“Poesy hath praise”: an ancient saying; But weighing it, its mettle is but base: Put case, a poet true art essaying The braying of the unlettered race Will chase him straightway forth from place, Nor grace nor gear shall him repay. But they some bold Tom Piper will agrace Alway. Wherefore none may gainsay: Through folly falls poesy to decay. Fy ye blind and clumsy wits, Poesy ye should strive to understand, and Love it rightly, as befits. Let it in honor on every hand stand; By poesy only is a land grand. Praise to them who own its sway! Fy on the foolish who would have it out of hand bann’d! Wherefore yet once more I say: Through folly falls poesy to decay. Prince, to poesy I will set my mind And to its doctrine be faithfully inclined, For it may be come at none other way. But to the crafty seemeth it ever unkind That the foolish be to poesy blind. To hear this goodly ballat great press of folk gathered and Moonen beholding this did after his hellish kind and stirred among them such strife that one among the folk was stabbed to death. And he who did this had his head smote off. Thus Emma and Moonen lived at Antwerp at the sign of the “Golden Tree” in the market, where daily of his contriving were many murders and slayings together with every sort of wickedness. In the which he greatly rejoiced, saying with himself thus: What prodigy can I do? Hell, I hope, will lend its aid thereto, And get of it fair gain. If but a little longer I may here reign, Hell-mouth will be filled till it split. ’Twere a pity this good inn to quit, For all who live in riot and wantonness And win a profit of very idleness, Gamblers, fighters, daughters of the game, Bawds and all they who use the same, Of these there be here a goodly retinue, And ’tis of them my profit doth accrue. Wherefore in this house as for this time I will lie. Now will I go ask of mine host in hie At what cost we twain lodge here. If I do stay, I will have good cheer And all things wholly to my pay. Betide what betide I will as I may Keep mischief stirring here and there. Within a year I would see a hundred stabbed, I swear, So that Lucifer shall not lack company in Hell. As a doctor of physic I will disguise me well. Good Doctor Gallipot shall not want for renown. I shall know where to find hidden treasure in every town. This will spread my fame over all. And whatsoever among folk may befall It will be known to me just as it was. More than a thousand shall run after me ere there pass A month, my practice will be so sly. So I will get treasure with the which none can vie. My love Emma will eke love me the bet. An if the Highest doth me no let, Ere a year more than a thousand souls I shall have won; If He otherwise wills, then my baking is done.