PASQVILS FOOLES-CAP SENT TO SVCH (TO keepe their weake braines warme) as are not able to conceiue aright of his Mad-cap. With Pasquils PASSION for the worlds waywardnesse. Begun by himselfe, and finished by his Friend MORPHORIVS.

¶Imprinted at LONDON, for Thomas Iohnes, dwel­ling neere Holborne Conduit. 1600.

TO MY VERY GOOD friende, Master Edward Conquest, as much happinesse from Hea­uen, as his worthy heart can wish.

SIR, to forget your vndeserued kindnesse, were a note out of my nature: & yet how kindely to requite it, is many notes aboue my ability. But as a lame man, that striues to goe, shewes hee would runne, if hee had legges: so, in the hu­mour of my good will, imagin a Desire of a grea­ter matter. But leauing these complements, and to come to my purpose; as I haue found you a kinde Spectator of my La­bours, so let mee entreat you, at my hands to accept this trea­tise, with a foolish title. Where, if VVit haue plaid the Wagge, let him not haue his name for nothing: and where you finde a head fit for this Cappe, either bestowe it vpon him in charity, or send him where he may haue them for his money. I know you are acquainted with many that well deserue it: whome, least they should be mistaken for better men, I pray you giue them the Cappe for their Cognisaunce. And so, hoping that your discretion will beare with my imperfection, to finde no better worke, to giue notice of my good will; I rest, with much thankfulnesse, in more Affection than Protestation.

Yours assured, to commaund, N. B.

❧ To the Reader.

YOV that Read, to tearme you Gentle and he not, you would thinke I did mocke you: & therefore giue me leaue to thinke of you, as I finde you. But to the matter: Mad-cap hath past one fit, and new is fallen into a­nother: what it is, you may partly guesse by the Title. For, in a Foole, is hidde a great deale of vaine matter: which you shall heere finde runne ouer, in a fewe Ver­ses; not the best that euer you redde, nor perhaps the worst that you may meete with. But to be short, what Pasquill be­gun, Morphorius hath ended: how well I say not: but the better, if you like it: to whose kindnesse, in hope of patience, I commit it; and so abruptly I leaue it.

Your friend:

❧ TO HIS HONEST friende Pasquill, in all haste.

FRiende Pasquill, hearing of late of the paines that thou hast taken in repre­hending of the wicked (among the spi­rits of best condition, not a little cō ­mēded) I haue thought good (finding the corruption of this Age) to put a Foole, to thy Knaue. Among which weak witted brains, I haue not let slip such Beetle headed Asses, as taking v­pon thē the worke of thy Wit (in seeking to rob thee of thy VVorthinesse) haue shewed the height of their Foo­lishnesse. Who, among other such wise people, finding their names but in their Natures, will (I hope) like good children, rather mend their faults, then be an­gry with their maisters: if not, let them sinke in their owne sorrowe: giue the Mad-man his Mad-Cappe, and the Foole his Fooles-Cappe: thou and I be friends, and the world fare as it list. And so farewell.

Thine, as his owne, MORPHORIO.

Morphorius to the Reader, in the behalfe of his friende Pasquill.

HEE, that of late was in a Madding fit,
Doth from a franzy to a folly fall:
And which is better, madde, or foolishe witte?
I thinke as good, almost haue none at all.
Well, Sugar sweete, or bitter as the gall,
Tis Pasquils humour, so I pray you take it:
And as you like it, chuse it, or forsake it.
His meaning was, to please none but himselfe,
Nor to displease but those that well deserue it:
He doth not care, though Enuy play the elfe:
His dishe is drest, and he will not Reserue it:
But to the world, for such poore diet serue it,
As are content with ordinarie dishes,
While Nicer Gulles are choakt with Gugin fishes.
When he was Madde, hee Rag'd against the knaue:
Now idely fitted, falles vpon the Foole,
In hope that Doctors better wisdome haue,
Than Carpe at schollers that doe goe to schoole,
And wishe a workeman but to knowe his toole:
For Graues-end Barge can neuer passage haue,
Till it be furnisht with a Foole or Knaue.

PASQVILS Fooles-Cap.

WHat meanes this world, that Muses can not rest,
But one or other will be working still?
Tis not time now to breake too broad a iest;
Least, had I wist, repent a heedlesse will,
While hāmering skonces haue vnhappy skill
Which in their Cradles, being borne accurst,
Will euer construe all things to the woorst.
But since the Wisdome of the world I finde,
Before Heauens VVisdome, Foolishnesse indeede,
While such Illusions doe the spirit blinde,
As onely growe vpon vngratious seede:
Which wicked Humours in the heart doe breede,
While truest Wisdome liues aboue the Sunne:
Let me but play the Foole, and I haue done.
But some, perhaps, in pieuish spight will say,
The fielde is large, wherein I am to walke:
Where I may wander many an idle way,
And make a deale of fiddle faddle talke:
But say, my Muse mistake greene Cheese for Chalke,
This is the worst (to hide her idle braines)
She shall haue but the Fooles-cappe for her paines.
But, let her weare it, since it is her due.
Who hath no Wisdom, can not speake of Wit:
Who neuer came where Wit and Reason grue,
Must needs shoot wide, whē that they aime at it.
For, while the Gander by the Goose doth sit,
Tis ten to one, how euer prooue the weather,
But that the birds will all be of a feather.
Then, good Wise Man, if such a one thou bee,
That dost these lines of little matter reede,
I pray thee be not in a chafe with mee,
Although a lade be spurred till hee bleede:
Keepe thou thy Stable for a better Steede:
Who hath beene well brought vp in Reasons Schoole,
May haue the patience to goe by the Foole.
But, if it be, you can not goe along,
But that you needes will stumble at a strawe;
If that your selfe will doe your selfe such wrong,
To let the Worme vpon your Wits to gnawe,
Vntill a Crowe be come to be a Dawe:
Then do but thinke how some this [...]east will smother,
Why should one Foole be angry with another?
Then be not angry, let the Foole alone,
Except thou be a bird of his owne broode:
For trust it true, it will be ten to one,
If once thy heade be couerd with his Hoode,
It will so heate thy braines, and staine thy bloode,
That thou wilt fall into such Extasies,
As while thou liu'st, thou neuer wilt be wise.
Beware therefore in time of Had I wist,
Let not Impatience shewe thy pieuishnesse:
Keepe thy Conceipt within Discretions List:
Where thou maiest looke vpon that Idlenesse,
That fils the world too full of Foolishnesse:
Seeke thou to knowe but where true wit doth dwell,
And learne to laugh at Fooles, and all is well.
And if thou chaunce to meete an idle Mate,
Whose tongue goes all too glibbe vpon the [...]eare,
And chiefe delight is so much in his prate,
As where hee comes, will be chiefe Prater there:
In friendly kindnesse tell him in his eare,
That in the Rules of Wit and Reasons schoole,
He will be counted but a prating foole.
And if you hap to light vpon a Gull,
That is conceipted of his Mother wit,
And doth apply his beetle-headed scull
But to an humour of an idle fit;
In honest kindnesse let him heare of it,
That in the Rowles of Wisdomes Rules you reede,
Lesse hope of him, than of a Foole indeede.
And if you chaunce to see the Sonne of Pride
Looke fifteene thousand mile aboue the Moone,
And lye abedde vntill his idle hide
Must make a Morning, of an after-noone;
For feare his Worshippe should be vp too soone:
Least that the Ayer should happe to doe him harme,
Lend him the Fooles-cappe for to keepe him warme.
And if you chaunce to spy a Subtill Staue,
That hath a world of Simple wits beguilde,
And, like a cunning, cogging coosening knaue,
On others harmes, his helpes doth onely builde,
Tell him that Sathan is a subtill childe:
That while the wicked golde for drosse doe sell,
Makes Fooles seeme wise, vntill they come in hell.
Hee that doth murther twentie thousand men,
And sacke their cities, and their townes deface:
And, with the dash but of a wicked Penne,
Bring a poore world into a pitious case,
To gaine himselfe a kinde of Monarches grace:
Tell him what Angels read in Vertues schoole,
That bloudy Pride doth breede a hellish Foole.
Hee that doth couet more then is his owne,
And scrapes and scratcheth for a little drosse:
And, all with ease is like a Bladder blowne,
And neuer cares for any neighbours crosse,
For his owne gaine, to giue a thousand losse:
Tell him, when Wisdome beates the world about,
The Foole will quickly lay the Miser out,
The swaggring Huffecappe that will stare and sweare,
That hee will cut through the whole piece of cloath;
And face to face, will meete the olde blinde Beare,
And breake the Canne, that's filled vp with froath,
And cares not how he throwe away anoath:
Let him be sure when Vertues Honours fall,
In VVisdomes Court he hath no place at all,
The sneaking Coward that doth closely creepe,
And feareth euery shadowe where hee goes:
And of himselfe both watch and warde doth keepe,
For feare his Friendes should growe to be his Foes:
Doth so much title of true Manhoode lose,
That hee may reade what Truthe in honour tries,
A Coward neuer can be truely wise.
The Idle Spendthrift that will sell his land,
To feede the humours of an addle heade:
And sowes his seede vpon the barren sand,
Till late Repentance liue to begge his bread,
Let him beleeue what many a one hath read:
How euer Fancy make excuse for it,
Such Had I wist had neuer happy wit.
Hee that doth thinke that Wit is but in Wealth,
And plots to purch [...]se kingdomes with a Purse,
And neuer thinketh of the Spirits health:
But doth his heart with wicked humours nurse,
And for a blessing, falles vpon a curse:
Let him confesse, if in heau'ns blessings blot,
Hee finde himselfe a wicked Foole, or not.
Hee that lookes Babies in his Mistris eyes,
And beates his braines to tell an Idle tale:
And thinkes himselfe, that hee is wondrous wise,
That breakes a [...]east, though it be nere so stale:
And for a Nut, crackes nothing but a Shale:
How ere hee thinke of his owne wit amisse,
Wisdome will tell him, what a Foole hee is.
She that is neither Noble, faire, nor wise,
Nor scarce so rich as a newe shorned Eawe;
And yet, conceited in her owne foule eyes,
When shee is dabbled three foote in the deawe,
That shee may seeme a prettie handsome shrewe:
Let her not thinke, but such a Shut the do [...]re
Is halfe a Foole; and if she be no more.
Hee that hath neither Trueth nor Honestie,
Good hand, good legge, good body, nor good face,
Nor any such exceeding qualitie
As may aduaunce him vnto Honours place:
Yet, thinkes himselfe a man of speciall grace;
When mad-men treade the Woodcockes Morris daūce,
Giue him the Fooles-cappe for his Cognisaunce.
Shee that is fifteene mile about the waste,
And all with fat vnable is to goe,
Yet makes her face vp in a piece of paste,
As though she were an Image of Rie Dowe;
Tell her but trueth that VVit and Reason knowe,
That this is all, that Fame doth her affoorde,
A filthie Owle is but a foolish Birde.
Hee that doth hit vpon a printed booke,
And findes a name neere fitting to his owne,
And of his owne poore wit hath vndertooke
The ground of all hath from his humor growne,
When euery Bird is by her feather knowne,
Pasquill doth tell him that poore Aesops Pie
Will shewe him how his Wit hath gone awry.
Hee that doth many, all for Wanton loue,
And hath no Reason for his fond affection:
But all too late doth with Repentance prooue
The wofull fruites of wretched wils direction,
While Want and Sorrowe are the Soules correction:
Tell him, such babies may the dugge goe sucke;
While louing Fooles haue neuer better lucke.
Shee, in a glasse, that sees her Sorrell haire,
And straight will put it to the Painters die,
And then doth thinke that shee is wondrous faire;
When flatt [...]ry feedes her humour with a Lie,
Oh, let her not in such an errour die;
But bid her kindly cracke this friendly Nut,
So foule a Dowd' is but a foolish Slut.
Hee that delights to tell an idle tale,
Vpon the prattle of a cogging Mate,
And carelessly his credit se [...] to sale:
Which being noted for his foolish prate,
He shall be sure to finde, although too late;
That Wisdom reades these Rounds in Reasons schooles,
Newes-Carriers are next Neighbours vnto Fooles.
She that doth file her tongue for Eloquence,
To entertaine a world with Idle talke:
And thinkes shee hath the very Quintescence
Of quicke conceite, wherein her wits do walke,
Yet doth not knowe a Buzzard from a Hawlke;
Let her beleeue, such giddie headed Tittes
Are not commended for the truest Wittes.
Hee that doth loue to talke of Robin Hoode,
Yet neuer drewe one Arrowe in his Bowe:
And yet doth thinke his skill is wondrous good,
That scarce the compasse of a marke doth knowe:
When such a Goose-cappe doth a shooting goe,
Tell him, that in the aime of Wisdomes eye,
Wide handed Wits will euer shoote awry.
Hee that doth put his state vpon his friendes,
In hope of grace, when all his good is lost,
Shall finde his Wit not worth two puddings endes,
When want of pence to reckon with the Hoste,
Doth make the Begger chalke vpon the poste:
Whose base condition doth too plainely showe,
Hee was not wise, that plaide the Woodcocke so.
Shee that doth thinke, shee hath a rare conceite,
That giues the Cuckoe to her kindest friend;
And laughes to thinke vpon that close deceit,
That doth but breede Repentance in the ende:
Tell her, if she the sooner not amend,
Wisdom sets downe, that knows what Wit doth mean [...]
A wicked Drabbe is but a foolish queane.
He that that is proud of his conceipted wit,
When he can cogge, and cozen, prate, and lie:
And place himselfe with better men to sit,
Then may beseeme so base a Rascaldry,
As is too farre from thought of Chyualry;
When euery Asse his due reward shall haue,
The Fooles-cappe is too good for such a Knaue.
Hee that in heart doth say there is no God,
And neither thinkes of Heau'n, nor yet of Hell:
Nor hath a feeling of that heau'nly Rodde,
That makes the Sowle, in Sorrowes teares, to tell
How Mercie doth within the Spirit dwell:
Within the booke of Wisdomes blessed Schoole,
The Lord of Heauen hath set him downe a Foole.
Hee that will lende more than he well may spare,
And he that spendes all that he hath and more;
And onely trusteth vnto Fortunes share,
And cares not how he runne vpon the score,
Vntill the Begger meete him at his dore:
Wisdome will tell him truely in the end,
Hee is a Foole that is not his owne friend.
Shee that can looke as mildely as a Lambe,
Yet is a Tigre inwardly in hearte;
And cares not how, nor where she leaue the Ramme,
When she hath gotten once the rutting parte:
It is a Rule, in Wit and Reasons Arte,
That she, that hath no better natur'd Wit,
The Wise will tearme a dogged foolish Tit.
Hee that is brought vp idly in his Youth,
And scornes to labour in his elder yeeres,
And neuer thinkes vpon the day of Ruthe,
When want (entangled in the Beggers breers)
The heauie sound of helpelesse Sorrowe heares:
Let him beleeue, that Trueth doth plainely wright;
The Fooles-cappe fits the Idle begger right.
Hee that can plot a world of villany,
And neuer cares what Vertues loue deserueth:
And sortes himselfe with wicked company,
That from the way of perfect Wisdome swarueth,
While Mercies hand the gratious heart preserueth:
That sinfull wretch will finde in Sathans schoole,
A damned villaine is a cursed Foole.
Hee that doth fill his Cophers full of Goulde,
Yet will not weare good Cloathes on his backe:
But doth a kinde of Clownish humor houlde,
To haue his Garment cut out, like a sacke,
And thinkes Redde Herings haue a daintie smacke:
Tell him in kindenesse (that he may not quarrel)
The Fooles-Cappe will be fit for his Apparrell.
Shee that is giuen to Ease and Sluttishnesse,
And trifles out the time in Trompery:
And yet will thinke it is no pieuishnesse,
To feede her selfe with Idle Foppery;
May hap to finde in Sorrowes Misery,
That when the Grashopper doth leaue to sing,
An idle Hielding is a foolish thing.
Hee that doth studie twentie things at once,
And hath intent for to performe them all:
And yet his beetle addle-headed skonce,
In full conclusion can doe none at all:
If that the Fooles-cappe to his fortune fall,
Let him not thinke but it will finely fit
The Idle heade, that hath no better Wit.
Shee that is giuen to Pride and Brauery,
And Ruffin-like, will sweare, and swash it out;
And studies nothing els but Knauery,
To bring a wicked kinde of world about;
And cares not whome she followes with a flout:
Such foolish Kittes of such a skittish kinde,
In Bridewell booke are euery where to finde.
Hee that is here to day, yonder to morowe,
And cares not how hee raungeth here and there:
Not careth what hee can or begge, or borowe,
To spende or spoile, he cares not how nor where:
Oh, tell that Idle Fellowe in his eare,
If that hee doe not take the greater care,
The Foole will catch him, ere hee be aware.
Shee that doth loue to gossippe, and to tattle,
And leaues her house to keepe it selfe alone;
And cares not how she spend the time in prattle,
Till shee haue bar'd her Husband to the boane:
Let her not thinke but such an Idle Ioane
Must haue this note set downe vpon [...]er name;
A Tattling houswife is a foolish Dame.
Hee that can combe his head and curle his bearde,
And set his Ruffes, and weare his Cloake in print,
And by his side can finely weare his swearde,
And learne to fleere, and leere, and looke a squint,
And keepe his steppes, within a measures stint:
Let him be sure to passe with this good flout;
Hee lackes the Fooles-Cappe yet to set him out.
Hee that is well in seruice entertainde,
And iustly hath the due of his desart;
And by his labour, findes that hee hath gainde
The carefull comfort of an honest heart;
Yet fondly will with such a Master part:
Tell him, what Truthe doth by Experience knowe▪
Hee is a Foole, leaues such a Master, so.
Hee that will let his Wit to runne on Wheeles,
And in proud tearmes will with his betters stand,
Vntill his Tongue be tempered by his heeles,
Vntill his Braines haue better manners scand:
And if the Foole doe take him by the hand,
Bid him haue Patience, to endure the sounde;
That lacke of Wit will lay a Foole a ground.
Hee that in Libels takes delight to write,
And cares not whom hee wickedly defame;
But pieuishly will shewe a baggage Spite,
To touch the Honour of an Honest name:
What shall I say, that hee is much to blame?
Yea, and so much, as for his idle vaines,
Hee well deserues the Fooles-cappe for his paines.
Hee that hath all his studie in the Clowdes,
And all misliketh euery thing hee reedes:
And what the Sunne within her Circle shrowdes,
All in the height his haughty Humour feedes:
If hee doe chaunce to light on Herbes for Weedes,
Hee is but foolish; rise he nere so soone,
That runnes in haste to ouertake the Moone.
Hee that will Reade, before he learne to Spell;
And write a Booke, before he knowe a Blot;
And keepe a Shoppe, before he learne to sell;
And fall to galloppe ere hee learne to trot:
Whither such one thinke himselfe wise or not,
Let him be sure that better wits doe reede,
Such Madhead fellowes are but Fooles indeede.
Hee that with pleasure followes Cardes and Dice,
Drinking and wenching, and such Idle sportes:
Vntill too late Repentance knowe the price
Of Patience passage to Saint Sorrowes portes;
Whereto the Begger most of all resortes:
Oh let him knowe when he doth comfort lacke.
The Begger Foole will haue him by the backe.
Shee that doth finde her Husband true and kinde,
And for her wants to worke both [...]ight and day:
Yet like the Wethercocke, with euery winde,
Will turne her Humour euery idle way,
And cares not how hee fall into decay,
So shee be fedde according to her fit;
Shee is a Baggage, and a foolish [...].
Hee that is maried to an honest wife,
That, as her life, in loue doth holde him deare:
With whome his heart may haue a quiet life,
And, in content, liue many a merry yeare
Yet leaues a Doe to take a Rascall Deere:
The fruites of Will doe prooue his Wit accurst,
That so will leaue the best, to take the worst.
Hee that doth enuie euery mans good happe,
And knowes not how to get himselfe in grace:
And layes his Loue but all in Fortunes lappe,
Whose custome is her followers to deface:
When hee is fallen into a pitious case,
Oh let him knowe, before he hang himselfe,
An enuious foole is euen such an Elfe.
Shee that doth keepe an Inne for euery Guest,
And makes no care what winde blowe vp her skirt,
And readie is to breake a Chaucers ieast,
To make a Smocke euen measure with a Shirt:
If such a one be call'd a Foolish flirt,
Twas not for nothing that she had her name,
When all the world is witnesse to her shame,
Hee that doth take the lawe, but as a Ieast,
And will be hangd but for good fellowshippe,
And thinkes it nothing to be halter blest,
When from the Gallowes it is but a skippe▪
Oh, let him not in anger hang the lippe,
If by desert this due reward hee take;
Hee was a Foole, that hangd for fashion sake,
He that wil weary out his friends with borrowing,
And be behoulding to an Enemy,
And kill himselfe with too much Sorrowing,
To thinke, the touch of Treasons villany
Should make such worke in wicked company:
Wisdome will tell him, what Experience tries,
That kinde of Wit will neuer make him Wise.
Hee that importunes an approued friend,
And hee that feares to speake where hee may speede;
And in beginning, lookes not to the end;
But loues to glorie in a Wicked deede,
And will his heart with wicked humours feede:
These Wits doe shewe (that are so fitly matcht)
A Neast of Fooles, that Wisdome neuer hatcht.
Hee that doth set his hand to euery Bill,
And neither cares for Right nor Equitie,
And onely bendeth his vnhappie skill,
But to the ouerthrowe of Honesty:
Fooles, that are so neere in affinitie,
When VVisdome makes a tryall of true Wit,
Not one of these that hath to doe with it,
He that doth build high Castles in the Ayre,
Vntill they headlong tumble on his necke:
And hee that will not an olde Shippe repaire,
Till it be too farre tainted with a leake:
If that the Woodcocke giue his Wits the peake:
Let him not chafe if that it be his chaunce,
To weare the Fooles-Cappe, in a Moris-daunce.
Hee that can play on Twentie hands at once,
And turnes his humour vnto euery time:
And hath his Spirit tempered for the nonce,
To set his flowers onely in the prime:
If when he thinkes most warily to clime,
By due desart a breakeneck-fall hee haue,
His craft doth prooue him but a Foolish knaue
He that will talke of euery thing hee knowes,
And credit giue to euery thing hee heares:
And builds his knowledge only on suppose,
Yet vnderstands not what too plaine appeares:
How young or ould soeuer be his yeares,
Who of his poore Wit giueth witnesse so;
Thinke him an arrant Foole, and let him goe,
Hee that doth wonder at a Weathercocke,
And plaies with euery feather in the winde,
And is in loue with euery Nannicocke;
Yet scarcely knowes an Orange by the Rinde:
When euery Foole is found out in his Kinde,
How is it possible but he should passe,
For a poore silly simple witted Asse?
Hee that doth thinke it is no Wickednesse,
To lead a young man into Wantonnesse.
But takes delight in all Vngodlinesse;
Vntil the Heart in Sorrowes he auinesse,
Doe shewe the fruites of VVils vnhappinesse;
Let that vile villaine reade in Vertues Schooles,
Such wicked wretches are Vngratious Fooles.
Hee that will chaunge a Iennet for a Iade,
And put his Land into a little Howse:
And, in the way where Little VVit doth wade,
Watch a great Mountaine for a little Mowse,
And sits to feede a Monkey with a Lowse:
Where VVill is so in folly ouergone,
Wisdome sayes plainely, his is small or none.
Hee that will put his state vpon aduenture,
And may be safe and if it please himselfe:
And hee that bindes his seruice by Indenture,
To baggage courses for a little pelfe:
If that his Shippe doe runne vpon a Shelfe,
Let him not thinke, but that poore Wit of his,
From VVisdomes Course, was carried quite amisse.
Hee that will creepe vnto an olde Ioyne-stoole,
And serue a Thatcher for a Bunch of strawe,
And hee that goes to worke without his toole,
And loues to wrangle with a man of Lawe,
And thinkes no Birde so prettie as the Dawe:
How ere such one be of his Wit conceiued,
Wisdome will tell him he is much deceiued.
Hee that will treade a Measure as he walkes,
And connterfaite Maide Marians countenance:
And loues to fall into those whisper talkes,
That bring poore Wit into a pitious traunce:
If that the Foole doe light on him by chaunce,
Hee must assume what Fates to him assigne:
I can not helpe him, tis no fault of mine.
Hee that will Drinke vntill his braines be merry,
And Eate vntill his stomacke be too full,
And Lie a bed vntill his boanes be wearie,
And Prate so long vntill he prooue a Gull:
If that such braines be lin'd with Ganders wooll,
When such Wise creatures put their Wits together,
To chuse the wisest, who knowes which is whether?
Hee that all day sits blowing at a cole,
And neuer leaues till hee put out the fire:
And hee that houlds his finger in a hole,
To please the humour of a fond desire:
And hee that loues to trample in the mire:
When these wise men togither make a play,
The Foole will runne with all their Wits away.
Hee that will in an humour leaue a friend,
And in a furie fall vpon a foe:
While ill beginnings make as bad an end,
When poore Repentance doth too late beshrowe
The heedelesse Will, that Wit doth ouerthrowe:
That Foole must needes be turn'd vnto the List,
Emong the number of the Had I wist.
Hee that will tell his secrets to a stranger,
And play the Coward with an enemie:
Hee that will put himselfe in needelesse daunger,
To followe a mad headed companie:
Let him take heede a sodaine villany
Make him not finde in true Repentance Schoole,
A backward Wit lackes little of A Foole.
Hee that will weare his wealth vpon his backe,
Yet in his purse doth scarce his dinner carry:
And hee that saies to giue his necke the cracke,
Because he will not for his fortune tarry:
If such a Foole become a Buzzards quarry,
When Carelesse Will doth shewe his Wit so smal,
Tis not my fault, I cannot doe withall.
Hee that doth studie out his braines in trifles,
And misse the humour of a better marke:
And cosens his conceite with Foolish nifles,
In taking of a Bunting for a Larke,
And euery Pibble for a Diamond sparke:
Hee that doth so his Will to folly fit,
Doth plainely shewe he hath no perfect Wit.
Hee that can eate no other Meate but Milke,
And for his Horse, must haue an Ambling Nagge:
And cannot weare a Shirt, but soft as Silke:
Nor keepe his Coyne, but in a Golden Bagge,
And must be knowne his Mothers kindest VVagge:
Such smoothed Godsons shew in Wisdomes schoole,
A Milk-soppe Babie is more halfe a Foole.
Hee that will be afraide of euery dreame,
And thinketh euery puddle is a poole:
And runnes ten miles to eate a messe of Creame,
And can not sit but on a Cushin stoole:
If such a Noddy be not thought a foole,
Hee hath great fauour in the Rule of Wit,
That sees his Weakenesse, and concealeth it.
Hee that doth fill his heade so full of humours,
Hee knowes not where hee may in quiet sit:
And hee that loues to raise vnciuill rumours,
Vntill that Iustice doe in Iudgement sit,
Vpon the workes of such a wicked wit:
Such wicked VVits, for honest peoples health,
Might well be banisht from a Common wealth.
Hee that all night doth watch a Conny borough,
To catch a Ferret, that hath broke his Muzzle:
And hee that squats a Hare within a furrowe,
And sees how shee within her Muce doth Nuzzle;
And yet so long about the Bush doth puzzle,
That she is gone ere he can well beset her,
Which, of these two good Fooles, may be the better?
Hee that doth put all to the latter day,
To recken euen with all the world at once:
And in the meane time is at such a stay,
Hee knowes not how to vse his addle Skonce:
If such an Asse be noddied for the nonce,
I say but this, to helpe his Idle fit;
Let him but thanke himselfe for lacke of Wit,
Hee that wilfully falles into offence,
And satisfaction neuer cares to make:
But carelessely stands in his owne defence,
While that the Foole his Wits doth ouertake:
When late Repentance makes his heart to ake,
Hee scapeth well, if (for such idle vaines)
Worse then the Fooles-cappe answere not his paines.
Hee that loues to be noted for strange fashions,
And for his lockes, and for his kinde of gate:
And in his Muses, and his Passions,
Will not be thought an ordinany mate:
If that his Wittes come to themselues, too late,
I know not well how to be his Aduiser;
But euen be sory, that hee was not wiser.
Hee that will hoorde vp all for a deere yeare;
Yet in the meane time want necessities
Hee that will be vnto himselfe so neere,
As bring himselfe into extreamities,
By his owne wilfull caus'd calamities,
This is the end that will fall out of it;
Such Niggard Fooles haue neuer better Wit.
Hee that doth put his wealth vpon a Cocke,
A Carde, a Die, or such an Idle toy:
And hath his humour so much on the Smocke,
As if it were his Spirits onely ioy:
When Soorrowes sighes doe shewe the heartes annoy,
Let him goe backe vnto Repentance schoole,
And see how long his VVit hath plaid the Foole.
Hee that will busie be with Euery matter,
Yet scarce hath power to bring one well to passe:
And neuer leaues to cosen, lie, and flatter,
Vntill hee prooue himselfe a Craftre Asse:
Let him but looke in the Foles looking Glasse,
And there his Woodcocke Wit shall plainely haue
The true proportion of a Paltry Knaue.
Hee that perswades himselfe, He is a King,
Yet all the world doth for a Begger knowe him:
And hee that takes the VVinter for the Spring,
Because the Sunne a little light doth showe him
If want of VVit doe wholly ouerthrowe him,
And that the Cockes combe to his cappe doe fall,
Tis not my fault, I can not doe withall.
Hee that puts fifteene elles into a Ruffe,
And seauenteene yards into a swagg'ring slappe:
And twentie thousand Crownes into a Muffe,
And halfe his land into a hunting Cappe:
If that the foole doe catch him in his trappe,
There like a Woodcocke let him walke about:
When hee is in, I cannot helpe him out.
Hee that in all his thoughts is so vnholy,
Hee makes no care of any good conceight:
But giues himselfe so much to Idle folly,
That vnto Hell hee runnes the high way straight:
If hee be poysoned with the Diuels baight,
I can not choose but tell him like a friend,
Such wicked Fooles will haue a wofull end.
Hee that will Brase his face at Lothebury,
Because he will not blush at Knauery:
And hee that will refuse no Drudgery,
To gather Drosse by any Slauery;
And yet will stand vpon his Brauery:
He is no foole, whoeuer be an Asse,
Makes such a Couer for a looking glasse.
Hee that repents him of no wickednesse,
Nor takes delight in any godlinesse:
But in the way of all vnthriftinesse,
Doth wast the time of Natures wretchednesse;
Where helplesse Sorrowes, in vnhappinesse,
Doe breede the Spirits endlesse heauinesse:
That Foole is in the height of foolishnesse.
Hee that regardes not how hee vse his speech,
Nor careth how the world doe goe about,
Nor maketh reckening who beholde his breech,
Nor how hee play the Logger headed lowte:
Where VVisemen liue, if hee be beaten out,
Let him be patient, if it come to passe
A beastly Foole be handled like an Asse.
Hee that doth make his Tongue a two hand sword,
And only seekes his Honour all by stealth:
And cares not how hee falsifie his worde,
Nor by how much disgrace to gather wealth:
How euer so his Carcasse be in health,
Wisdom describes him, in true Honours schoole,
A Gull, a Knaue, a Coward, and a Foole.
Hee that doth gaine more, then he well may spend,
And prattles more then Trueth doth vnderstand:
And in his actions, alwaies doth intend
Vpon the stay of wicked workes to stande:
If that the Diuell take him by the hand,
Let him beleeue what highest Trueth doth tell;
Hee is a Foole, that leaueth Heau'n for Hell.
Hee that doth take a Shadowe for a Substance;
And yet doth thinke he hath a perfect sight:
And hee that takes an Humour for an Instance;
And yet beleeues his braines be in the right:
Hee that in darkenesse so doth looke for light
(How euer Will do take his VVittes to schoole)
Wisdome in deede will finde him but a Foole.
Hee that hath once a piece of worke begunne,
And knowes not how nor when to make an end:
And hee whose will his Wittes doth ouerrunne,
To make a Foe in wronging of a Friend:
Hee that doth so amisse his Spirit spend,
(Howeuer so his owne conceit doe deeme him)
Wisdome in deede will but a Foole esteeme him.
Hee that is Esau for Vnthriftinesse,
And followes Caine in his vngodlinesse:
And loues Achit [...]phell for wickednesse,
And is a Iudas, in vnfaithfulnesse,
Whateuer showe he make of holinesse:
That man I finde in too much foolishnesse,
Hath redde the Scripture in vnhappinesse.
Hee that of Machauile doth take instruction
To manage all the matters of his thought;
And treades the way but to his owne destruction,
Till late Repentance be too dearely bought,
Shall finde it true, that hath beene often taught:
As good be Idle as to goe to schoole,
To come away with nothing but the Foole,
For feare whereof, least some of mine owne sect
(That haue but plaid the Fooles, with lacke of VVit)
Doe kindely tell mee of my Cares neglect,
In finding humours for the time more fit:
While wicked Spirits doe their venome spit:
I will conclude (to prooue worlds VVit an Asse)
Mans Wit is vaine, shalbe, and euer was.
Sapientia mundi, stultitia coram Deo.

Pasquils passion for the worlds waiward­nesse.

WIcked, vngratious, and vngodly Age,
Where hatefull thoughts are gotten to their height,
How should my spirit in true passions rage?
Describe the courses of thy vile conceight,
That feede the world but with the diuels baight:
While wofull hearts, with inward sorrowes wounded,
Finde Wit and Reason in their sense confounded.
No, no, the depth of thy vnknowne distresse
(Wherein the heart is ouerwhelm'd with woes)
Exceedes the power of passion to expresse;
While so much griefe within the Spirit growes,
As all the power of Patience ouerthrowes:
While vertuous minds, within their sowles agrieued,
Must helpelesse die, and cannot be relieued.
The clearest eye must seeme to haue no seeing,
And Eloquence must be to silence bound,
And Honours essence seeme to haue no beeing,
Where wicked windes runne Vertues shippe a ground,
While healthfull spirits fall into a swound;
That only Pride, that weares the golden horne,
May liue at ease, and laugh the world to scorne.
If euery right were rightly apprehended,
And best deseruings best might be regarded,
And Carefull workes were to their worth commended,
And Gratious spirits gratiously rewarded,
And wicked craft from Conscience care discarded;
Then might the Angels sing in Heaeuen, to see
What blessed courses on the earth would be.
But oh, the world is at an other passe,
Fooles haue such Maskes, men can not see their faces:
There is such flattery in a looking Glasse,
That winking eyes can not see their disgraces,
That are apparant in too open places:
But what auailes vnto a wicked minde?
No eye so clowdy, as the wilfull blinde.
To see the sleight of subtill sneaking spirits
(That dare not see the Glasse of their disgraces)
Thriue in the World, while better natur'd merits
Can not aspire vnto those blessed places,
Where faithlesse hearts should neuer shewe there faces:
Would it not grieue an honest heart to knowe it?
Although the tongue be sworne it may not showe it.
To see a horse of seruice in the field,
Hurt by a Iade, that can but kicke and fling:
To see Vlisses weare Achilles shield,
While hissing Serpents haue a Hellish sting:
To see the Knaue of Clubbes take vp the King,
Although hee be a wicked helpe at Mawe,
Twas but a clowne that yet deuis'd the lawe.
To see a sight of Curres worry a Hound,
A flight of Buzzards fall vpon a Hauke,
A Coward villaine giue a Knight a wound,
To heare a Rascall to a King to talke,
Or see a Peasant crosse a Princes walke,
Would it not fret the heart that doth behould it,
And yet in figures may not dare vnfolde it?
But what a kinde of wretched world is this!
They that are honest, let them be so still.
Such as are settled in their course amisse,
Haue much a doe for to reforme their will.
It is the winde that driues about the Mill,
That grindes the Corne that sometimes fils the Sacke,
That laide awry may breake the Loaders backe.
What shall I say? that knowes not what to say.
This worlds vile Grammar hath a wicked speach:
Where Wealth and Will doe carry such a sway,
That many a time the Goodwife weares the breech,
And the stowte Oke must yeelde vnto the Beech.
Such vile coniunctions such constructions make,
That some are pois'ned with a Sugar Cake.
Terence his Plaies are too much in request.
The Knaue, the Foole, the Swagg'rer, and the Whore,
Thraso and Gnato, Lais and the rest
Of all the crue (that I dare say no more;
But ware the dogges that keepe the Diuels dore)
So play their parts vpon the worldly Stage,
That thieues are hangd before they come to age.
Oh, tis a word to heare a Gander keake,
And all the Geese to giue a histe to beere:
To heare an Owle to teach a Parrat speake,
While Cuckoes notes make better Musique deere;
Where nere a better singing bird is neere,
Would it not grieue a good Musitians eare,
To be enforst to stand attentiue there?
To see a Wise man handled like a Foole,
An Asse exalted like a proper man:
To see a Puddle honour'd like a Poole,
An olde blinde Goose swimme wagers with a Swan,
Or Siluer Cuppes disgraced by a Canne:
Who wold not grieue that so the world should go?
But who can helpe it, if it will be so?
No, no, alas it is in vaine for mee,
To helpe the eyes, that ioy not in the light:
Hee that is sworne that hee will neuer see,
Let him play Buzzard, with his blinded sight.
An Owle will neuer haue an Eagles flight;
Hee, that is once conceited of his Wit,
Must die of folly: ther's no helpe for it.
And yet good Fooles, that can not doe withall,
May well be borne with, for their simple Wits:
But Knauish Wits, that wicked Fooles wee call,
(Where hellish Sathan with his Angels sits,
To worke the feates of many a thousand fits)
Those foolish knaues, or knauish fooles I meane,
I would to God, the world were ridde of cleane.
And yet it is in vaine such world to wish:
There is no packe of Cardes without a Knaue:
Who loues to feede vpon a Sallet dish,
Among his Herbes some wicked weede may haue.
Some men must winne, some lose, and some must saue.
Fooles wil be Fooles, doe wise men what they can,
And many a Knaue deceiue an honest man.
A Curtall Iade will shewe his hackney trickes,
And Snarling Curres will bite a man behinde:
The Blacke Thorne Shrubbe is best knowne by his Prickes:
A Kestrell can not chuse but shewe her kinde.
Wise men sometime must wait, till Fooles haue din'd:
And yet, those Fooles, in common Wits conceite;
Are Wise, when Wisdom on their wealth doth wait.
And yet the wealthy Foole is but a Foole,
The Knaue with all his wealth is but a Knaue:
For truest VVisdome reades in Vertues schoole,
That there is no man happy till his graue.
The Hermit liues more quiet in his Caue,
Then many a King that long vsurpes a Crowne;
That in the end comes head long tūbling downe.
Yet who so base, as would not be a King?
And who so fond as thinkes not hee is VVise?
Doth not the Cuckoe thinke that shee can sing,
As clearely as the Birde of Paradise?
The fowlest Dowd' is faire in her owne eyes.
Conceipt is strong, and hath such kinde of vaine,
As workes strange wonders in a Woodcocks brain.
But, what should Fancy dwell vpon a Fable?
In some farre Contries, Women ride a-stride:
The Foole that in the kinde can vse his bable,
Shall haue Fat meate and somewhat els beside.
For Wit doth wonders vnder folly hide:
Yet in true Wisdome, all are Fooles approued,
They that loue Fooles, and Fooles that are beloued.
But since tis best that all agree in one,
The prouerbe saies, tis mery when friends meete.
It is a kinde of death to liue alone.
A louing humour is a pleasing sweete,
Let VVise men studie on the Winding sheete,
And weaker Wits this poore contentment haue,
Tis better be a Foole then be a Knaue.
And so, good friend, if so thou be, farewell:
I must not stand vpon the Foole too long;
Least that my spirits so with folly swell,
As doe perhaps my better humours wrong▪
And therefore thus in briefe I end my song;
The wisest man hath writ, that euer was,
Vanitas vanitatum, & omnia vanitas.
Vanitie all, all is but vanitie,
Nothing on earth but that will haue an end:
Where hee that trustes to bare Humanitie,
Shall hardly liue to finde in Heauen a friend.
Take heede therefore the Highest to offend:
Either learne Wit, where truest Wisdome lies,
Or take my word, thou neuer wilt be Wise.
And therefore let the wise not be displeas'd,
If they be counted Fonde as well as other:
For, tis a plague, that hath the world diseas'd,
Sinch sinne became vnhappie Natures Mother:
And let me say but this, my gentle brother;
Since all is vaine, that liues vnder the Sunne,
Good wise man be are with Fooles, and I haue done.

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