme, full sharpe and bytterly

For euer more all synne hath had a fall

With sorowe here, or els wo infernall

 

The synne of Sodom foule and nat natural

The Pryde of rome, whiche was so excellent

The offence of Dauyd Prophete and kynge royal

The furour of Pharao fyers and violent

Haue nat escaped the rightwyse punysshment

Of God aboue, the celestial and highe Justice

Which fyrst, or last punyssheth euery vyce.

 

Remember Richarde lately kynge of price

In Englonde raynynge vnrightwisely a whyle.

Howe he ambycion, and gyleful Couetyse

With innocent blode his handes dyd defyle

But howbeit that fortune on hym dyd smyle

Two yere or thre: yet god sende hym punysshment

By his true seruant the rede Rose redolent.

 

Therfore remember that god omnypotent

Oft suffreth synners in theyr iniquyte

Grauntynge them space and tyme of amendement

And nat to procede in their enormyte

But those synners that byde in one degre

And in this lyfe their synne wyll nat refrayne

God after punyssheth with infernall payne

 

As I haue sayde (therfore) I say agayne

Though god be of infynyte pety and mercy

His fauour and grace passynge all synne mundayne

Yet iustice is with hym eternally.

Wherfore I aduyse the to note intentifly

Though pyte wolde spare, iustyce wyll nat so

But the here rewarde, els with infernal we.

 

ALEXANDER BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

 

Syghe synners, syghe, for your mysgouernance.

Lament, mourne, and sorowe for your enormyte.

Away with these Clowdes of mysty ignorance

Syn nat in hope of goddys hyghe petye

And remember howe ye daily punysshed be

With dyuers dyseases both vncouthe and cruel

And all for your synne, but suche as escapeth fre

And styl lyue in syn, may fere the peynes of helle

 

*

 

Of the folisshe begynnynge of great

bildynges without sufficient prouision.

 

[Illustration: Come nere folys and rede your ignorance

And great losse procedynge of your owne foly

Whiche without gode and discrete purueaunce

Any great werke wyll bylde or edefye.

All suche ar folys what man wyll it deny

For he that wyll bylde before he count his cost

Shall seldome well ende, so that is made is lost.]

 

Who euer begynneth any worke or dede

Of byldynge or of other thynge chargeable

And to his costes before taketh no hede

Nor tyme nat countyth to his worke agreable

Suche is a fole and well worthy a babyll

For he that is wyse wyll no thynge assay

Without he knowe howe he well ende it may.

 

The wyse man counteth his cost before alway

Or he begyn, and nought wyll take in honde

Wherto his myght or power myght denay

His costes confourmynge to the stynt of his londe

Where as the fole that nought doth vnderstonde

Begynneth a byldynge without aduysement

But or halfe be done his money clene is spent.

 

Many haue begon with purpose dilygent

To bylde great houses and pleasaunt mansyons

Them thynkynge to finysshe after theyr intent

But nede disceyuyd hath theyr opynyons

Their purpose nat worth a cowpyll of onyons

But whan they se that they it ende nat can

They curse the tyme that euer they it began

 

Of Nabugodosor that worthy man.

What shall I wryte or the story to the tell

Syth that the Bybyll to the expresse it can

In the fourth chapter of the prophete Danyell

Was he nat punysshed in paynes cruell

For his great pryde and his presumpcion

Whiche he toke it in the byldynge of Babylon

 

His golde and treasoure he spendyd hole theron

Enioynge hym in his Cyte excellent

Right so Nemroth by his inuencion

The towre of Babylon began for this intent

To saue hym, if the worlde agayne were drent

But the hye god consyderynge his blynde rage

His purpose let by confusyon of langage

 

His towre vnperfyte to his losse and domage

His people punysshed, hymselfe specyally

Thus it apereth what great disauauntage

On theyr hede falleth that byldeth in foly

Thus he is folysshe that wolde edefy

Any great worke without ryches in excesse

For great byldynges requyreth great rychesse

 

But many folys ar in suche a blyndnesse

That hereon nought they set their mynde ne thought

Wherfore to them oft commyth great distresse

And to great pouerty often ar they brought

Laughed to scorne, their purpose cometh to nought

And truely I fynde in bokes wryten playne

That our olde faders haue neuer set theyr brayne

 

On great byldynge, ne yet of them ben fayne:

It longeth to a lorde a Prynce or a Kynge

That lacke no treasoure theyr werkes to mayntayne

To set theyr myndes on excellent buyldynge

Therfore who so euer wyll meddle with this thynge

Or any other, before let hym be wyse

That his myght and ryches therto may suffyse.

 

Lyst all men do mocke and scorne his interpryse

For if he ought begyn without prouysyon

And haue nat wherby his byldynge may up ryse

All that is lost that is made and begon

And better it is sothly in myn intencion

Nought to begyn, and spare laboure and payne

Than to begyn and than, leue of agayne

 

Who euer he be that so doth certayne

He shall haue mockis mengled with his damage

Therfore let suche folys sharpe theyr brayne

And better intende to theyr owne auauntage

Consyderynge that processe of tyme and age

Theyr curyous byldynges shall at the lest confounde

And Roufe and wallys make egall with the grounde.

 

BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS.

 

Ye folys blyndyd with curyosyte

Whiche on great byldynge set so sore your mynde

Remember ye nat that doutles ye shall dye

And your gay byldynges and howses leue behynde

Thynke ye your conforte alway in them to fynde

Or whan ye dye, them hens with you to haue

Nay nay the laste hous gyuen to mankynde

Is the course grounde and walles of his graue.

 

*

 

Of glotons and dronkardes.

 

[Illustration: That gloton or dronkarde, vyle in goddes sight

Shall hardly escape the weyght of pouertye.

Whiche drynketh and deuoureth both day and nyght

Therin onely settynge all his felycyte

His lothsome lust and his bestyalyte

Shall brynge vnto destruccion fynally

His soule, his godes and his wretchyd body.]

 

Within our nauy he nedes shall haue a place.

Whiche without mesure on lothsome glotony

Setteth his pleasure and singuler solace

His stomacke ouerchargynge, vyle and vngodely

And to none other thynge his mynde doth he aply

Saue depest to drynke, suche force nat of theyr soules

But labore in rynsynge pecis cuppis and bowles

 

The madnes of dronkennes is so immoderate

That greuous sores it ingendreth and sykenes

It causeth often great foly and debate

With soden deth and carefull heuynes

In thynges no difference putteth dronkennes.

It febleth the ioyntis and the body within

Wastynge the brayne makynge the wyt full thyn

 

It engendreth in the hede infirmyte

Blyndynge the herte wyt and discression

The mynde it demynyssheth, coloure and beaute.

Causynge all myschef, shame and abusyon

It maketh men mad, and in conclusyon

Causeth them lyue without lawe or measure

Suynge after syn defylynge theyr nature

 

The people that are acloyed with this synne.

On no thynge els theyr myndes wyll aply:

Saue to the wyne and ale stakes to renne

And there as bestes to stryue and drynke auy

Than ar they outher gyuyn to rybawdry

Or els to brawle and fight at euery worde

Thus dronkennes is the chefe cause of discorde

 

But namely dronkennes and wretchyd glotony

By their excesse and superfluyte

Engendreth the rote of cursed Lechery

With murder, thefte and great enormyte

So bryngeth it many to great aduersyte

And with his furour the worlde so doth it blynde

That many it bryngeth to a shamfull ende

 

This vyce (alas) good maners doth confounde

And maketh man ouer besy of langage

And hym that in all ryches doth abounde

It ofte in pryson bryngeth and in bondage

It causeth man to his great sorowe and domage

Disclose his secrete and his preuey counsayle

Whiche causeth hym after sore to mourne and wayle

 

Nought is more lothsome, more vycyous nor vyle

Than he that is subdued to this vyce

His lyfe shortynge his body he doth defyle

Bereuynge his soule the ioy of Paradyse

Howe many Cytees and lordes of great pryce

Hath ben destroyed by dronken glotony

And by his felawe, false loue, or lechery.

 

The sone of Thomyr had nat ben ouercome

Nor slayne by Cyrus for all his worthynes.

If he hym selfe had gydyd by wysdome

And the vyce auoydyd of blynde dronkennes

The great Alexander taken with this madnes

With his swerde, whan he was dronken slewe

Suche of his frendes as were to hym most trewe

 

I rede also howe this conquerour myghty

Upon a season played at the Chesse

With one of his knyghtes which wan ynally

Of hym great golde treasoure and rychesse

And hym ouercame, but in a furyousnes

And lade with wyne, this conquerour vp brayde

And to his knyght in wrath these wordes sayde

 

I haue subdued by strength and by wysdome

All the hole worlde, whiche obeyeth to me

And howe hast thou alone me thus ouercome

And anone commaundyd his knyght hanged to be

Than sayde the knyght by right and equyte

I may apele. syns ye ar thus cruell

Quod Alexander to whome wylt thou apell

 

Knowest thou any that is gretter than I

Thou shalt be hanged thou spekest treason playne

The knyght sayd sauynge your honour certaynly

I am no traytoure, apele I woll certayne

From dronken Alexander tyll he be sober agayne

His lorde than herynge his desyre sounde to reason

Differryd the iustyce as for that tyme and season

 

And than after whan this furour was gone

His knyght he pardoned repentynge his blyndenes.

And well consydered that he shulde haue mysdone

If he to deth had hym done in that madnesse

Thus it apereth what great unhappynes

And blyndnes cometh to many a creature

By wyne or ale taken without measure.

 

Se here the inconuenyence manyfolde

Comynge of dronkennes as I wrytyn fynde.

Some ar so starynge mad that none can them holde

Rorynge and cryeng as men out of their mynde

Some fyghtynge some chydynge, some to other kynde

Nought lyuynge to them selfe: and some dotynge Johnn

Beynge dronke thynketh hym as wyse as Salomon

 

Some sowe dronke, swaloynge mete without mesure

Some mawdelayne dronke, mournynge lowdly and hye

Some beynge dronke no lenger can endure

Without they gyue them to bawdy rybawdry

Some swereth armys nayles herte and body.

Terynge our lord worse, than the Jowes hym arayed

Some nought can speke, but harkenyth what is sayd.

 

Some spende all that they haue and more at wast

With reuell and reuell dasshe fyll the cup Joohnn

Some their thryft lesyth with dyce at one cast

Some slepe as slogardes tyll their thryft be gone

Some shewe theyr owne counsell for kepe can they none

Some are Ape dronke full of lawghter and of toyes

Some mery dronke syngynge with wynches and boyes

 

Some spue, some stacker some vtterly ar lame

Lyeng on the grounde without power to ryse

Some bost them of bawdry ferynge of no shame

Some dumme, and some speketh. ix. wordes at thryse

Some charge theyr bely with wyne in suche wyse

That theyr legges skant can bere vp the body

Here is a sort to drowne a hole nauy.

 

BARKLAYE TO THE FOLYS.

 

Alas mad folys howe longe wyll ye procede

In this beestly lyuynge agayst humayne nature

Cease of your