Wherfore I proue that a blynde fole thou art To iuge or deme a mannys thought or intent For onely god knoweth our mynde and hart Wherto we gree and to what thynge we assent But who that is rightwyse iust, and innocent And louyth god with honour and with reuerence Than, may he boldely iuge anothers offence ALEXANDER BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS. Amende you folys: do way these folysshe wayes Take ye no charge: nat mete for your degre. And note these wordes: whiche criste our sauyour sayes Juge nat another, and thou shalt nat iugyd be It longeth onely to the hye dyuynyte To iuge our mynde: for he is true iustyce All thynge discernynge by right and equyte No man sholde deme, whyle hym selfe is in vyce * * * * * Of pluralitees that is to say of them whiche charge them selfe with many benefycis. [Illustration: That myller is a fole and here shall haue a barge And as a mad man shall fast therin be bounde Whiche his Asse wyll with so many sackes charge That the pore beste for payne fallys to the grounde Many in the chirche lyke hym may be founde. Whiche so many benefycis labour to procure That their small myght can nat the charge endure.] Amonge our folys delytynge them in vyces Is yet another sorte of the speritualte Whiche them ouerchargeth with dyuers benefyces And namely suche that lowest ar in degre Of byrth and cunnynge, of this condycion be Defylynge goddes rentis and the chirches goode Them selfe ouer ladynge, as men frantyke and wode The weght is so great they can it nat endure Theyr myght is small, theyr cunnynge is moche lesse Thus this great charge wherof they haue the cure To infernall Fenn doth this pore Asse oppresse And to an Asse moste lyke he is doutles Whiche takynge on his backe sackes nyne or tenne. Destroyeth hymselfe them leuynge in the fenne But though one prebende were to hym suffycient Or one benefyce his lyuynge myght suffyse Yet this blynde fole is nat therwith content But labowreth for mo, and alway doth deuyse Fals meanes to come therto by couetyse He gapeth with his wyde throte insaciable And neuer can content his wyll abhomynable So for the loue of the peny and ryches. He taketh this charge to lyue in welth and eas. Howe be it that sole that hath suche besynes And dyueres charges fyndeth great disseas Neyther shall he god, nor yet the worlde pleas And shall with his burthyns his mynde so vex and comber That halfe his cures, can he nat count nor nomber These carefull caytyfs, that ar of this same sort With cures ar ouerchargyd so that of theyr mynde. Rest haue they none, solace, pleasour nor conforte Howe be it they thynke therby great welth to fynde They gape yet euer, theyr maners lyke the wynde Theyr lyfe without all terme or sertaynte If they haue two lyuynges, yet loke they to haue thre