Therfore me thynke of all thynge it is best Man to be pleased and content with his degre For why in mesure, is suerty eas and rest And ay moste peryll in hyest dignyte Fortune is full of changes and mutabylyte Trust nat therto, therby comyth do gode But nowe hye nowe lowe, vnstable as a flode ALEXANDER BARKLAY TO THE FOLYS. Labour nat man with to moche besy cure To clymme to hye lyst thou by fortune fall For certaynly, that man slepyth nat sure That lyeth lows vpon a narowe wall Better somtyme to serue, than for to gouerne all For whan the Net is throwen into the se The great fysshe ar taken and the pryncipall Where as the small escapyth quyte and fre * * * * * Of them that be diseasyd and seke and ar impacient and inobedyent to the Phesycyan. [Illustration: If one be vexed with sore infirmyte Within his body felynge dyseas and payne And wyll nat gladly with perfyte mynde agre To a wyse Phesycian that wolde hym hele agayne He is a fole, and shall his foly sore complayne And if that he by his selfe wyll do sterue It is but well: syns he it doth deserue.] He that is feble with sekenes outher wounde Wherwith he feleth hym selfe so kept in payne That dye he muste but if remedy be founde He is a fole, if that he haue dysdayne Of wyse Phesycyans: and medecines souerayne And wyll nat sue theyr counsell and aduysement Wherby he myght haue helth and short amendement Thoughe the Phesycyan (of his lyfe) hym assure So he be ruled, and vnto his mynde agre The pacyent yet kepyth no dyete nor mesure In mete nor drynke, and wyll nat gouerned be But foloweth Ryot and all superfluyte Receyuynge colde water in stede of ale or wyne Agaynst read and counsell of crafty medycyne What mete or drynke that is most contagious And most infectyf to his sekenes or dyseas And to hym forbyden, as moste contrarious Unto his sekenes. That namely doth hym pleas But that thynge that myght hym helpe and greatly eas He hatyth moste, and wyll none receyue at all. Tyll this small sore, at the last become mortall Suche wyll no counsell ensue, nor mesure haue Nor temper theym selfe in lesse nor yet in more. Tyll theyr yll gouernaunce brynge them to theyr graue Retournynge into grounde lyke as they were before But who that soone wolde, be helyd of his sore Whan it is newe ought to fynde remedy. For in olde sorys is greatest ieopardy A small sparcle often tyme doth augment It selfe: and groweth to flames peryllous Right so small wellys whiche semeth to be spent With lytell sprynges and Ryuers, ofte so growys Unto great waters, depe and ieopadous. So a small sore augmentyth, styll preuely By lytell and lytell for lacke of remedy