So his Asse crys to hym ar inuysyble He thynkyth to haue pacyence though that he haue none And vnto hym it is thynge incredyble That suche ar folys whose pacyence is gone Thus coueytyth he to kepe his erys alone And to wrathfull men he wyll no thynge obiect For that hym selfe is with the same infect But somwhat to touche the inconuenyences Whiche by this wrath procedyth to mankynde It is chefe grounde of many great offences Destroynge reason blyndynge the wyt and mynde By malyce man is to all yll inclynde Both symple man, and lordes excellent Do that by wrath oft whiche they after repent Reuoke thy mynde, somwhat thy herte enclyne Unto Archytas a man of hye wysdome Borne the the ryche Cyte namyd Tarentyne Rede howe that he his malyce dyd ouercome For thoughe his seruaunt was fals to hym become And he sore mouyd to auenge the same offence Yet he refraynyd his wrathe by pacyence So socrates so Senyk and Plato Suffred great wronge great iniury and payne And of your fayth sayntis right many mo For christ our mayster dyd great turment sustayne What wo or payne cowde saynt Laurance refrayne From pacience wherfore it is great shame For christen men if they do not the same They suffred deth, ye, and yet were pacyent And many haue prayed, for suche that haue them slayne Where thou mad fole takest greuous punysshement For small occasyon, ye come by chaunce sodayne Fole thou art blynde, and mad to set thy brayne All thynge to venge (by wrath) that doth mysfall For he that part hath lost: by wrath oft lesyth all And forsoth no meruayle, if suche wyse actours Hath wrathes madnes, expelled and set asyde For where that wrath doth rayne with his furours There can no reason nor wysedome longe abyde The wyt it wastyth: so is it a lewde gyde Therfore let mesure, this malyce holde agayne But pacyence is brydyll his madnes to refrayne It longeth nat to any man of hye prudence For to be wrothe, yrous, or gyuys to malancoly No suche passyon nor inconuenyence Can fall to man, ay stedfast wyse and holy But folys ar moste troublyd with this foly Where as a wyse man for any aduersyte Lyueth in quyete mynde and tranquylyte A man well manerd, sad sober and dyscrete If he be ware, wyse, chrafty and prouydent Beholdeth all thynge before his syght and fete. Gydynge hym by mesure a vertue excellent Where as a fole doth all without aduysement And in euery thynge shewyth his folysshnes Wroth at eche worde, as mayster of madnes Wherfore ye folys se ye no lenger tary But on the dull Asse hastely assende That a slowe beest may hasty folys cary For your mad wrath dowtyth no thynge the ende Your madnes can nat your blynde mysdede defende For who that one sleyth, angry and feruent Ought to be hangyd whan he is pacyent THE ENUOY OF THE ACTOUR.