Folly emphasizes irony in her satirical characterization of the teachings of a prominent (though unnamed) Catholic theologian. Noting several of his errors and misinterpretations, Folly states:
On top of this our theologue, you recall, intends that by the word “sword” is embraced whatever is necessary for repelling violence [...] And so this interpreter of the divine mind leads forth the apostles equipped with lances, crossbows, slings, and muskets, for the task of preaching Christ crucified. [...] Nor has it disturbed this interpreter [...] that no one has ever heard it told that the apostles used swords or shields against the violence of the heathen, though they would have used them if Christ had meant what the interpreter finds here.
In the introduction, More promised that he would not name any of the targets of his satire in this essay, and he keeps that promise here. Instead, Folly addresses her target only as “our theologue.” This unnamed theologian, Folly claims, has mistranslated and misinterpreted important sections of the Bible in order to defend the Church’s tendency to wage violent war upon its perceived enemies.
As a result, the theologian presents what Folly believes to be an incorrect picture of true Christian faith, imagining “apostles equipped with lances, crossbows, slings,” and other weapons “for preaching Christ crucified.” Folly’s language here emphasizes the irony of this error; Christ’s weapon-bearing apostles, in this interpretation of Christianity, seem better prepared to crucify Christ than to serve him. Here, Folly comes very close to expressing ideas that Erasmus articulates elsewhere under his own name.
After satirizing various human professions, Folly directs her satirical gaze upon the Catholic Church. Drawing pointed allusions to various Christian saints alongside figures from classical mythology, Folly states:
And next to these come the folk who have arrived at the foolish but gratifying belief that if they gaze on a picture of Polyphemus-Christopher they will not die that day, or that whoever salutes in certain prescribed words an image of Barbara will come through a battle unharmed, or that by making application to Erasmus on certain days, using a certain kind of candles and certain prayers, one will shortly become rich. Indeed, they have discovered another Hercules, and even another Hippolytus, in George.
Though Erasmus remained a Catholic his entire life, refusing to ally himself with Protestant reformers such as Martin Luther, he often criticized the Catholic Church for its supposed excesses, including acceptance of beliefs and traditions which Erasmus regarded as superstitious. Here, Folly satirizes those “who have arrived at the foolish but gratifying belief” that they can gain good fortune and security by worshiping images of the Christian saints.
By alluding to both Christian saints and figures from classical mythology, Folly suggests that these religious practices are not truly Christian. For example, she claims that some Catholics have “discovered another Hercules [...] in George.” Here, she alludes both to Hercules, the strong hero from mythology, and to St. George, the patron saint of England. Her allusions, then, imply that some individuals are worshiping St. George incorrectly, not as a venerated Christian martyr, but rather as a mighty hero, in the manner of Ancient Roman religious belief.
Throughout her speech, Folly reserves some of her harshest satire for the philosophers, who, in seeking wisdom, are the natural enemies of folly. In a surprising paradox, she identifies the Ancient Greek philosopher Socrates as the least foolish of the philosophers because he recognized his own foolishness. Folly states:
How ineffective these philosophers are for the work of real life, the one and only Socrates himself [...] will serve for proof. When he tried to urge something, I know not what, in public, he hastily withdrew to the accompaniment of loud laughter from all quarters. Yet Socrates was not altogether foolish in this one respect, that he repudiated the epithet “wise,” and gave it over to God; he also cherished the opinion that a wise man should abstain from meddling in the public business of the commonwealth [...] And then, what but his wisdom drove him, once he had been impeached, to drink the hemlock?
Folly chastises the philosophers for being “ineffective” when it comes time to complete “the work of real life,” suggesting that they are impractical and concern themselves only with useless philosophical questions. She considers Socrates first, arguing that his speeches were met with “loud laughter” from the public. However, Folly does acknowledge that, paradoxically, Socrates was “not altogether foolish,” because he accepted that he was foolish. Socrates, she claims, “repudiated the epithet ‘wise,’” refusing to be honored as a great thinker. Here, she references Socrates’ skepticism of human wisdom as a trait that, paradoxically, made him truly wise.
Folly satirizes various subjects throughout the course of the essay, but she saves particular ire for the philosophers, whom she deems “foolosophers” for their absurd behavior. Addressing the failure of the philosophers to properly praise her, Folly states:
Although they are wholly of my party, in public they are so ashamed of my name that they toss it up at others as a great reproach! [...] It has seemed well, you note, to imitate the rhetoricians of our time, who believe themselves absolutely to be gods if they can show themselves bilingual [...] and account it a famous feat if they can weave a few Greekish words [...] even if at the moment there is no place for them. Then if they want exotic touches, they dig four or five obsolete words out of decaying manuscripts, by which they spread darkness over the reader.
Here, Folly delivers an extensive satire of the philosophers, whom she claims are “of her party,” meaning that they are foolish and therefore her followers. Despite this apparent alliance, they spurn her, refusing to acknowledge themselves as fools. She satirizes them as arrogant buffoons, who attempt to demonstrate their command of numerous languages in their writing, forcing “Greekish words” even if “there is no place for them.” Further, they search for “obsolete” or ancient vocabulary which confuses rather than enlightens the reader. Folly, then, satirically depicts the philosophers as being more interested in appearing clever than in spreading knowledge.
