The Praise of Folly

Despite the poor reputation that folly has among humans, the speaker, Folly, confidently asserts her ability to bring joy to gods and mortals. Just as the land flushes when the sun rises, her audience has flushed with joy at the mere sight of her; she accomplishes in an instant with her looks what other orators barely accomplish with a speech. Folly then announces she will be acting as a rhetorician, but not in the style of a scholar or a woman. Instead, she will be emulating a Sophist and giving a eulogy on herself, Folly.

Folly defends her decision to eulogize herself. First, she claims that if eulogizing herself is foolish, then it is fitting for Folly herself to be doing it. After all, who knows Folly better than Folly herself? Second, self-eulogizing is better than hiring a speaker to do so. Such speakers are sycophants, and their praises are overblown and fictional. Third, Folly defends her choice to eulogize herself by claiming that she is only doing so because no one else will; though humans benefit from her existence, they are negligent and ungrateful and fail to recognize it. Folly then gives preface to her eulogy, claiming it to be impromptu and undemanding, and more authentic because of it.

Folly explains that she is no ordinary orator and will not simply provide a definition of herself or divide herself into components. She believes that neither would properly account for her and asks what the point would be anyway, since she is here in the flesh; her face says everything about her that one needs to know. She then criticizes rhetoricians and their tendency toward extravagance in oration. She mocks their superficial attempts to seem more learned, like using Greek or throwing obsolete words into their speech. 

Folly asks what her epithet should be, and then she supplies it: she is the “most foolish.” She walks through her genealogy, claiming Pluto as her father and praising him as one of the most important gods. She then identifies her mother as Youth, a joyful nymph who attracted Pluto when he was young and virile.  Folly claims her birthplace as the Fortunate Isles, a place she proudly identifies as being without sickness or old age. Moreover, she did not cry when she was born; instead, she laughed, nursed by Drunkenness and Ignorance. Folly then walks through her various followers who help her maintain her rule.

Folly claims her godly status is not without reason: she has given many advantages to both gods and mortals. In fact, her contributions have been so great that Folly wonders rhetorically why she is not the most important god of them all. She argues that it is not Jove or Plutus or Pallas to whom humans owe life, but her. Even gods need foolishness if they wish to become fathers, as do scholars and stoics. Furthermore, it is the “silly” parts of humans that reproduce, not the head or the arm or face, and Folly is the one responsible for our “silly” parts.

Folly argues that marriage itself, for both man and woman, requires one to be foolish. For a man, it is foolish to enter marriage because it is inconvenient and restrictive. For a woman, it is foolish to enter marriage because of the pains of childbirth. As such, Folly takes credit for all human procreation, including the birth of philosophers, kings, priests, and even poets. Folly further argues that she is not only responsible for life itself, but also for the pleasures that make life worth living.

Folly walks through the various stages of life, showing how folly is responsible for everyone’s inner happiness. First, she points out that the happiest period of one’s life is childhood, and children are the most foolish of us all. She claims to be responsible for the qualities that make children and adolescents so enchanting and forgivable. Then, as they grow up, they lose their beauty and wit, suggesting that the further one is from folly the worse one becomes. Once old age, arrives, however, Folly takes over again, making the last years of one’s life not only tolerable, but enjoyable. Foolishness allows the elderly to enter what Folly calls a “second childhood.”

According to Folly, foolishness allows the old to not be distracted the concerns of youth. Thus, the old are free from the boredom one feels during youth, and they’re even free to be garrulous, a pleasure denied to the young. Folly further points out that children and the old have a mutual a love for one another, which proves that they are similar in their folly. In fact, the older one gets, the closer one gets to becoming a child again, at which point one no longer has any sense of death. Folly compares this return to innocence to the metamorphoses other gods offer humans, suggesting that her transformation is far superior. She restores people to the best time in their life, while others only turn people into trees and birds.

Folly argues that, without wisdom, there would be no such thing as old age. The wise grow old even when they’re young, she claims, whereas fools stay youthful and unmarked by time. She then quotes a folk proverb to support her statement. She mocks those who go in search of magic fountains and spells to restore their youth, claiming that she alone has that ability and that people should give her more credit for fending off old age.

Folly shifts her focus from mortals to gods, arguing that only the foolish gods are tolerable. Bacchus’s youthful glee, for instance, is only possible because of his foolishness. The same is true of Cupid, who is “trifler,” as well as Venus, who Folly claims as a relative. Folly then walks through the pantheon of gods, pointing out how each one of them is foolish: Priapus pulls pranks; Mercury plays games; Vulcan acts as a jester; Silenus dances; Polyphemus plays the lyre; Pan sings ballads, and so on. Folly cannot help but laugh at all the foolish things she causes the gods to do.

Folly turns her attention back to the mortal realm, where nothing joyous or good happens without her assistance. This is in part because, as Folly claims, Jupiter designed humans to have twice as much folly (or passion) as reason.  Furthermore, the body is given over entirely to Folly, with anger in the breast and lust in the loins – two forces that easily overpower reason. Folly concedes here, however, that men are given more reason than woman because they are meant to handle affairs. Still, Folly takes credit for suggesting that man “ally” with woman, who is stupid yet sweet and can calm the male temperament.

Folly explains that women should not be angry at her for calling them foolish. She suggests that foolish though they may be, they are better off for it than men. For one, women have beauty, which allows them to wield power over men, who are ugly by contrast. Since being attractive to men is their chief desire in life—as evidenced by all the energy they put into their looks—this is to their advantage. Furthermore, men find foolishness attractive and pleasurable and act foolishly in return to please women. 

Folly admits that some men enjoy drinking more than they enjoy women, but she claims that no drinking party is enjoyable without her. If someone is not acting foolish already and making people laugh, partygoers will hire a comedian or jester. Without these solaces, which Folly affords, life would be unhappy and not worth living. Still, Folly concedes that some people prefer friendship to drinking. Folly claims once again, however, that even friendship owes a lot to foolishness. Without folly, she argues, people wouldn’t be able to look past their friends’ vices or see those vices as virtues. Therefore, foolishness creates and sustains friendship.

Folly extends her claim about friendship to marriage, suggesting that marriage would not work if both parties were entirely rational. Folly suggests that divorce would happen far more if there were no flattery, ignorance, and self-deception to maintain a marriage. If a husband truly knew what his wife did to marry him and what she did in her own time, the marriage would not last. In his negligence and foolishness, however, he does not find out about these things, and this sustains his marriage. Folly concludes that no relationship between people can be happy or lasting without her; everyone must occasionally turn to Folly to sooth their hurt feelings or see past someone’s flaws.

Folly next claims that someone who hates themselves cannot love someone else. Without self-love, it is impossible to love others or do things that would please other. Thus, if one were to exclude Folly from life, no person would be able to get along with another. This is because Folly is necessary for people to be satisfied with themselves: only a fool can ignore the various ways in which one is inferior to someone else. Folly claims that being happy is wanting to be what you already are, and that is only something a fool can do.

Folly shifts to a new topic to argue that no great enterprise happens without her influence. War, for instance, is considered a great endeavor, yet it often results in both sides losing more than they started with. Moreover, it’s big brawny fools who are as bold as they are dumb, not scholars, who fight in wars. Even military planning is not so complex or philosophical as some make it out to be: the main players are often rogues, like bandits and assassins and bankrupts.

Folly claims that philosophers are not equipped for real life. Socrates, for instance, was not only a poor orator but also a man who had so little concern for real life that he drank hemlock. Folly continues to scoff at the incompetence of scholars, starting with Plato and ending with Quintilian. She ends by asking ironically how these philosophers would fare in a real fight if they cannot even handle a contest of words.

Folly argues that, contrary to common opinion, philosophers do not make good kings. In fact, if you look at actual history, the worst princes have always been those who were philosophers: Cato, Cicero, Cassius, Brutus, and so on. This is not only because the wise tend to be unlucky, but also because their wisdom often entails a lack of experience in ordinary life. There is such a gap between their minds and the people around them that they cannot function effectively in society, especially not as a leader in public affairs.

Folly returns to her earlier point, stating that it is not philosophical ideas or orations, but rather foolish stories and ideas that bring people power. Case in point, no city has ever run on the ideas of Socrates or Plato, yet people have done many a great deed under the influence of a Siren. As such, Folly argues that nothing is more foolish than for a leader to flatter fools and make a spectacle of themselves, and yet that is what gives rise cities, empires, religion, policies, and all areas of human life.

Moving on to art briefly, Folly argues that only folly could make people believe that sleepless nights could buy fame, and it is for fame that people make art. Thus, art exists because of Folly. Folly then boldly lays claim to prudence, arguing that, if prudence is a product of experience, then wise people who avoid action will never be able to gain as much experience as fools who boldly embrace it. While a wise person shuts themselves away, avoiding the risk of shame and fear, the fool is free from such constraints. As such, the fool can gain prudence through worldly experience that the wise person cannot.

Folly argues that even the prudence of insight owes much to folly, claiming that all human affairs have two aspects that often reverse upon inspection—for instance, what is death becomes life, what is beautiful become ugly, and what is friendly become an enemy. Folly then claims that stripping the masks from actors would ruin a play, and life is no different; life is an affair of shadows, and one cannot take away those shadows without ruining life. 

Folly then asks the reader to imagine a wise person who drops from the sky and demands that you question everything you know. Folly suggests that readers would think such a person insane, as wisdom out of place is foolish. Similarly, Folly argues that too much prudence out of place is imprudent; a truly prudent person would try to fit in with the crowd and let themselves be deceived instead of trying to question the status quo.

Folly next endeavors to prove that one never attains wisdom without folly. This is because all emotions belong to folly, and it is passion that guides people toward wisdom and well doing. Though the stoics deny this and try to be as emotionless as possible, what they are really doing is making a person into a marble block. Folly suggests that while such a person may be perfectly wise—never making a mistake, forgiving nothing, being only satisfied with himself—such a man is hardly a human at all. Furthermore, no one would ever want to engage with such a man, either in an army, a marriage, or as a guest. Almost everyone, Folly claims, would prefer a fool—someone who does not find human affairs (like emotions) strange.

Folly claims that any person with perspective on life would see how painful and cruel it is. Death is inevitable, disease abounds, and trouble waits behind every door. In fact, life is so unbearable that many great, wise people have taken their lives, like Chiron, Cato, and Brutus. As such, Folly suggests that, without folly, people would likely kill themselves. But folly frees people from the concerns of life, allowing them to go on enjoying life into old age, finding amusement and satisfaction. Accordingly, Folly asks her readers to question whether it is really better to “find a rafter” than to live a life of delusional happiness. Folly takes the side of delusion, arguing that since fools feel no shame or disgrace, there is not even that to be worried about. A fool can always applaud themselves.

Folly takes issue with philosophers’ stance that true unhappiness is based in folly. Instead, Folly suggests that no one can be considered unhappy if they are true to their own nature; for instance, one cannot call a person unhappy because they cannot fly with the birds or run like a beast. Folly further contests the idea that science compensates for people’s lack of natural gifts, arguing that science has a negative impact on human life. She points out that the Golden Age flourished without sciences, with nature and instinct—not science—guiding people. In those times, there was no need for grammar because everyone spoke the same language, nor any need for law because people had not yet learned evil.

Continuing her argument, Folly states that society holds the disciplines closest to folly in the highest regard. Whereas people mock theologians, naturalists, and astrologers, they hold doctors and lawyers in high esteem. Both of these jobs, Folly points out, use flattery and folly to move forward. Further, Folly claims that, just as the most foolish disciplines are the most successful, so too are the people who stay away from wisdom and learned disciplines. Nature does not like fakery, and so those who stay away from art, which is artificial, fare better because of it.  

According to Folly, the happiest creatures are those which are the most in tune with nature. Take bees, for instance: they don’t have the senses a human has, but they build the most spectacular architectural beehives. The horse, meanwhile, shares much with humans and thus suffers alongside us. As such, Folly reaffirms that what nature creates is better than what art creates, and nature is happier because of it. What makes people so unhappy, then, is that they try to be more than they are. Citing Homer, Folly points to Ulysses as a prime example of this: Ulysses is so miserable because his wisdom and resourcefulness led him away from nature.

Folly next argues that fools are the happiest of all people. Unlike the wise, they do not fear death nor any other evil and are free from the cares and struggles that plague ordinary people. Because of this, they are always happy and bring laughter and joy to those around them. Thus, even in a world full of struggle, everyone treats fools with kindness and compassion. Fools are free to do and act as they wish, and no one will hurt them or wish them ill will. In fact, they are so beloved that gods consider them sacred, and kings want to be constantly surrounded by them.

Folly argues that fools are also truthful, which cannot always be said of the wise. Whereas wise people might say one thing and mean another, a fool will always say exactly what is on their mind. Moreover, while princes and kings often shun counselors in fear of hearing unpleasant truths, they will still listen to a fool, even if a fool is criticizing them. Folly points out that women like fools for very much the same reason. Thus, fools are blessed with an ability not granted to ordinary mortals.

Given that fools are given immediate access to the Elysian Fields after death, Folly questions how the fate of the fool compares to that of the wise person who is given no such assurance. Instead, the wise person wastes the best part of his life—youth—locked away from the world studying. They do not partake in any worldly pleasures but instead lives an austere and stoic life that prematurely ages them. As such, Folly argues that the wise person never really lives a day of life.

Folly criticizes the stoic idea that madness—or folly—entails sadness. First, madness comes in two types, the first being the sort of madness that causes people to go to war or thirst for wealth and blood, and the second being the kind of madness that comes from foolishness. This is the madness that frees people from the cares of the world, or rather, makes them lose their senses. According to Folly, people should desire this second type of madness, as it often gives pleasure to those whom it seizes.

Folly reiterates the merits of her type of madness, claiming that the more a person is a deluded, the happier they will be. She then claims that such madness is so widespread that it would be impossible to find someone who is never mad at all, suggesting that people are only considered mad because so few people agree with them. If enough people share a similar type of delusion, like believing one’s wife is beautiful, they are less likely to call it a delusion, even though that’s exactly what it is.

Folly then lists the types of people who fall into this category of madness. First, she identifies people who revel in the hunting of wild game. She mockingly wonders whether, to them, the smell of blood is like cinnamon, and she imagines that they think of themselves as kings when they are really lowering themselves to the level of beasts. Folly then moves on to mock builders, who she claims build themselves into poverty and homelessness. Next, she names Alchemists, who foolishly spend their life trying to change one thing into another. When they fail, they complain that life is too short for the immensity of their enterprise.

Folly is uncertain whether gamblers are fully mad, yet she admits how foolishly they get excited at the mere shaking of the dice. She then moves on to people who enjoy hearing and telling tall tales. The less true the stories are, she claims, the more these people enjoy them. She includes priests and pardoners among these people. Next, Folly mocks superstitious people, listing several wild superstitions such people live their lives by. After that, she mocks people who believe that forged pardons can recuse them from their sins, as well as those who rely on prayers and charms to bring them what they want, be it wealth, fame, or power.

Here, Folly attacks the soldiers or merchants who think they can erase their various sins by small acts of charity. They think they can erase their sins with money, like those who think that saying the seven verses of Psalms will absolve them of their sins. Folly thinks such notions are so foolish she is almost ashamed of them. Still, almost everyone believes such notions—even entire countries. Sometimes they will even claim saints for themselves and assign them arbitrary powers.

Folly suggests that everything men asks of Saints are related to Folly, yet still she gets no appreciation of thanks. She lists a series of fates people have luckily avoided, all of which are related to foolishness but which have not been attributed to her. She claims that people want to be saved from anything but Folly. Folly then claims that Christianity is full of such fanaticisms, and priests endorse them because doing so earns them money. Finally, she mocks those who prepare their own funerals as though, when dead, such a spectacle will somehow be meaningful to them.

Folly chooses as her next target those who think they are important because they have some empty title. They trace their family back to important figures and feel important because of it. Equally as foolish are those who buy into such genealogy and worship the holders of empty titles as though they were gods. From here, Folly moves on to mock those who take credit for their family’s talents, acting as though they themselves possessed them.

Folly argues that, since artists are inherently egotistical, the less talent they have, the more self-satisfied they tend to be. As a result, they promote themselves to the masses, who, foolishly appreciating bad art, flock to their work. In such a world, Folly wonders what the point of refining a skill is, since the better you are, the less people will appreciate it. Thus, developing a skill is not only hard work, but hard work which will go largely unrewarded.

Folly extends her argument of foolish self-love to entire cities and countries. She lists a series of nations and peoples—the English, the French, the Scots, for example—and proceeds to list the various qualities that such people flatter themselves as sharing.

Reflecting now on the power of flattery, Folly once more returns to the notion that the flattery of folly helps to alleviate human suffering. Furthermore, because folly makes humanity satisfied with itself, it also brings happiness. In conclusion, she states that folly is the “honey and spice” of human relations.

Folly disagrees with the idea that it is sad to be deceived. Rather, she believes the opposite to be true, arguing that happiness is a product of opinion, which is inherently deceptive and varied. Just as people are bored by sermons devoid of confusing metaphors or ideas, so too are people bored by a life without deception. Moreover, there is a small price for opinions and deceptions, whereas the “solid” things in life often have serious consequences. Folly uses as an example the man who believes his ugly wife to be beautiful. To Folly, there is no cost to such a deception or opinion, as it makes the man happy even though he is wrong.

Folly proceeds to argue that there is no difference between those in Plato’s cave who admire the shadows and the wise person who escapes the cave to see reality. If there is a difference, Folly believes that the fate of the fools would be better, as their happiness costs almost nothing, just a small amount of deception. Furthermore, unlike the wise person, they are in the company of others, and owning a good thing means nothing if you have no one good to share it with.

Folly argues that the relief she offers is superior to that of Bacchus and other gods. While drunkenness only lasts a short period of time, for instance, the drunkenness of folly is never-ending. Furthermore, while other deities only bless certain mortals, Folly embraces everyone, even if they fail to pray to her or overlook her ceremonies. Unlike some gods who are so hard to get along with that it’s almost not worth it, Folly is easy to please. Even though she is surprised at how ungrateful humans are to her, she does not complain. She knows that she is the only god that humans worship most, as they constantly manifest her in their words and deeds.

Folly claims not to need a temple either, as the world is her temple, and she thinks it is a good one. By the same token, she does not require communion or idol worship, as both distract from true worship anyway. She considers every mortal fool to be a statue of her, and thus, for this and the other reasons, she has no reason to envy the other gods.

Folly claims that human foolishness provides constant entertainment for gods. Describing a long list of foolish things that humans do, Folly concludes that the merchants are the most foolish of them all. This is because, despite their “sordid” activities, they try to make themselves seem important by dressing expensively. Folly then describes the various ways in which merchants can be fools, such as passing for wealthy but really being poor, or being wealthy only in their aspirations. Folly concludes by stating that from above, humans look like a bunch of quarrelling bugs who, despite their size, sometimes create large commotions.

Folly thinks it would be foolish to continue discussing the madness of common people and turns instead to the educated. She names grammarians first among the educated fools who, despite the depravity of their profession and livelihood, see themselves as “first among men.” She further mocks them, claiming that they are especially happy now in their illusion of being educated, especially when they can find some obscure inscription from an old manuscript. Furthermore, Folly finds it funny how one moment they will be praising one another and the next ripping one another apart for making minor mistakes. Folly concludes by stating they must be great fools to be so happy living such wretched lives.

Though Folly admits the poets are less foolish than others, she believes they are in her camp, as their objective is to use words to entertain the minds and ears of fools. Folly also claims rhetoricians for her party, given that they have written so much about joking; they admit that folly can be surprisingly useful as a defense against arguments, and thus the are naturally on her side. She includes writers and scholars in the same camp, as their commitment to writing books for no one is an obvious act of foolishness; it takes them forever, and they hardly get anything for it.

Folly claims that her own author, Erasmus, is also foolish, but in a happier way than other scholars. He writes about trivial things in an unlabored way, and thus his writing is popular. Wiser writers, Folly claims, are those who take credit for other writers’ work. Even if they are caught, they get to enjoy a moment of celebrity for having written a great work. Folly finds it even more charming when writers compliment or attack each other in their writing in such a way as to divide the public while also increasing the reputation of both. Wise people think such behavior is foolish, and Folly agrees, though favorably.

Though lawyers consider their profession to be the most learned, Folly argues that they are also the most foolish and self-satisfied. No matter the case, lawyers try to make their work seem as difficult as possible. The same is true of logicians and sophists who, armed with self-love, are happy to debate anyone they meet on any subject. Folly claims the scientists also fall in this league of self-loving fools. They spend all their time conjecturing about nature only to be thwarted time and time again and left squabbling amongst themselves. They know nothing general about the world, and though they claim to know specific things, they often know nothing of themselves or of the things right in front of them.

Folly considers ignoring theologians because she knows they will attack with countless arguments and call her a heretic. Nevertheless, Folly calls them out for being so self-satisfied and acting as though they were already in heaven. Moreover, she criticizes them for hiding behind all the overly complicated scholarly arguments and propositions of theology, investing time and energy in pointless questions, such as how long Christ was in the womb. Folly then proceeds to mockingly list a series of more “legitimate” theological questions, concluding ironically than even the apostles would need the help of some spirits (alcohol) if they wanted to discuss these questions with modern theologians.

Folly continues her line of thought, suggesting more seriously that the original apostles would not have had the answers to the questions asked by contemporary theologians. Folly believes they would have been too busy baptizing and spreading the word of the bible to be concerned with such things, nor would they have been influenced by the thinking of Aristotle and the Scotists. Folly further mocks the way in which they have failed to define simple things such as a grace, good works, charity, and sin.

Folly questions whether Saint Paul would have condemned questions and disputes the way contemporary theologians do. Moreover, Folly points out the irony of accepting everything the apostles says as perfectly true, even obvious mistakes, while criticizing the most minor of errors by later theologians like Jerome. Folly concludes that Christians would be wiser if they sent their theologians to battle instead of their soldiers.

Folly continues her attack, criticizing those who take issue with the sort of slander that Folly is herself engaging in. She calls them out for puttering about in academia, reshaping the bible endlessly while imagining that they are responsible for the maintenance of the church. Ironically, Folly thanks them for ensuring that no stones are unturned in biblical scholarship.

Folly further criticizes theologians for pretending to know exactly how heaven and hell are constructed, drawing diagrams of them as if they have been there. She thinks they have inflated egos and mocks them for making boring, prolonged speeches and demanding that they be called “Our Masters.” Folly then moves on to monks, attacking them for believing themselves to be important and pious despite their obvious depravity. She mocks them for the fact that, though they are dirty, ignorant, rude, and poor, they consider themselves to be living the lives of apostles. 

Folly continues to criticize the monks, mocking the ironic contrast between the overly specific rules under which they live their lives and the inconsistency between the standards of different orders. On top of this, Folly derides monks for having a holier-than-thou attitude. They boast so much about their acts of piety that it almost seems as though they believe heaven not to be good enough for them. Folly gleefully imagines Christ coming down and telling monks that they are too boastful about their good works. Still, with the help of foolishness, they persist in being hopeful. 

 Folly decries the fact that no one scorns these people because they know everyone’s secrets from confession. People would criticize them were they not afraid of them spilling their secrets drunkenly or during a sermon. Folly then proceeds to mock the boring, rhetorical way in which monks give sermons, deconstructing their formula. According to Folly, they start with invocation, and then proceed to offer a roundabout metaphor for their topic. Folly then gives two examples, one about a man who explained the Holy Trinity from the standpoint of grammar, and another about a man who gave a sermon about how the letters of Jesus’s name revealed everything about him. Folly mocks them, arguing that such scholars only consider their preamble worthwhile if it has nothing to do with the rest of their sermon.

Folly explains that the third part of the formula of religious orators is explaining a part of the bible but rushing through it. Then, they dramatically speak about some theological question about divinity, touting their theological skills for their audience. Lastly, they bring in a popular story and interpret it. Folly then mocks the dynamics of their speaking, tracking the way they systematically go from speaking softly to yelling over the course of their sermon. They also attempt to make their audiences laugh as a rhetorician might yet fail terribly at it. Folly concludes by suggesting how much they owe her, foolishly believing themselves to be talented orators when they are not.

Folly shifts her focus to kings and princes. She argues that, were they to fully grasp the extent of their responsibilities and endeavored to handle them with integrity, they would not be able to sleep or eat. With Folly’s help, however, these princes and kings can relegate their responsibilities to the gods and their subordinates and focus on themselves instead. In place of governing the realm, then, they tell themselves that hunting, accruing wealth, and acquiring fancy clothes and possessions are all in the best interest of the realm. Folly believes if a prince saw the true extent of his hypocrisy, however, he would have the grace to be ashamed out of fear that he might be made a satire out of.

Folly turns next to the novel courtiers, whom she considers the worst of the bunch. They walk around in gems and symbols that signal virtue and wisdom, and yet they leave all the actual work for others to do; they believe that their garments are signs of their importance, when really, they are just a display of wealth. Folly makes the same case for popes, cardinals, and bishops, suggesting that they act as though they were princes and kings. Folly argues that, were a bishop to consider the meaning of his garments and the weight of his responsibility, he would live a troubled life. He does not, however, and live selfishly instead, relegating responsibility to their underlings.

Folly argues that the same is true for the cardinals, and that if they truly followed the apostles, they would give up their ambitions and live a difficult life of spirituality. Folly generalizes her argument, stating that were the leaders of the church to realize the true meaning of their positions, they would immediately replace all their wealth, power, and possessions with tears, prayers, vigils and fasts. She then parodies the mindset of the church leaders, ironically suggesting that working miracles is old fashioned and that to “die on a cross” would be a disgrace.

Folly continues her critique of church leaders, stating that the only Christian tools the popes do employ are those which allow them to consolidate their power. For instance, they excommunicate people and venomously wage war against their enemies, all in the name of Christ. Folly mocks the fact that, despite war making men into beasts and going against the teachings of Christ, the popes have committed themselves to it as their only endeavor. From Folly’s standpoint, church leaders have become little more than military leaders who see their sole responsibility as war. 

Folly points out how clever priests are to use ancient texts to get more money from their people rather than serving them, as is their Christian duty. Folly argues that they are only interested in profit, and, like their leaders, they pass responsibility off to others while also trying to reap as much profit as possible from the institution of Christianity. At this point, Folly expresses her concern that she is writing a satire, not a eulogy, and returns to her point that no one can live happily unless they are in Folly’s favor.

Folly returns to her main claim, arguing that fools tend to do better than wise men because fortune favors those who are more willing to take risks and act rashly. She repeats many of her earlier arguments, showing how a fool is more likely to succeed with women, as a merchant, in becoming a member of the church, and with making friends. Folly concludes by stating that the wise dislike cash, and the world is run “cash in hand.”

Folly announces that she will end her oration by citing great authors who have written about her. She begins by stating some famous sayings about how simulating folly can the height of wisdom, and then proceeds to cite Epicurus and Homer on foolishness. She then prefaces that, while Christians may consider some of these writers bad, she will also use the bible in her citations. She only hopes that readers won’t suspect her of theft, as she has so much theological material to use in support of her position.

Folly starts by quoting Ecclesiastes, citing several different moments in which the bible points to the foolishness of humankind. She continues to quote the bible, quoting several lines from Solomon, and then several more passages from Ecclesiastes. All of it has to do with showing that all people are fools, even kings like King Solomon. Folly then quotes Saint Paul from Corinthians when he claims to be a fool, after which she goes on a tangent about the issues in Greek translation in relation to the quote. Folly debates the issue, then she decides to leave it for scholars to fight about. Her final interpretation on the quote is one that claims that Paul really meant it would be foolish to consider himself superior to the other apostles.

Folly questions why she is defending herself with only one example, as if it's not common for religious authorities to interpret scripture selectively. She then questions the practice of defending oneself with a single example, suggesting that religious leaders often manipulate scripture to suit their purposes. She argues that followers of prophets do the same and offers as an example a theologian who interprets Jesus’s words about swords and provisions as a call for defense, ignoring Christ’s teachings of meekness and non-resistance. The theologian's interpretation contradicts the message of relying on spiritual weapons and disregarding earthly attachments.

Folly recalls another instance of a theological leader being selective in their readings and translations of the bible. In this instance, an old theologian defended the burning of heretics by citing a passage from Saint Paul concerning not allowing “witches”—which Paul translated as “heretics”—to live. Many theologians found this argument convincing, but Folly points out that the translation was entirely wrong, therefore making the theologian’s point faulty. Folly then calls herself foolish for telling these stories, but she asks that her readers afford her the same generosity they would afford to theological masters (who are often wrong).

Folly returns to quoting Saint Paul, highlighting several passages that seem to celebrate quality as not only a virtue, but a Christian virtue. Folly then asks, rhetorically, why she is quoting these people when Christ himself spoke of folly. Using her quotes, she suggests that fools are pleasing to God and Christ. She adds to this evidence the fact that God seems to love children, women, and fisherman, who are known to be fools, as well as the fact that Jesus chose to ride on a donkey. Folly also points to the sheep, a foolish animal, as the animal which Christ chose himself. 

Folly argues that all this is proof that mortals are not only fools, but that Christ himself was willing to become a fool when he became a man. Moreover, God forbode Adam and Eve from eating from the tree of knowledge, knowing that knowledge is the antithesis to happiness. As such, Folly suggests that the heavenly powers favor and forgive folly, whereas they regard wisdom unfavorably. Folly then proceeds to reference many examples from the Bible where various people cited their foolishness as a reason to be forgiven by God, and they were.

Folly concludes that Christianity has a “kinship” with Folly, which it does not have with wisdom. As more evidence, she points to the special relationship that children, the old, women, and fools have with religion, as well as the various pious fools who have given up everything in their lives in the name of piety as though they were mad.  Folly then announces her intention to show that Christian happiness is a product of folly. She begins by citing the similarity between Christian beliefs and Plato’s notion of the soul being shackled to the body. She suggests that, as religious people are less interested in the body, their soul and body will necessarily be at odds with each other.

Folly compares the common people to those trapped in Plato’s cave, fascinated by mere shadows, while the wise person who sees reality is ridiculed. The common people value material things and neglect the soul, dismissing what they cannot see. By contrast, the pious prioritize God and the soul, disregarding bodily pleasures and material wealth. Folly concludes by arguing that the difference in opinions arises from the religious pursuit of the eternal and spiritual, which common people perceive as madness.

Citing Plato, Folly connects this kind of madness to ecstatic love, because being taken out of oneself—which is what the disconnect between soul and body does—produces happiness. Folly suggests that this happiness is only a taste of the reward to come in the afterlife when the spirit transcends the body and merges with the mind of God.

Folly concludes by stating that she has forgotten herself and said too much. She reminds her readers that if they’re offended, they shouldn’t take anything she’s said too seriously—she is Folly, after all. Folly then neglects to make an epilogue, claiming to be too forgetful to do any such thing, given the length of her eulogy. On that note, Folly says goodbye, bidding her readers to applaud, live, and drink.