He that goeth right, stedfast sure and fast May hym well mocke that goth haltynge and lame And he that is whyte may well his scornes cast Agaynst a man of ynde, but no man ought to blame Anothers vyce whyle he vsyth the same But who that of synne is clene in dede and thought May hym well scorne whose lyuynge is starke nought The scornes of Naball full dere sholde haue ben bought If Abigayll his wyfe discrete and sage Had nat by kyndnes right crafty meanes sought The wrath of Dauyd to temper and asswage Hath nat two berys in theyr fury and rage Two and fourty Children rent and torne For they the Prophete Helyseus dyd scorne So myght they curse the tyme that they were borne For theyr mockynge of this Prophete dyuyne So many other of this sorte often mowrne For theyr lewde mockes, and fall in to ruyne Thus is it foly for wyse men to enclyne To this lewde flocke of Folys for se thou shall Them moste scornynge that ar most bad of all THENUOY OF BARCLY TO THE FOLYS. Ye mockynge Folys that in scorne set your ioy Proudly dyspysynge goddes punycion Take ye example by Cham the son of Noy Whiche laughyd his Father vnto derysyon Whiche hym, after, cursyd for his transgressyon And made hym seruaunt to all his lyne and stocke So shall ye Caytyfs at the conclusyon Syns ye ar nought, and other scorne and mocke * * * * * Of them that dyspyse euerlastynge ioye, and settyth thynges transytory before thynges eternall and euerlastynge. [Illustration: He is a foule that weyeth in one balaunce The heuen and erth to knowe the heuyest And by his foly and cursed ignoraunce He thynketh that this wretchyd erth is best And thoughe that here be neyther ioy nor rest Yet had some leuer here styll to remayne Than to depart to heuen voyde of al payne] My hande is wery: fayne wolde I rest a space But folys comyth to my shyp so besely That to haue rest: they wyll graunt me no grace That nede I must theyr lewdnes notefy But to recorde this folysshe company They ar suche that this worlde so greatly loue That they despyse the heuenly Royalme aboue They often thynke in theyr mynde preuely And by them selfe in this wyse oft they say O glorious lorde raynynge eternally Graunt me thy grace that I may lyue alway To se of this worlde the extreme ende and day This is my wyll and synguler askynge As for thy royalme, forsoth I set no thynge But yet this fole doth nat desyre this tyme Of so longe lyfe, and yeres alway newe To clens his mynde from all synfull cryme Nor for the loue of goodnes or vertue But rather that he his pleasour may ensue And with his maters and felawes suche as he To folowe ryot, delytys and enormyte.