As often as I cosydre, these olde noble clerkes
Poetis, Oratours, & Phylosophers sectes thre,
Howe wanderfull they were, in all theyr werkes
Howe eloquent, howe inuentyue in euery degre
Halfe amased I am, and as a deed tre
Stonde styll, ouer rude for to brynge forth
Any fruyte or sentence, that is ought worth.
Neuertheles though rude I be, in all cotryuyng
Of matt's, yet sowhat to make, I nede not to care
I se many a one occupyed, in the same thynge
Lo vnlerned men nowe a dayes, wyll not spare
To wryte, to bable, theyr myndes to declare
Trowynge themselfe, gay fantasyes to drawe
When all theyr cunnynge is not worth a strawe.
Some i french Cronycles, gladly doth presume
Some in Englysshe, blyndly wade and wandre
Another in laten bloweth forth a darke fame
As wyse as a great hedded Asse of Alexandre
Some in Phylosophye, lyke a gagelynge gandre
Bigynneth lustely the browes to set vp
And at the last concludeth, in the good ale cup.