O Hertles folys, haste here to our doctryne Leue of the wayes of your enormyte Enforce you to my preceptis to enclyne For here shall I shewe you good and veryte Enclyne, and ye fynde shall great prosperyte Ensuynge the doctryne of our faders olde And godly lawes in valour worth great golde Who that wyll folowe the graces manyfolde Whiche ar in vertue, shall fynde auauncement Wherfore ye folys that in your syn ar bolde Ensue ye wysedome and leue your lewde intent Wysdome is the way of men most excellent Therfore haue done, and shortly spede your pace To quaynt your selfe and company with grace. Lerne what is vertue, therin is great solace Lerne what is trouth sadnes and prudence Let grutche be gone, and grauyte purchace Forsake your foly and inconuenyence Cesse to be folys, and ay to sue offence Folowe ye vertue, chefe rote of godlynes For it and wysdome is grounde of clenlynes Wysedome and vertue two thynges ar doutles Whiche man endueth with honour specyall But suche hertis as slepe in folysshnes Knoweth no thynge, and wyll nought knowe at all But in this lytell barge in pryncypall All folysshe mockers I purpos to repreue Clawe he his backe that felyth ytche or greue Mockers and scorners that ar harde of byleue With a rugh combe here wyll I clawe and grate To proue if they wyll from theyr vyce remeue And leue theyr foly whiche causeth great debate Suche caytyfs spare neyther pore man nor estate And where theyr selfe ar moste worthy of dyrysion Other men to scorne is all theyr moste condicion Yet ar mo folys of this abusion Whiche of wyse men despyseth the doctryne With mowes, mockes, scorne, and collusyon Rewardynge rebukes, for theyr good disciplyne Shewe to suche wysdome, yet shall they nat enclyne Unto the same, but set no thynge therby But mocke thy doctryne, styll or openly So in the worlde it apereth comonly That who that wyll a Fole rebuke or blame A mocke or mowe shall he haue by and by Thus in derysyon, haue folys theyr speciall game Correct a wyse man, that wolde eschewe yll name And fayne wolde lerne, and his lewde lyfe amende And to thy wordes he gladly shall intende If by mysfortune a rightwyse man offende He gladly suffreth a iuste correccion And hym that hym techyth taketh for his frende Hym selfe puttynge mekely vnto subieccion Folowynge his preceptis and good dyreccion But if that one a Fole rebuke or blame He shall his techer, hate, sclaunder, and dyffame Howbeit his wordes, oft turne to his owne shame And his owne dartis retourne to hym agayne And so is he sore woundyd with the same And in wo endyth, great mysery and payne It also prouyd full often is certayne That they that on mockes alway theyr myndes cast Shall of all other be mocked at the last