In Praise of Folly

proverb of the Greeks, “An ape is an ape, though clad in scarlet;” so a woman is a woman still, that

is to say foolish, let her put on whatever vizard she please.

But, by the way, I hope that sex is not so foolish as to take offense at this, that I myself, being a

woman, and Folly too, have attributed folly to them. For if they weigh it tight, they needs must

acknowledge that they owe it to folly that they are more fortunate than men. As first their beauty,

which, and that not without cause, they prefer before everything, since by its means they exercise

a tyranny even upon tyrants themselves; otherwise, whence proceeds that sour look, rough skin,

bushy beard, and such other things as speak plain old age in a man, but from that disease of wisdom?

Whereas women’s cheeks are ever plump and smooth, their voice small, their skin soft, as if they

imitated a certain kind of perpetual youth. Again, what greater thing do they wish in their whole

lives than that they may please the man? For to what other purpose are all those dresses, washes,

baths, slops, perfumes, and those several little tricks of setting their faces, painting their eyebrows,

and smoothing their skins? And now tell me, what higher letters of recommendation have they to

men than this folly? For what is it they do not permit them to do? And to what other purpose than

that of pleasure? Wherein yet their folly is not the least thing that pleases; which so true it is, I think

no one will deny, that does but consider with himself, what foolish discourse and odd gambols pass

between a man and his woman, as often as he had a mind to be gamesome? And so I have shown

you whence the first and chiefest delight of man’s life springs.

But there are some, you’ll say, and those too none of the youngest, that have a greater kindness for

the pot than the petticoat and place their chiefest pleasure in good fellowship. If there can be any

great entertainment without a woman at it, let others look to it. This I am sure, there was never any

pleasant which folly gave not the relish to. Insomuch that if they find no occasion of laughter, they

send for “one that may make it,” or hire some buffoon flatterer, whose ridiculous discourse may

put by the gravity of the company. For to what purpose were it to clog our stomachs with dainties,

junkets, and the like stuff, unless our eyes and ears, nay whole mind, were likewise entertained

with jests, merriments, and laughter? But of these kind of second courses I am the only cook; though

yet those ordinary practices of our feasts, as choosing a king, throwing dice, drinking healths,

trolling it round, dancing the cushion, and the like, were not invented by the seven wise men but

myself, and that too for the common pleasure of mankind. The nature of all which things is such

that the more of folly they have, the more they conduce to human life, which, if it were unpleasant,

did not deserve the name of life; and other than such it could not well be, did not these kind of

diversions wipe away tediousness, next cousin to the other.

But perhaps there are some that neglect this way of pleasure and rest satisfied in the enjoyment of

their friends, calling friendship the most desirable of all things, more necessary than either air, fire,

or water; so delectable that he that shall take it out of the world had as good put out the sun; and,

lastly, so commendable, if yet that make anything to the matter, that neither the philosophers

themselves doubted to reckon it among their chiefest good. But what if I show you that I am both

the beginning and end of this so great good also? Nor shall I go about to prove it by fallacies, sorites,

dilemmas, or other the like subtleties of logicians, but after my blunt way point out the thing as

clearly as it were with my finger.

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Desiderius Erasmus

In Praise of Folly

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And now tell me if to wink, slip over, be blind at, or deceived in the vices of our friends, nay, to

admire and esteem them for virtues, be not at least the next degree to folly? What is it when one

kisses his mistress’ freckle neck, another the watt on her nose? When a father shall swear his

squint-eyed child is more lovely than Venus? What is this, I say, but mere folly? And so, perhaps

you’ll cry it is; and yet ’tis this only that joins friends together and continues them so joined. I speak

of ordinary men, of whom none are born without their imperfections, and happy is he that is pressed

with the least: for among wise princes there is either no friendship at all, or if there be, ’tis unpleasant

and reserved, and that too but among a very few ’twere a crime to say none. For that the greatest

part of mankind are fools, nay there is not anyone that dotes not in many things; and friendship,

you know, is seldom made but among equals. And yet if it should so happen that there were a

mutual good will between them, it is in no wise firm nor very long lived; that is to say, among such

as are morose and more circumspect than needs, as being eagle-sighted into his friends’ faults, but

so blear-eyed to their own that they take not the least notice of the wallet that hangs behind their

own shoulders. Since then the nature of man is such that there is scarce anyone to be found that is

not subject to many errors, add to this the great diversity of minds and studies, so many slips,

oversights, and chances of human life, and how is it possible there should be any true friendship

between those Argus, so much as one hour, were it not for that which the Greeks excellently call

euetheian? And you may render by folly or good nature, choose you whether. But what? Is not the

author and parent of all our love, Cupid, as blind as a beetle? And as with him all colors agree, so

from him is it that everyone likes his own sweeterkin best, though never so ugly, and “that an old

man dotes on his old wife, and a boy on his girl.” These things are not only done everywhere but

laughed at too; yet as ridiculous as they are, they make society pleasant, and, as it were, glue it

together.

And what has been said of friendship may more reasonably be presumed of matrimony, which in

truth is no other than an inseparable conjunction of life. Good God! What divorces, or what not

worse than that, would daily happen were not the converse between a man and his wife supported

and cherished by flattery, apishness, gentleness, ignorance, dissembling, certain retainers of mine

also! Whoop holiday! how few marriages should we have, if the husband should but thoroughly

examine how many tricks his pretty little mop of modesty has played before she was married! And

how fewer of them would hold together, did not most of the wife’s actions escape the husband’s

knowledge through his neglect or sottishness! And for this also you are beholden to me, by whose

means it is that the husband is pleasant to his wife, the wife to her husband, and the house kept in

quiet. A man is laughed at, when seeing his wife weeping he licks up her tears. But how much

happier is it to be thus deceived than by being troubled with jealousy not only to torment himself

but set all things in a hubbub! In fine, I am so necessary to the making of all society and manner

of life both delightful and lasting, that neither would the people long endure their governors, nor

the servant his master, nor the master his footman, nor the scholar his tutor, nor one friend another,

nor the wife her husband, nor the usurer the borrower, nor a soldier his commander, nor one

companion another, unless all of them had their interchangeable failings, one while flattering, other

while prudently conniving, and generally sweetening one another with some small relish of folly.

And now you’d think I had said all, but you shall hear yet greater things. Will he, I pray, love

anyone that hates himself? Or ever agree with another who is not at peace with himself? Or beget

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Desiderius Erasmus

In Praise of Folly

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