¶ Of the Ryche Man That Wolde Not Haue a Glyster. LXXXI
¶ There was a certayn riche man on a tyme, whiche felle sycke, to the whose curynge came many phisitians (for flyes by heapes flee to honye). Amonge them all there was one that sayde, that he muste nedes take a glyster, if he wolde be holle. Whan the sicke man, that was nat envred with that medicine, harde hym saye so, he sayde in a great furye: out a dores with those phisitians! they be madde: for, where as my payne is in my heed, they wolde heale me in myne * * * *.
This fable sheweth that holsom thynges to them, that lacke knowlege and experyence, seme hurtfull.