AESOP In Select FABLES.
VIZ.
- I. At Tunbridge.
- II. At Bathe.
- III. At Epsom.
- IV. At Whitehall.
- V. From Tunbridge.
- VI. At Amsterdam.
WITH A DIALOGUE BETWEEN Bow-Steeple DRAGON, And the Exchange GRASHOPER.
LONDON, Printed and are to be Sold by most Booksellers in London and Westminster, 1698.
To the Reader.
RIding, of late, to take a little Are, and crossing by some chance the Tunbridge-Road, it was my fortune to find a parcel of Papers, which were doubtless dropt by some unwary Passenger, who had made more Haste than good Speed; and taking them up, I found they were the following Fables: which, I imagine, some Young Gentleman of Wit and Leisure, had diverted himself in composing, whilst he was obliged to drink the Waters. The Entertainment they gave me and my Friends, made me think of making them Publick; and considering the Nature of them, and that they were very fairly Written, it is not at all unlikely that the Author had designed them for the Press himself. There are but two little Reasons to the contrary, which may be also soon answered; First, That they are too small to make a Book; the Second, That some of the Fables are too bold, and might expose the Author to some Danger or Displeasure. As to the first Objection, Whoever would be sure of Pleasing must not be tedious; it happens but to a few great Books to be read through; and many good Authors have defeated their own purpose of instructing the World, by frightning the Reader with Three or four hundred Pages: But besides, the Nature of such a Work as this, requires that the Reader be never cloy'd, but always kept in good Humour and good Appetite, which a long [Page] work could hardly do; and 10 or 12 Morals are enow to amuse the Mind, and keep it exercised a good while. But, after all, it may be there were many Fables more intended to follow these and then I have nothing to say, but that these were all I found, and thought they were too many to be lost to the Publick. To the other Objection, the Author having nothing to answer; for they are publish'd, if not without his Will, yet without his Knowledge. But should it be granted that one or two Fables are a little too old and angry, yet since there is some Foundation for such sort of Mutterings and Complaints from whence can our Rulers learn these Truths more inoffencively, than from such little Stories? They will not, perhaps, attend so easily to wise and good Men as they will to Foxes and Asses; and wise and good Men will not, it may be, dare to tell those Truths these Beasts deliver, which yet our Governours should know.
I will not altogether excuse the Exaggeration of Matters in the Twelfth Fable; for tho' our Bargain be dear enough; yet I can't tell what we should have done without it; and Things, I hope will mend upon our hands, in good time.
AESOP AT TUNBRIDGE.
FAB. I. Fair Warning.
IN Aesop's new-made World of Wit,
Where Beasts could talk, and read, and writ
And say and do as he saw fit:
A certain Fellow thought himself abus'd,
And represented by an Ass;
And Aesop to the Judge accus'd
That he defamed was.
Friend, quoth the Judge, how do you know
Whether you are defam'd or no?
How can you prove that he must mean
You, rather than another Man?
Sir, quoth the Man, it needs must be,
All Circumstances so agree,
And all the Neighbours say 'tis Me.
That's somewhat, quoth the Judge, indeed,
But let this Matter pass;
Since 'twas not Aesop, 'tis agreed,
But Application made the Ass.
FAB. II. The Cock and Pearl.
A Dunghil Cock was raking in the Ground,
And flirted up a Pearl;
I would, quoth he, thou hadst been found
By some great Lord or Earl.
My self a single Barly-corn
Would, surely, rather find:
We Creatures that are dull, Earth-born,
Things only useful mind.
Whilst they who are divinely Wise,
And do from Jove proceed,
Thy lovely orient Lustre prize.
And for thy Beauty trade.
FAB. III. Of the Horse and Ass.
A Horse and Ass were journying on their way;
The Horse was only harness'd, light, and gay;
The Ass was heavy loaden, and lagg'd behind,
And thus, at length, bespake his Friend.
Companion, take some pity on my State,
And case me but of half my Weight.
Half will to you no burthen be,
And yet a mighty help to me.
The Horse laugh'd loud, and shook his Head,
And wantonly curvetting said;
Seignior, we Horses never chuse
The Burthens that we can refuse;
And should such Jest upon me pass,
Methinks I should be but an Ass.
The Ass quite spent, and vext to be deny'd,
Sunk down beneath his Weight, and dy'd.
The Master coming up, took off the Sack,
And threw it on the Horse's Back:
And having flaid his Ass, he threw
The filthy Hide upon him too.
At which the Horse, thus sadly humbled, cry'd.
(Letting some Tears for Grief and Anger fall)
Whether 'twere Cruelty, or Pride,
That I so fair Request deny'd.
I am justly serv'd, and made to carry all.
The Asses of the South and East
Desire the Horses of the North and West,
That, as to Parliament they Trot,
This Fable may not be forgot.
FAB. IV. Of the Iudgment of the Ape.
A Wolf complain'd that he had lost a Lamb,
And strait impleads a Fox of no good Fame,
(Who had a Lamb) that he had stoln the same;
An Ape was to decide the Cause,
Having some knowledg in the Laws.
No Councel was by either fee'd,
Each would his Cause, in Person, plead;
And so they did, with mighty heat;
The Judge himself did almost sweat,
To hear the force of their Debate.
How they accuse, and how defend,
How they reply'd, joyn'd and rejoyn'd.
At length in pity to the Court,
The Judge was fain to cut them short;
And thus determin'd — Sirs, in troth,
The Labm belongs to neither of you both.
You, Mr. Wolf, have, doubtless, lost no Lamb;
And, Renard, you as surely stole that same;
But not from him, if Justice might prevail,
You should be both condem'd to Fine and Jail.
So two great Lords for an Estate may fight,
Which does to neither appertain, by Right.
FAB. V. Of the Horse and Man.
A Fierce wild Boar, of monstrous size and force,
Did once, in early days, affront a Horse.
Who meditating Vengeance, found his Will
To hurt, much greater than his Power and Skill;
And therefore, chaf'd and resolute, he ran
To the next House, and thus apply'd to Man.
I come, Superiour Power, whom Jove hath made
His Substitute on Earth, to seek thy Aid,
Against a sordid Brute, who injures me,
And likewise speaks contemptibly of Thee.
Jove, whom thou nam'st (said Man) was to thee kind,
And sent thee where thou shalt Assistance find.
But this injurious Boar will never meet
Our Arms upon the Plain, but trusts his Feet.
But shall his Feet then his Protection be,
Since Swiftness is the Gift of Jove to thee?
(Mark it, my Friend, this Insolence
Deprives us or our common Sense.)
This doubtless he forgot; so will no we.
You, for Convenience, will a while submit
To be directed with a Bridle and Bit;
And take me on your Back, till we shall see
This your outrageous Enemy.
Up, said the Horse then, let us never rest,
Till we have found this cursed Beast.
Away then to the Woods they flew,
The Horse his Haunts and Coverts knew,
And there his Foe, the dextrous Warriour slew.
This done, they jocund homewards make,
And thus the Horse the Man bespake.
Now, Sir, accept my Thanks for what is past,
I to my wonted Fields, and Friends must: haste.
Hold, quoth the Man, we part non quite so soon:
Your Business is, but Mine is not yet done.
Some Service there remains, due to the Aid.
I lent you, which must be repaid.
This said, he light, and ty'd him to a Rack;
Where the poor Creature, thus with Sorrow spake.
Slight was the Injury of the Boar,
And might, perhaps, have been no more:
But now I'm utterly undone,
My Ease and Liberty are gone.
Sweet is Revenge, just in the Taste,
But surely Bitterness at last.
Let other Creatures warning take,
What Bargains they in Passion make.
Let Nations also take good care,
That they with many Hardships bear,
Rather than seek Redress abroad;
Which is but adding to their Load.
FAB. VI. The Bargain.
TWO Welchmen Partners in a Cow
Resolv'd to sell her dear;
And laid their Heads together, how
To do't at Ludlow Fair.
It was a sultry Summers Day,
When out they drove the Beast;
And having got about half way,
They sat them down to rest.
The Cow, a Creature of no Breeding,
(The place with Grass being stor'd)
Fed by; and whilst she was a feeding.
Let fall a mighty T—
Roger, quoth Hugh, I tell thee what,
Two Words and I have done;
If thou wilt fairly Eat up that,
The Cow is all thy own.
'Tis done, quoth Roger, 'tis agreed,
And to't he went a pace;
He seem'd so eager set, 'tis said,
That he forgot his Grace.
He labour'd with his wooden Spoon,
And up he stopt the stuff;
Till, by the time that half was done,
He felt he had enough.
He felt; but scorning to go back.
Would look as if he wanted more;
And seem'd to make a fresh Attack,
With as much Vigor as before,
But stopping short a while, he cry'd,
How fares it, Neighbour Hugh?
I hope, by this, you're satisfied,
Who's Master of the Cow.
Ay, ay, quoth Hugh (the Devil choak thee.
For nothing else can do't,)
I'm satisfied that thou hast broke me,
Unless thou wilt give out.
Give out? quoth Roger, that were fine;
Why, what have I been doing?
But yet I tell thee, Friend of mine,
I shall not seek thy Ruin.
My Heart now turns against such Gains;
I know th' art piteous Poor.
Eat thou the half that still remains,
And 'tis as 'twas before.
God's Blessing on thy Heart, quoth Hugh?
That Proffer none can gainsay;
With that, he readily fell to,
And Eat his share o'th' Tansie.
Well now, quoth Hodge, w'are ev'n, no doubt,
And neither side much Winner.
So had we been, quoth Hugh, without
This damn'd confounded Dinner.
Let this, both to our Wars and Peace
Be honestly apply'd;
France and th' Allies have done no less,
That what these Welch-men did.
FAB. VII. The Frogs Concern.
TWO fierce young Bulls within th [...] Marshes strove,
For the Reward of Empire and of Love;
Which should the fairest Heifer gain,
And wich should govern all the Plain.
This, when a Frog hard by perceiv'd,
He sigh'd, and sob'd, and sorely griev'd.
He hung his Head, and made great moan,
As though he had lost his Wife or Son.
At which a neighbour Frog admir'd,
And kindly of the Cause enquir'd;
Which when he knew, he said in haste,
And Gossip, is this all at last?
If this and that great Loggerheaded Bull
Will try the Thickness of each others Scull.
E'en let them do, as fit they see:
But what is that to You and Me?
If that, replied the other, were all indeed,
We should about this Matter be agreed,
I should not care a single Groat,
To see them tare each others Throat;
But, Friend, the Creatures of such Might,
Can nevet meet in Field to Fight,
But in the Fury of their full Carreer,
Both you and I endanger'd are;
And all our kindred Tribes below,
In hazard of their Lives must go.
When Bulls rush on, or when retreat for Breath,
They'll tread a hundred of us little Folks to death.
If Kings would fight themselves alone,
Their People still secure,
No mortal Man would part 'em sure,
But let them e'en fight on.
But when the Suhjects Blood is spilt,
And their Estates are drain'd,
To justifie a Princes Guilt,
Or have his Vanity maintan'd;
When they must pay for all at last,
That Lust, Ambition, or Revenge lay waste;
The poorest Man alive may fear,
And pray against the Miseries of War.
FAB. VIII. Of a Man and his Ass.
A Wretched Churl was traveling with his Ass,
Beneath two Panniers Load opprest;
And hearing Noise behind, cry'd to the Beast,
Fly, my Friend Roger, fly apace;
Else I'm undone, and all my Market's naught;
And thou thy self will by the Rogues be caught.
Caught? quoth the Beast, what if I be?
What will it signify to me?
My Panniers are so full, they'll hold no more;
I carry Two and cannot carry Four.
'Twixt Rogues and You, I can no difference make,
They are all Rogues to me, who break my Back.
Fly, fly from France, our Statesmen cry,
And Slavery's cursed Yoke;
Whilst with out Ancient Liberty,
Our very Backs are broke.
France is a Thief; but France can do no more,
Than keep the Panniers on me had before.
FAB. IX. Of a Wolf.
A Wolf retiring from Whitehall,
Where he had Statesman been,
Built for himself a Box so small,
That few could be receiv'd within.
The Country all admir'd at this,
And could not at the Reason guess,
Why one so Wealthy and so Great,
Should cage himself at such a rate.
Till at the last a Fox came by,
A Courtier also, sleek and sly.
And thus in earnest and in jest,
His Reason gave amongst the rest.
Perhaps my Lord Commissioner intends.
Here to receive only his honest Friends.
FAB X. The Plaintiff and Defendant.
TWO Travellers an Oyster found,
Dropt from some Pannier down;
Each stoopt, and took it from the Ground,
And claim'd it as his own.
Since both can't have it all, said one,
E'en let it parted be.
No, says the other, all or none,
But all belongs to me.
One Serjeant Law, by chance came by,
And he must end the Strife:
Which thing he did immediatly,
With his deciding Knife.
He took the Fish, arid cut it up;
(This Cause he opened well)
And fairly did the Oyster sup.
And gave to each a Shell.
And if hereafter Causes rise,
Where People can't agree,
I know, quoth he, you'll be so wise
To refer them still to me.
My Name is Law, my Chambers are
At some of the Inns of Court,
Or Serjeant's, or Westminster,
Where all for Help resort.
Sir, quo, the Men, trust us for that,
We shall not fail to tell,
'Twas Law that did the Oyster ear,
And left to Us the Shell.
FAB. XI. Of the Pigeons.
THE Hawks were once at mortal Jars,
Which came at length to Civil Wars.
The Pigeons they stood looking on,
And, full of Pity, made great moan;
To see how bloodily they fought,
And each the others Ruine sought.
And never would these Creatures cease,
Till they had mediated a Peace.
The Hawks did easily consent,
So Peace was made, and home they went,
Where when they came and wanted Prey,
And how to pass their time away;
They fairly made one general Swoop.
And eat their Mediator up.
Two lucky Pigeons were not there,
And so escap'd the Massacre.
Of which the One to th' Other said,
How came our Kindred all so mad?
Parting of Hawks! Hawks ever should
Be gorg'd with one anothers Blood.
The Wicked have a natural Rage,
(A thirst of Violence to asswage.)
Which if not on the Wicked spent,
Will fall upon the Innocent.
So the poor Hugonots of France.
And Vaudois full as poor.
Pray'd loudly, in their Innocence,
That God would Peace restore.
Peace was restor'd; but Peace to them
No Safety did restore
Their Hawks employ'd their Power and Time
Much worse than e'er before.
And thou, O Church of England Dove,
Doat not upon thy Peace;
That may, than War, more fatal prove,
Both to thy Wealth and Ease.
FAB. XII. The Farmer and the Hare.
A Hare did once into a Garden get
Belonging to a Farm;
Where she began to throw up Earth, and eat,
And do some little Harm.
The Farmer cours'd her round and round,
But got her not away;
Puss took a liking to the Ground,
And there resolv'd to stay.
Well, quoth the Fellow, in a Fret,
Since you are grown so bold,
I shall some more Assistance get,
And drive you from your Hold.
And strait he sends to a young Squire,
That he, by break of Day,
Would with his Pack of Hounds, repair
And sport himseif that way.
The Squire, as ask'd, attended came,
With Folks, and Horse, and Hounds,
And in pursuance of the Game,
Rode over all the Grounds.
They leapt the Ditches, broke the Hedges down,
And made most fearful Wast;
They trampl'd all the Garden round,
And kill'd poor Puss at last.
At this the Farmer tore his Hair,
And swore most bloodily,
Zounds! What confounded work is here?
And what a Fool am I?
Not fifty Hares, in fifty Days,
Had so much Mischief done,
As this good Squire (whom I must praise
And thank) hath wrought in One.
If our Deliverance from the Frights
Of standing Army near,
And silly superstitious Rites,
Worth Forty Millions were;
Then have we wisely broke our Mounds,
That our Defences were,
Wisely call'd in our Neighbours Hounds,
And kill'd the desperate Hare.
But if, with all this vast Expence,
Besides a Sea of Blood
Spilt in the Church and States Defence,
Our Matters stand much as they stood.
Then have we done a World of ill,
With endless Cost and Pains,
A little hurtful Hare to kill;
And well deserve the Brains.
FAB. XIII. Paetry its Cure.
A Youth of pregnant Parts and Wit,
And thirsty after Fame,
Was musing long which way to get
An everlasting Name.
And having heard of Poetry,
And its Immortal Praise;
He thought the way to Fame must lye
By courting of the Bayes.
He heard how many a noble Town
Laid Claim to Homer's Birth,
To purchase from it a Renown,
Above the rest of th' Earth.
This kindl'd in his generous Mind
A strong and noble Fire:
He seem'd for nothing else design'd,
Could nothing else desire.
The Father finding this intent
Ill with his state agreed,
That, living, wanted Six per Cent.
Much more than Fame when dead:
Resolvd to try to cure his Mind,
And change his vain Designs,
And could no fitter Method find,
Than sending him these Lines:
Seven wealthy Towns contend for HOMER Dead,
Through which the Living HOMER begg'd his Bread.
To the Reader.
AND why not Bathe as good as Tunbridge? and Epsom as either of both? I know the Virtues of none of our Mineral Waters, yet find that none of 'em all are sufficient to purge the Heads of the Jacobites: Perhaps you'll say, that's no fault of the Water, but of the Head, having no Brains to work upon. If this be the case, I can't help it; could I furnish Brains, I should e're now have made a better provision for my self. And for the Jacobites want of Brains, that's an advantage to the Commonwealth, considering the ill use they would put 'em to; furnished with that Commodity, they would become as mischievous as a Monkey in a Glass Shop, or a Madman with a Sword in his Hand. Were their wit answerable to their malice, what an abominable spot of Work would they make? We should have a fine Kettle of Fish on't I'll warrant you. 'Tis a wonderful comfort, good Reader, that curst Cows have short Horns, otherwise the Government would be most damnably gor'd. But really a Jacobite is a most inoffensive Creature, as harmless as a little. Devil of Two years Old, he'll do you no more hurt than he can; and if he does you any good, he'll be extreamly sorry for't. He's very well read in the noble Histories, Parismus, Reynard the Fox, and Tom Thumb; and this qualification introduces him inio the worshipful Club at Epsom [Page] or Tunbridge, where they make Plots, and such pretty Plots too as were never known, hanging being the end of some, and nothing the end of of others; but their last Plot was the finest thing, a very high Kick, Mr. Reader, a Fable Plot, where Birds and Beasts speak as much Sense as any Jacobite of 'em all; and the end of this Plot was Morals. The Jacobites never yet had any Morals in the beginning, middle, nor end of their Lives; and this hap'ning now is very extraordinary; I am afraid they are going to wind up their Bottom, and are in the same condition the Devil was in when he turn'd Monk. So much for their Fables; now, Reader go on, and thou'lt find that I write Fables too, only with this difference, mine are for the Government theirs against it; theirs writ by a Club, mine by my self: they have bad ever since Perkins and Friend were hang'd to write theirs, I only one Day. Now whether thou likest my Fables or no I can't tell, nor do I care; Fables I will write for all thee, or any body else, and so farewel.
AESOP AT BATHE.
FAB. I. Fair Warning.
A Certain Poet in Lampoon
Abus'd the Fop, the Beau, Buffoon,
All sorts of great and little Knaves,
Would make Kings Beasts, and People Slaves.
The Court condemn'd his Lines to Fire,
And with the Offspring would the Sire.
The Poet is in Limbo taken,
And hard it is to save his Bacon.
The Judge doth rail, the Courtiers bawl,
And quite alive is grown Whitehall.
The Poet to appease the Storm,
Said he, my Lords, I meant no harm;
Here's no man nam'd, no scandal mag',
And all the rest not worth a Rag.
Up stood a Lord, look'd mighty big,
With Sense scarce half so long as Wig:
And by your leave good Master Poet,
For this wise Board's resolv'd to know it,
Who 'tis you mean by Fools and Knaves,
And beastly Kings and abject Slaves?
My Lord, he said none in his Wits.
But thinks, I mean, each Knave it hits.
FAB II. The Fox and the Poultry.
AN aged Fox that ravag'd Woods and Plains,
Dread Foe to Cocks and Hens, and Country Swains;
The most Tyrannick Reynard e're was known,
Since Beasts bore rule, and hector'd on a Throne.
He neither young nor old, when hungry spar'd;
Alike the Lambkins and the Hen-roost far'd.
But Age retards at last his hasty flight,
He plunders not so much by day, non ravages by night;
Grown weak and Feeble, Wit must now supply
His want of Strength —
No kind good-natur'd Fox will bring him Food,
He must share the Fortune of the Wood.
One day, as hungry Reynard sat alone,
His empty Guts and Fortune did bemoan;
Said he, I'll try what aged Craft can do.
New Methods find, a new Device pursue:
Hard by a Tarbox lay, some careless Swain
Had left when he kept Sheep upon the Plain.
Projecting Reynard with a diligent care
Bedawbs his Belly, Sides and Back with Tat
Then to a Ditch he goes, where t'other day
He did a Hen and all her Chickens slay;
Their Feathers still lay scatter'd on the Ground,
In which the Fox did wallow, tumble round.
The Feathers sticking still as he did rowl,
Made him resemble much a larger Fowl.
And thus transform'd into a new disguise,
Unto a neighbouring Henroost strait he hies:
And just beneath the Roost his station took,
And looking on the Perch, the Poultry thus bespoke.
Kind gentle Cocks and Hens I am
No more your Foe:
What once I did, is now my shame,
And for the future I the same
No more will do.
I come not as an Enemy
Your Lives to take,
But would with you'in Friendship be,
As you may judge if you but see
The Clothes upon my Back.
Come down, then Friends, a lasting Truce
'Twixt you and I;
I'll neither Cocks nor Hens abuse;
Let us shake hands as Lovers use,
Be Friends until we die.
No, quoth the Cock, you will as much devour
As e're you did, were but it in your power:
Your vain pretence of Kindness we abhor,
And from our Perch we will not downward stir:
You've chang'd you Coat, but have not chang'd your Name;
If that were alter'd too, your Nature is the same.
In vain do those, who heretofore
Our Liberties betray'd
Ʋnto a wild Despetick Pow'r,
And level all our Fences laid:
In vain they talk of Property,
Or think to be believ'd;
Their Actions give their Tongue the lie:
Who can be thus deceiv'd;
Their vain pretence of publick Good
Is for sinister Ends;
And who the Dee'l, when understood'
Wou'd be such Villains Friends?
They'd feed the Flock, only to steal the Fleece;
When the Fox preaches, then beware the Geese.
FAB. III. The Poor Man and the Devil.
ALab'ring Swain had been at work,
And all his Limbs had tir'd,
By using Shovel, and the Fork,
To rest at Night retir'd.
So sweet's the sleep of Country Swains,
Such undisturb'd Repose
Accompanies their daily pains,
That Peace about them flows.
No dismal Visions do affright,
No Dreams do e're approach;
Within the Curtains of the Night
They sleep as sound as any Roach,
But now the Swain, in dead of night.
An airy Phantom saw;
A cloven-footed hideous Spright
Him out of Bed did draw:
And led him to an Orchard fair,
Where pointing to a Tree,
Beneath that Stock, he said, is there
A Fund of Gold for thee,
But how, reply'd the fleepy Swain,
Shall I this Treasure find,
Or know that self-same Tree again
No mark being left behind?
Then quoth the Dee'l, shit near the place,
And thus upon my word,
To morrow when thou view'st the Grass,
Thou't know it by the T—
Thus did the Swain; when he awoke,
And rais'd his drouzy Head,
He found not as the Devil spoke,
But found a T — in Bed.
Thus sleeping Jacks do dream and snore,
And please their foolish mind,
In thinking what they were before,
And what henceforth they'l find.
But if they would right measures take,
And govern'd be by Wit;
When once their Reason do's awake,
They'l find their Cause beshit.
FAB. IV. The Fox and Grapes.
1.
A Fox espy'd a bunch of Grapes,
Most beauteous in their Nature;
He grinn'd like any Jackanapes,
And all his Teeth did water.
2.
He striv'd to reach'em, but in vain;
He leapt and sprang as high
As any Beast of Reynard's strain,
But could not reach them nigh.
3.
He said, 'tis true, they do look fair,
Yet sowr are, I Know;
So let'em hang, ev'n as they are,
I'll march, and let 'em grow.
Thus Rebels do by Governments
They cannot undermine;
They let the King, the God alone,
Tho not adore His Shrine.
Tis well their hands are made so short,
That they can reach no higher,
Else we shou'd all be burned for't,
They'd set the World on fire.
FAB. V. The Fool's Concern.
TWO Fools were born, and might live free.
And strugled much for Slavery:
One prais'd a Goal 'bove an Estate,
And swore no Windows like a Grate.
One lik'd the Fashions Frenchmen use;
But above all of Wooden Shoes:
Envy'd the Musick of his Betters,
Th' harmonious noise of jingling Fetters.
Whilst they at one another grumbl'd,
One on a pair of Fetters stumbl'd;
Near which another pair did shine,
Tho not so big, nor half so fine.
The Fools begin a new Contest,
Not which of them shou'd have the best,
But which the biggest Chain shou'd wear.
A Country Fellow being near,
Said he, the thing is quickly done,
Join both the Fetters into one,
And let each Man put in a Foot,
The Devil tak't if this don't do't.
If England still is in extremes,
And will not yet be sav'd,
Call in the French, and late King James,
And your compleat enslav'd.
FAB. VI. The Farmer and the Badger.
A Badger once did ravage all the Fields
Belonging to a Farm;
Dug up the Earth, and spoil'd all that it yields,
And did a wond'rous harm.
The Farmer halloo'd on his Dog,
Thinking thereby to quell her;
But being bred to hunt the Hog,
He knew not how to kill her.
The Farmer sends for a young Squire
To come with all his Hounds;
His and their Aid he does require,
To beat her from her Mounds.
The Squire came with all his Hounds,
The Badger did pursue;
He ravag'd all the Farmer's Grounds,
And kill'd the Badger too
Some little mischief true he did,
In beating down the Corn,
And breaking Hedges as he rid:
So small a loss was born.
For, says the Farmer, now my Sheep
May more securely graze;
My Poultry may the Henroost keep,
I'm better than I was.
If our deliverance from our Foes,
And Popish Tyranny,
Ben't worth the Money has been rose,
'Tis pity we are free,
'Tis certain wisely we have done,
To keep the Nation safe,
In giving part as we have done,
To save the better half.
FAB. VII. The Cure of Malecontents.
A Son unto his Father wrote,
That he would him advise,
How men might be to reason brought,
That never were born wise:
How a tumultuous brood of Fools,
that never are content,
Might once be polish'd into Tools,
And fit for Government:
How those who for many Years
Have long'd for Slavery,
At once might lose their Asses Ears,
And cover to be free.
The Father mildly told the Son,
In the Attempt he'd falter:
No Cure upon them could be done,
But by a hempen Halter.
FAB. VIII: The Ravens and Crows.
A Lusty Horse, nor long ago,
Would snuffle, snort and kick,
Curvet and prance, as others do,
Was fallen wondrous sick.
'Twas far from any House or Town,
No Doctor cou'd be got;
So the poor Beast must die alone,
And without burial rot.
He restless lay upon the Ground,
And turn'd from side to side:
His Groans the neighboring Woods resound,
Where Birds of prey reside.
No sooner did they hear the noise,
But from the Woods they flew,
Whole Troops of Ravens, and the Crows,
And round the Horse they drew.
At length a Raven of renown,
Strutting like Prince of Conde;
As black as any Parson's Gown
He wears upon a Sunday:
Gets on a Mole-hill, look'd around,
And thus bespoke the Crows;
We're antient Friends, and without ground
We will not now be Foes.
You know, by Contract, we're to have
The Carrion of this Place;
And you the other side did crave,
Such our Agreement was,
No, quoth the Crows, this very place,
To us is free as Air;
And how dare you with such a face,
Oppose such numbers here?
Ay, quoth the Raven, then we'll try
To whom it doth belong;
But first let the poor Creature die,
Then see who's right or wrong.
Both sides resolv'd to fight so out,
Each do's advantage take;
They march, and march and march about,
And each one whets his Beak.
They view the Ground, and mark the Came
And the Approaches form;
Contrive the easiest methods from;
They may the carcase storm.
Mean time the Horse lies dangerouS ill,
Yet shites, and farts, and groans;
Good signs, they say, in PhysicK skill,
And stretching of the Bones.
The Horse (tho helpless) by degrees,
Began to gather strength;
At first he rises on his Knees,
And on his Legs at length.
The Birds of prey were all surpriz'd,
And all away they flew;
The Battel's thus on both sides lost,
And all the Carrion too.
Thus some, whom neither Peace nor Ware
Can satisfy, still hope for Jars;
That by great Princes falling out,
They may their Business bring about.
And Wonders must be done and said,
When once the King of Spain is dead;
But he, like Horse, prevents the fight,
And is resolv'd to live in spite.
FAB. III. The Parson and Whig.
A Jolly Whit upon the Road,
As People say, met Man of God;
A First-rate Clergyman was he.
And of Bell-swagger's Family:
Ar School the lash did oft-endure,
And was dragg'd uo by Dr. Cluer.
So bravely mounted was the Parson,
That better Steed no Man laid Arse on:
Stopping the Whig, he bid him stand,
And give the Church the better hand:
Thou look'st like some dissenting Prig.
Good morrow, Parson, quoth the Whig.
Pray, why that, Sir, upon my Coat?
Quoth Whig, I value not a Groat
Thy Coat, nor Church, nor Common-pray'r
Nor all Ash-wednesday Curses there:
Yet to the Church I can be civil;
But stop't by Priest, it is the Devil.
Quoth Parson, if thoul't hold a Parley,
At yonder Town's good Juice of Barley
Thy looks, I'm sure, will never fail.
For by thy Nose thou lov'st good Ale;
And there in a reformed Cup,
This Difference we will make up.
With all my heart, said Whig, I'll do't;
And so away they both did trot.
As Parson near the Road did look,
He found a Common-prayer Book.
Half cry'd the Whig; no, said the Priest,
This do's belong to me at least:
Half, had been thine, had it been Rivo [...],
But this is mine, Jure Divino.
The Whig insisted on his half:
The Book was good, and bound in Calf,
Wou'd Mony fetch; rather than fail,
He'd have it melted down in Ale,
Quoth Priest, that is profanely spoke;
Nothing's ill said, that's not ill took:
I know not, Sir, but it may be
'Gainst Act of Uniformity,
Which I remember, do's declare,
That we shou'd read, not drink the Pray'r.
This Book was bought, I must confess,
With Mammon of Unrigteousness.
And if we sell it on this score,
It is but what it was before.
'Twill make us drink, and sing and roar.
No longer now with difference clogg'd,
The Priest and Whig together jogg'd:
To Ale-house come, they both alight,
And ere they enter'd went to shite;
For Guts o'reloaded sometimes burst,
The way to fill's to empty first;
They past the Glass in Bumpers big,
And [...]ere's t'ye Priest, and bere's tye Whigh.
The Hostess scarce could get a sup,
So fast they drank the Liquor up,
She's forc'd to tap another Tub,
The Passive Ale did often venture,
At non-resisting Mouth, did enter;
So quick it past about, that all
The ready Rino's drown'd in Ale;
No Juice remain'd within the Glass,
And eke the Pot full empty was.
Now good reserve of Prayer-Book,
From underneath the Gown was took:
To work again in Liquor stout,
They Orthodoxly drink about:
At every tiff is gulpt at once
A learned Collect or Response.
Two Glasses in a hand they seize on,
Which go for first and second Lesson.
The Ale doth in right Channel go,
Modo Ecclesiastico.
All's fairly done, without a Trick,
No man is here a Schismatick.
The drinking Orders all observe;
And not one bit from Canon swerve;
And drinking Articles would sign,
Tho they were more than Thirty nine.
Now, said the Priest, the Book is gone,
I've a good mind to pawn my Gown.
Ay, do, said Whig, thy Cassock too,
And Cirsingle; if that won't do,
Rather than leave thee in the lurch.
I'll help thee pawn the very Church,
And sell the Bells, Communion Plate,
There is no Sacrilege in that.
Says Hostess now the Tub's on stoop;
If it will afford another Cup,
It shall be mine, since you this day
Have taught me how to brew and pray.
Thus two good Friends were forc't to part,
Like Thief from Priest in Tyburn Car [...]:
'Twas want of Liquor, not of Will,
Or else they had been at it still.
How much Religion is abus'd;
How little Honesty is us'd,
By those who do profess the same;
How much the Sacred Name
Is every where profan'd,
How deeply stain'd,
The Parson's Gown,
A Friend to none,
But to himself alone.
Lord I how we heard'em cant, and pray, and whine,
And preach up Monarchy of Right Divine.
Why did they so?
It was their Interest so to do.
When Right divine new Clergy-Men did seek,
Seiz'd on the Church, and made the Tithe-pig squeek;
Passive Obedience now was preacht no more;
Instead of which the Churches Canons roar,
Reach'd with Complaints the Belgick Shoar,
The Norther Lion o're the Seas did pass,
And scar'd away the Church's Ass;
The Church, by whose advice he ruin'd was.
They'll make, and govern Kings, but none obey,
But where their Interest leads the way
Interest, for which they'd pawn their very God,
Their Church, their Principles: 'tis very odd,
A King shou'd trust men will be brib'd with Gold,
And not be heedful when another's sold.
AESOP AT EPSOM.
To his Excellency Charles Montague, Esq; one of the Lord's Justices for the Administration of publick Affaires during the King's Absence, first Lord Commissioner of the Treasury, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and one of His Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council.
SIR,
THo' a Present of Fables to Your Excellency the immitable Author of the Country-Mouse, and City-Mouse, may at this time seem improper: Yet a Present of Loyalty to the same Government, which You have been so studious and successful in the Preservation of, cannot but carry its Acceptance with it. That Liberty which Your Excellency gave the World so sweet a taste of in Your most incomparable Fable, and which afterwards You was so instrumental in continuing to us, is [Page] in part the Subject of these. And as Aesop at Tunbridge, by feign'd and surreptitious Fables, seems to bewail the change of the late Government, so Aesop at Epsom with real and genuine resoyceth at the Establishment of this. Sir, Your Execellency's great Example has such a prevailing influence, as to make the meanest Subject solicitous for the Publick Good, and to see that Revolution become the subject of Satyr, which has giv'n such opportunities for Henegyrick, (and whose Royal Author has had such immortal Commendations from Your Excellency's the best of Pens) could not but add very much to my Resentments in the following Papers. But, Sir, to give no further interruption to a Gentleman whose very Leisure is employ'd for the publick Safety, I shall not encroach upon Your time any further than to beg Your Acceptance of this poor Entertainment, which, shall make me add to my Endeavours of appoving my self in a more substantial way,
Sir,
Your Excellency's most Obedient Servant.
AESOP AT EPSOM.
FAB. I. Of the Fox and the Stork.
A Subtil Fox, well practis'd in design,
Invites a Stork, that He with him will dine
A match, says Stork, Sir Reynard it's agreed,
And home he goes, and much resolv'd to feed.
Nothing will serve, but that He's sure the Beast.
Will soon repent He'd brought him for a Guest,
His Stomach was so empty, and so great,
Zounds! He himself should finish all the treat.
Fox smiles, and in his Cubs the Dinner bring,
Soop, and Pottage, a Banquet for a King.
Fall on, my guest, said Fox, and down he pour's
The liquid Feast which He himself devours.
Dear Stork, He crys, 'Slife. Child, why dost not Peck,
The Stork he stretches, and extends his neck.
But nothing can get up within his Bill,
Whilst Reynard licks it up, and Eats his fill;
At length perceiving how he had been serv'd,
He homeward Stalks, or he must else have Strav'd,
But Mindfull of the Fox his empty Treat,
Sends to Invite Him to a dish of Meat.
The Fox not thinking Storks had had the sense
To mind affronts, or take the least offence.
Took him at's word, and said, Sir Stork content,
I'll see what House you keep, and Home wi'him went.
The Table Spread, and every thing compleat,
That might put Fox in mind He was to eat:
Two Servant Storks upon the Table plac'd
A Narrow long-neck'd Glass which held the Feast;
Lampreys and Eels within it might be seen,
The Glass was so transparant and so clean,
When Stork, Sans ceremony, Sir, begin,
You see your Entertainment here, within,
I'll shew the way; and in his Beak he thrust
Whil'st Reynard try'd in vain, add trying curs'd.
Lord, said the Stork, are you a Beast of thought,
And yet no Broth, or Soop, or Pottage brought?
I'd e'en fetch some, and fill the Vessel up,
You then, although You could not eat, might sup.
MORAL
The Application soon is made
By any that's a Reader,
One in his turn the Fool has play'd,
And whose turn's now consider:
The Tunbridge Aesop first has given
The Town a Dish of Meat,
And faith, to make the Tallies ever,
Epsom should also treat.
FAB. II. Of the Lamb and the Wolf.
A Wolf as he look'd our for prey,
And went in search of food,
Perceiv'd a Lamb and Goat in's way
Come jogging on the Road.
Mutton he lov'd, but did not dare
Fasten on that he spy'd,
Whilst Hircus with his Horns was there,
And thus to part them try'd.
Home from this Beast for shame, Sir Lamb.
It grieves my very Soul,
To see you leave a Noble Dam,
And walk with Goat so foul.
A Goat! fy on't, the very worst
Of all the Brutal Race;
A stinking Animal and curs'd,
The Woods, and Fields disgrace.
Hark you, said Lamb; I plainly know
Whom you your Tricks would put on,
And what you mean by gaping so,
Poor Wolf! he wants some Mutton.
I'thank you for th' Advice you lend,
And wonder not you shou'd
Like me much better than my Friend,
Since I am much better Food.
MORAL.
So when the Wars broke out at first,
And France prepar'd for fighting,
Lord! how her Mighty Monarch curs'd
The Dutch and us uniting!
Per Dieu, said he, the British Race
Of Heroes once the Chief
Joyn with a Land so cursed Base,
And ask of them relief!
But had his Aim succcessful been
And us from them remov'd,
We then the sad Effects had seen.
And Fables moral prov'd.
FAB. III. Of the Sun and the North-wind.
BEtwixt the Sun and Wind, arose
A Quarrer, like to end in Blows,
If both of 'em had not rather chose
A fitting Mediator.
It seems that this Contention grew
From which was Strongest of Two.
And down their Wagers strait they threw
Thus to decide the matter.
By chance a Traveller came by,
And both with one united cry,
On him let us our Forces try
To finish the Dispute:
He that the first a Way could find
To make him leave his Cloak behind
Should win; it's dine, agreed, said Wind.
Said Sun, content, I'll do't.
When Boreas summon'd every Blast,
And at him all his fury cast,
But flinging round his Cloak, he pass'd
And forwarded his Journey:
Sol smiles, and gath'ring all his Rays,
Sure of the Conquest and the Bays,
I'll make you quit your Cloack, he says,
Or else, by God, I'll burn ye.
Straight Passenger began to swear,
Enrag'd and troubled with the Heat,
And in a most confounded Pett,
At last flung off the Garment
Boreas, said Sol, See yonder Cloak,
The Wagers won and thou art broke,
And up in haste the Stakes he took,
And that was all the harm in't.
MORAL.
Thus blust'ring Kings like Boreas often fail;
Whilst others like the Conqu'ring Sun prevail;
Numbers may fright and dismal Fancies raise,
But what can Numbers in improper Ways?
Whilst at Campeign extended Armies shine,
And France her infant Printes fight, and dine;
Whilst Boufflers treats the Ladies with a Song,
And Duke de Berry learns the Spanish Tongue,
A Prince at Cell, who Seemingly appears
Thoughtless of Arms since now releas'd from Wars:
Amid'st his Sports, shall-fit Expedients find
To cheat the dangers by their Arms design'd:
And one poor Hunting Matcl. perhaps may break:
The Measures which their fam'd Encampments take.
FAB. IV. Of the Trumpeter.
A Trumpeter in time of War
Was in the Battle taken;
And Dead almost with very fear.
Try'd thus to save his Bacon.
Dear Sirs, if guiltless Actions save,
Or Innocence secures,
From you the grant of Life I crave,
Who ne'er, endanger'd yours.
Nor Sword, nor Musquet have I born,
Or any other Weapon worn
Than what is in my hand:
This Trumpet never gave a wound,
Or utter'd any thing but empty sound,
And that too by command.
Off with the Dog, and fetch the Rope,
Said Enemy, and tye him up,
A Villain! never spare him.
Zounds! That same Instrument is worse
Than Sword, and Gun, and every Curse;
And we've most cause to fear him,
Since from his blasts, those wounds at first proceed,
By which so many Thousands of us bleed.
MORAL.
So crys an Author who has spent his spleen,
What harm can silly Fables mean?
Or how can Faction takes its birth,
From a few Tales, and unprovoking Mirth?
They may perhaps delight,
But rest assur'd they'll never Fight,
The Beast I-treat of cannot Plot
Or traffick in Sedition: what of that?
When if he rail'd like O—ts, like S— Fought,
Curs'd like a Man at Sam's, like M— thought,
All join'd together ne'er was able
To show the malice of one single Fable.
FAB. V. Of the Apple and the Horse-Turd.
AN Apple falling from a Tree
Which near a River stood,
With Horse Turd in his Company
Was sailing down the Flood.
When Turd ambitious to discourse
A thing so much above it,
Would into Conversation force
As down the River drove it,
Lord! Madam, what a pleasant Stream
Is this in which we ride?
Sister! How we Two Apples swim?
The foul Sir-rev'rence cry'd.
MORAL.
A Thread-bare Wriner who perchance
Has not one Farthing paid,
To carry on the War with France,
Towards the Royal Aid.
Crys, Damn this curs'd confounded Peace,
It Forty Millions cost,
And we could not procure our Ease
Till All our Wealth was lost.
FAB. VI. of the Covetous and the Envious Man.
TWO men to Jove their Prayers made
For some kind Earthly Blessing,
One never satisfy'd with what he had,
Tho' rich beyond Expressing.
Th' other was envious, nor car'd
What mischief e're befell Him,
So that his Comrade was not spar'd,
And what should kill him, kill him:
Jove Teaz'd with their Petitions, sent
His Son Appolo to 'em,
To try to give'em both content,
And know what service. He could do'em.
Ask, said Appollo, Friends what 'ere
You want th'out further trouble,
And what is ask'd from either pray'r
T'other shall have it double.
With that, the parsimonious Cuff
For Wealth did loudly call,
Which downward fell but ne'r enough
For his desires could fall.
Still as he ask'd, the Richess came,
And doubled on the other,
Tho' still his prayer was the same
Which still enrich'd his Brother,
Next in his turn, Sir Envy kneel'd.
And with a bale-ful Eye,
Dear Phaebus to my prayer yield
And barken to my cry,
Now oh! just now thou Pow'r divine
This favour let me find,
Put out this single Eye of mine,
That his may both be blind.
FAB. VII. Of the Beaver, and the Hunters.
A Beaver being close pursu'd
By Hunters, Horse, and Hounds;
And neither safe, within the Wood,
Nor in the open Grounds,
I know full well (and step'd aside)
The reasons why I'm chas'd, he cry'd.
And much lament the, Cause.
My Stones are what they want, and I
Must either part with them, or die,
And glut the Beagles jaws:
With that, though he was loath to part
With things as precious as his heart,
Or with a quiet mind
Surrender up the pride of all his kind,
Yet life was sweet, and utt'ring forth some groans,
Off went his dear beloved Stones,
Which in the Hunters way
The Melancholy Beast did lay.
Call in the Hounds, the fierce Pursuers said,
We've caught the Game, and have our Markets made;
And taking up the Prize they went
All homeward with content.
Whlist the Enervate Beast return'd,
To graze in quiet on the plain:
And never after this Misfortune mourn'd,
Or fled from Hunters or from Hounds again.
MORAL.
If a certain great Prince had but done as this Beast,
And instead of each Stone gotten rid of each Priest,
He had still been King, whom his People had bless'd.
But since He bad rather keep in with Ned Petre
And likes Fryers, and Monks for his company fitter:
Let him now keep his Stones, for there's none but has beater.
FAB. VIII. The Lion and the Fox.
A Fox, a Lion's Chaplain, when
The Beasts began to cry,
And gather round their Monarch's Den
For Antient Liberty;
Said, may it please my Sov'raign, Lord,
Your subjects are your Slaves,
And if they dare to speak a word,
Your Throat may be their Graves.
With that the Monarch Wisely smil'd
At good Sir Crapes advice,
And said, go fetch your youngest Child,
My Stomach's something nice.
Sir, said the Fox, Your in the wrong,
I must your pardon crave,
Parsons alone to Jove belong,
And no Controulers have.
MORAL.
So in late times the Pulpits rung,
With Passive Non-Resistance,
And all the burthen of their Song
Was Duty and Asstance:
Life, Wealth, and every thing was due
To Him, who or'e us rul'd,
And Whilst that Cant they would pursue,
We'd all of's E'en been fool'd,
Had not their Church's Lands been thought
Belonging to the Throne:
And made 'em change their former note,
And what they said disown.
FAB. IX. Of Iupiter and the Monkey.
JOVE was desirous once to know
What Animal did bear
The handsom'st Off-spring, or could show
A little one most fair.
He summon'd every living thing
Unto a certain place,
To come before him, and to bring
A Pattern of it's Race.
Forth with each Female creature came,
Which Air, or Sea, or Earth,
Could for its proper Tenant claim,
And each produc'd a Sample of it's Birth.
When as the Pow'rful God was just
Deciding the dispute,
Up to the Throne a Monkey thrust,
A most deformed Brute!
And with, her Young one in her hand
(Whilst All the Company smil'd)
Vouchsafe great Jove to understand
Mine is the finest Child:
Please you my Liege to view this face,
How regular and sweet!
How well proportion'd every grace!
And how exact the features meet?
Surely my Lord can ne're refuse
My Child and Me the Bays.
When Jove for laughing could not chuse:
And all of 'em went their ways.
MORAL.
So Young Aesop from Bath, or Old Aesop from Whitehall,
May amuse Town, and Country with a fab'lous recital,
And in love with themselves think their own things the best,
Whilst the Clergy, they laugh at, escape the dull Jest:
And all the success of each Fable and Story
Is to lay down their own Faults like the Monkey before ye.
FAB. X. Of the Hares and the Frogs.
A Time was fix'd when Hares should meet,
And for dispatch of Business fit,
Without the least delays,
To remedy their present State,
Or else anticipate their Fate,
By proper means and ways.
Strait every Puss the Form forsook,
Which He or She for shelter took,
And hasten'd to the place
Which by appointment was design'd,
To heal the mischiefs of their Kind
Or make extinct their Race.
The SPEAKER chose, and Members plac'd,
The House resolv'd it self at last
Into a grand Commitee:
But what a pother, Lord! they kept?
One sigh'd, another trembling wept,
'Twould move us all to pity.
At length a Chief of high Rnown,
And Ranger of some mighty Down,
First ask'd the Hous's leave:
And then stood up, whilst all the rest
With sorrows, and with grief oppress'd
Could nothing else but grieve.
Brethren, said he, a wretched Race,
Whom Men and Dogs, and Eagles chase,
The Sport of the Creation,
In vain we're thinking to redress
Our Grievances, or make 'em less,
While in this living Station.
Hounds will for ever be pursuing,
And Hunters meditating ruin,
Whilst we must still be flying;
We'd better (Friends) if I might give
Advice, this moment cease to live,
Then always be a dying.
Tho' Death is not a thing which fuits
With constitutions of such Bruits
As Hares are of, 'tis certain:
Yet they resolv'd, with much ado,
To bid the Groves, and Hills adieu,
Tho not 'thout tears at parting.
By chance there was a River near
The place, where these Assemblers were
Debating how to die,
Wherefore to put off all delays,
They fix'd in that to end their days
The sooner, 'cause so nigh,
But, Lord! how Puss would backward shrink,
When almost at the very brink,
And sigh she was so near!
Then tell her Beads, and wish some Saint
Would help her from this damn'd restraint,
And ease her of her fear!
At last the leading Hares were come,
Prepar'd and ready for their Doom,
And at the Flood arriving,
A Frog or two into it skipp'd,
Which made 'em look before they leap'd,
And think of longer living.
Hark ye (said Puss who bore the sway)
Fair and softly wins the Day,
There's no such need to die yet;
I'll Home again, and e'em submit
To what my Destiny thinks fit,
And keep my Form in quiet.
Troth Sirs, the Fate of Frogs is worse
Than ours, which we at present curse,
And are so much afraid at;
For me who fear most things beside
Are fear'd by them, and that's my Pride
Since these are us dismay'd at.
Sirs, it would be a pretty: Jest,
If since our life is not the best
It should be made our loathing.
Faith tho' I cannot be the Chief,
I have this comfort and relief,
I'm better far than nothing.
MORAL.
Hence let the Male contented mind
Instructive Lessons draw;
Not be uneasy, when confin'd
Within the bounds of Law.
What tho' his Purse is something drein'd,
For Peace he ne'ere desir'd,
And has in pare that Prince maintain'd
Who might have all requir'd?
A Neighb'ring King's best Subjects paid
Thrice more than William's worst,
And without Mony Laws obey'd,
When his with Mony curs'd.
If therefore he like Hare should grieve
Since small respect we show Him,
Like Hare in Fable let him live
Since he has Frogs below him.
OLD AESOP At WHITEHAL, &c.
The PREFACE.
IT is now the Mode, it seems, for Brutes to turn Politicians; and if we may give Credit to some late Authors, their Houses of Parliament assembled at Tunbridge and Bathe. The Lion who by Prescription hath been own'd for King, Nemine Gontradicente, pleads it as his Priviledge to summon them to his Banquetting-House at Whitehal; whence all the Three sttaes may by a short and easie Walk arrive together at Westminster, and there consult for the Common Good. He carries a bundle of Arrows in his Hand, with this Motto over them, Concordia resparvae crescunt, discordia maxima dilabuntur.
If there be no Mysteries in Christianity, it seems there are some in Policy; when Jacobites and Commonwealths men, who have mutually branded one another with the harshest Names that Malice and Rancour could invent, should now unite in a Design against the present Government, as a common Center. If it be so, (which Old AESOP is very unwilling to believe,) he hath given Commission to his Beasts, in the following Fables, to declare the first to be (what they always were) Knaves, and the latter (which he is sure they will be loth to be accounted) Fools. If the Reflections seem too Satyrical, they may consider that it comes from Beasts like themselves. And so Aesop bids them Farewel, but to take Care not to divide the prey till it is caught.
Whitehal, Septemb. 22. 1698.
THE SUMMONS.
THE, Jackall did the King of Brutes inform
That some design'd to mine, and some to storm
His Royal Fort. At which, with generous Rage
The Kingly Beast, their Malice to asswage,
Sends forth his Summons, That they should appear
At Brutes Whitehal, from Quarters far and near,
There to consult; and if they found that any
Better deserv'd the Sway among the Many
Than Leo did, he wou'd the Crown forswear
And never henceforth any Scepter bear:
But at the same time gives't as his Advice,
It's better to fill Bag one time than thrice,
Or Three times three. It's better under one,
Than many Masters, to lament and groan.
Old AESOP AT WHITEHAL, GIVING Advice to the Young AESOPS AT Tunbridge and Bathe.
FAB. I. The Tortoise and Frogs.
A Heavy Tortoise seeing Frogs
Nimbly leap in Pools and Boggs,
Bless'd their limber Hams, that they
Could so bravely frisk and play;
Curs'd the hard and heavy Pack
That Nature laid on his own Back:
He could neither Skip nor Dance,
Nor caper A-la-mode de France.
But as soon's he saw the Stork
Could the Frogs from Puddle fork,
And that for all their nimble Heels
They became a Prey to Eels;
Then he quickly chang'd his Note,
And for's own Coat of Mail gave Vote;
Thank'd his Stars that he was free
From Storks and such-like Tyranny,
By being armed Cap-a-pee.
MORAL.
Did but see through Gallick Sway
How feeble Subjects are a Prey
To th' Sovereign's arbitrary Will,
Who can at's Pleasure save and kill;
Did we feel th' Effects of's Sword and Flames
Saw Virgins ravish'd, heard the Cries of Dames;
When Soldiers sack their Towns, destroy their Men,
Cut off their Children, scarce spare One in Ten;
Could we but see Rome's Priests converting France
With Arguments from Gun, Sword, Spear, and Lance;
And then reflect that this had been our Doom,
Could James the Just have paid his Von's to Rome,
We would not grumble at the Tax we pay
To keep such Monstrous Tyranny away,
But should, that William might live ever pray.
FAB. II. Of the other Members conspiring against the Belly.
ONce on a Time the Hands and Feet,
With Back, and Loins, and Bum did meet
In a Rebellious Consult, where
The B— ch as Speaker took the Chair,
And with an uncouth-hollow sound
The following Treason did propound:
Brethren, quoth he, you know the Head
Makes us toil and sweat for Bread,
Yet nothing to our Lot doth fall,
But idle Gut consumes it all.
My Friends, if you'll be rul'd by me,
We will shake off this Tyranny.
If Head and Belly will have Meat,
Let them toil for't with Hands and Feet.
Agreed, says Back, I vow and swear,
For them I'll no more Burthens bear.
Content, says Bum, if it be your Will;
Fot I love dearly to sit still.
Says Feet, I'll no more Errands run.
The Loins say, Brethren, it is done.
The Hands vow they would work no more,
And wish they'd been as wise before.
The Members thus in Holy League
Did bless themselves for this Intrigue.
But suddenly the Hands grew weak,
The Feet grew numb, the Loins did shake,
The Back was feeble, the Bum grew poor:
And Breech the Chair-man loud did roar,
Pray cram the Gut, and we'll rebel no more.
MORAL.
It's hop'd this will not be forgot
By those who form'd the Tunbridge Plot;
Old Aesop was a Man of Sense,
Such Doctrines never did dispense,
That People should refuse Support,
And pine themselves to starve the Court.
FAB. III. The Hermit and the Soldier.
A Pious Hermit seeing a Man of Blood
Come strutting thro' his solitary Wood,
Accosts him thus: Dear Brother, why do you
In Human Blood and Gore your Hands imbrue?
Leave off that Trade, be 'Partner in my Cell,
Read, pray, and think, and save your Soul from Hell.
The Soldier look'd stern,
But at last did reply,
I am wiling to learn,
And G—zds I'll comply.
We Men of the Sword
Are not worth a T —d,
But are basely kept under,
Nor have Pay, nor have Plunder.
A plague on the Peace
Which makes our Gain cease:
And seeing it is so,
With the Hermit I'll go,
Till the Drums beat again, and the Trumpets do blow.
MORAL.
Just so the Jacks their desperate Cause forsake,
And to the side o'th' Commonwealth betake;
Since their own King has play'd the Foot, and's gone,
Ours to molest they turn up every Stone.
The Church, the Church, is ready to fire,
Is all their Out-cry: Brethren, save the Quire,
Take care a'th' Steeple, Chancel, Surplice, Crape,
The Church of England Dov's in danger of a Rape,
No thanks to them she did from Father Peter's scape:
Yet when their Prince, and's Priests shall venture over,
Theyll swear she is no Chast nor Turtle Lover,
But did to others her fair Breasts discover;
Then they will be for Common-wealth no more,
But screw Prerogative high as before,
Huff like N—S—r, crackle like B—S—wer.
FAB. IV. The Ass in the Lion's Skin.
A Certain Ass being struck with Shame
Of's native Slavery, and his Name,
Made shift to steal a Lion's Skin,
And boldly stalk'd about therein;
Shook off his innate sluggish Pace,
And did assume an awful Face,
As if h' had been of Lybian Bree'd,
And from the Bastinado freed.
But's curs'd Ears, and Cathedral Note,
To his great Grief, reveal'd the Plot;
For when he did attempt to roar,
He could not do't, but bray'd just as before.
MORAL.
Thus Non-resistance thinks't no Sin
To put on a true Patriot's Skin,
And plead for Liberty and Laws,
And easie Tax. But mark, the Cause;
He would the Government disable,
And lose the Ship for want, of Cable,
And by this means it comes to pass,
We know the old Passive Obedience Ass.
FAB. V. The Wolf and Hedgehog.
A Greedy Wolf that ravag'd Hills and Plains,
Devour'd the Flocks, and beggar'd all the Swains,
Triumph'd and skipp'd. But Plenty, causing waste,
At length he knew not where, to break his Fast;
But in his Range meets with a Porcupine,
A curious Bit to make, Lycaon dine:
His eager Chaps would fain been at the Prey,
But the arm'd Hedgehog held him at a Bay.
Hungry Lycaon seeing this, cries out,
My little Brother, how comes this about?
Have you forgot the late concluded Peace,
That you do still your Armour wear,
As if there were new Cause of Fear?
Lay by your Darts, and let War cease,
You cannot think that I will break the League.
And Brother-Brutes surprize by false Intrigue.
Nay, Hay, says Hedgehog, Brother, I don't say
That you will me or other Brutes betray;
But ne'ertheless it doth appear,
While you have Tusks, there's Cause of Fear:
Let me first draw your Teeth, and Sans Delay,
I'll throw my Quiver, and my Darts away.
MORAL.
Thus crafty Jacks do plead our Cause,
Arm'd Troops in Time of Peace, subvert our Laws:
Lay down your Arms and then we swear,
That our brave Prince will soon appear;
La Hogue you know is very near.
But since Van Trump, and bold De Rutter,
With Ball and Powder made such splutter,
He's as much afraid of Sword and Bomb,
As was his Grandsire in his Grandame's Womb.
Disband your Troops therefore we pray,
The Nation cannot bear your Pay.
Then come the Wolves o'er from Campeigne,
And carry all, the Sheep away;
Then will our Prince, like Mars in warlike Guise,
Encamp at Hounslow to shoot Butterflies.
No Man can say that he will break the Law,
Or us by Standing-Armies over-awe;
Since it is clear, as e'er was Light of Sun,
His Army never stood but always run.
Let no foul Tongue our Valorious Prince disgrace,
For he in Person always won the Race:
The Boyn's fair Flood, and Sarum's spacious Plain,
Will this great Truth far evermore maintain.
FAB. VI. The Fox caught in a Trap.
A Certain Fox being caught in Trap,
Did lose his Tail by the Mishap.
And cried Alas!
For, his Disgrace,
He could not shew Face,
Nor follow the Chase:
But yet, says he, tho' Reynards do beguile
The other Brutes by some fly Trick and Wile;
I do not know that Foxes are exempted
From being fool'd too, if they're fitly tempted.
Then let me go try,
And briskly apply
My Wits, to deceive,
And make Foxes believe,
That the Burden of their Tail,
In Rain, Snow or Hail,
Is intolerably grievous,
And in Hunting Mischievous.
If by this Means I can but prevail,
To have every Fox cut off his own Tail,
Then none of 'em at me will mock, scoff or rail.
Away Reynard goes,
His design to propose.
Says Fathers and Mothers,
Dear Sisters and Brothers,
Don't flout, jeer and mock,
At my mangled Dock:
You know that your Tails,
But little avails,
When you leap over Pales,
To catch Sheep and Fowls;
Then do not like Owls,
Thus burden your Back,
By a thing you might lack.
How brisk and how fine
Am I without mine?
The rest perceiving what his Motive was;
Told him good Brother this will never pass.
When we'r hunted by Dogs,
O'er Hills, and through Bogs.
On our Tails we do Piss,
And their Chops do not miss.
And this was the cause made the Proverb prevail,
He hath got a flap with the Fox's Tail,
Then cease Brother Fox,
If we mangle our Docks.
As you do propose,
We're expos'd to our Foes.
MORAL.
Thus the curs'd Crew who have themselves undone,
And from their Reason, Sense, and Interest run,
Would gladly have us caught in that same Trap;
I'll Men would fain have Brethren in mishap.
FAB. VII. The Fox Preaching to the Sheep.
A Ravening Wolf the Sheep-Cotes did invade,
And there set up his Butcher's Shambles;
Where without trouble of Preambles,
He kill'd whatever came to hand.
A sturdy Mastiff by the Farmer laid
In the same Fold, preserv'd the Sheep,
So that in Safety they could sleep,
And feed, with quite in their Masters Land.
The Fox who us'd with Wolf to diet,
And on the tender Lambs to riot;
Perceiving this,
Says Monsieur Wolf, I am not able
To live at such an ill-spread Table.
Were it amiss,
That I should go and tell the Sheep,
The Mastiff Dog that doth them keep
Lives on their Blood;
That he and's Master every Day,
With joint consent divide the Prey,
And make the Sheep their Food.
Wolf answers, Reynard, that is good,
Go tell the Sheep that they should cease
To cloth their Master with their Fleece;
Except he will his Dog remove,
For such a Guard they do not love
In time of Peace.
The Fox gets in amongst the Flock,
And with sly Oratry thus spoke.
Good Men of Mutton.
What do ye with this Mastiff Dog,
He is a mercenary Rogue
Not worth a Button?
For on pretnce of keeping guard,
Your Flesh and Bones are his Reward:
Get him cashier'd.
The Wolf and I have sworn the Peace,
And our Hostilities must cease,
Noughts to be fear'd
By him, his Master in disguise
Means o're the Flocks to Tyrannize
On my Salvation.
As I'm a true Son of the Church,
I would not leave you in the Lurch,
Of such Damnation.
The bleating Herd began ro grumble,
For Raynard's Logick, made them stumble,
And thus they said:
In Faith the Wolf and Fox we see
Are Enemies to Tyranny;
Their Council ought to be obey'd.
Since Ned the Wolf, and Batt the Fox,
Are our good Friends, than what a Pox
Should we be plagu'd with Curs.
We will no more our Fleeces yield,
Nor have our Lambs tore from the Field,
Let's to our Zeal add Spurs:
And for our Spokesman chuse a Ram,
Or sturdy Goat to Swear and Damn.
And 'curse Dissenters.
Our greatest Dangers from the Whigs,
And cause they will not pay Tithe Pigs,
The Wolf and Fox on them shall have Debentures.
Content says Fox, and there's my Hand,
I'll publish this in Woolfish-land;
Farewell dear Sheep.
The Wolf and I will guard your Cotes,
And pull out the Dissenters Throats;
But unto you our promise keep.
The Flock by Renyard thus perswaded,
That Dog and Farmer them invaded,
Straight left the Fido.
Did thro' the Hills and Valleys stray,
And from their Guard did run away;
Left him to starve for want of pay:
But mark the end.
The Wolf and Fox, having prevail'd
The scatter'd Flocks straight they assail'd,
And did them all in pieces rend.
MORAL.
It's hop'd the Sheep of North and West,
Who to the Parliament make haste,
The Moral will teach;
Which is no more
Then the Proverb of Yore.
Let the Geese look to't when the Fox doth preach.
FAB. VII. The Fable of the Spunge.
A Certain Brewer whose Liquor of Life,
Did frequently amongst his Servants raise strife,
Resolv'd to abridge them, giving each Man his share,
Enough to suffice but nothing to spare:
But the Servants resolving they would not be stinted,
Put their Wits on the Rack, and this Device minted.
They got Gloves of Spunge which they thrust in the Liquor,
And squeezing them often spent their Nasters Stock quicker:
Which the Brewer understanding, he seiz'd on the Spunges;
Made his Servants repay him, and with Actions them swinges:
Till he had squeez'd back his own, and taught them to be true,
To leave off their slie Cheats, and be content with their Due.
MORAL.
Those that misapply the Treasure of the Nation,
Ought thus to be squeez'd till they make reparation:
We may Tax, and pay on, and the King still be poor.
If the Hands of his Servants be pitch'd as before.
It's the Interest of the Nation, our Senate understands,
That those who touch Cash should have clean washen hands.
FAB. IX. The Trumpeter.
A Trumpeter, who by his Fatal Sounds,
Provok'd Mankind to mutual Blood and Wounds;
Being ta'ne in Field did for his Life implore:
I sound the Charge said he, but do no more.
The Conquerour grew enrag'd at this Defence;
Replies, base Villain, I'll Dispatch thee hence,
Down to the Stygian Shades; dost thou not know
That he who counsels Murder, gives the blow.
MORAL.
The Fable hits those who in former Reigns,
For love of Faction, or for love of Gains,
Did teach our Monarchs a Despotick Sway,
And damm'd the People that would not obey:
These were the Firebrands of the Church and State,
And did more Mischief than Jack Straw or Kett:
They caus'd the Wa [...], and that brought on the Tax,
Then let the weight of't fall on their own Backs;
Why should the Peoples Blood and Treasure pay
To rescue that which Priesecraft did betray,
The Priests advanc'd the Popeling to the Throne;
The Priests again did force him to be gone;
And now the Priests, like Turn-coats, as before,
Chuse Jacks for Senate with Canonick Roar:
And Churches danger slily would infer,
From our great King who bravely rescued her.
FAB. X. The Lion and the Ass.
IT once came to pass,
That the Lion and the Ass,
Did meet in a great Consultation;
When the King of the Brutes,
To the dullest of Mutes,
Did seriously make Application.
True Roger, quoth he,
Do but hearken to me,
And I swear I will highten thy Fortune.
Thou art now a dull Beast,
But I'll make the High Priest,
And the rest shall no more dare thee sport on.
Good Soveraign say on,
Quoth Roger anon,
For I am quite weary of Slavery:
I swear by St. Peter
If you'l give me a Mitre
I'll serve you, be't Roguery or Knavery.
I thank you, says Lion,
Thy word I'll rely on;
The Service that I then command thee,
Is to teach that I must govern,
Like an Absolute Sovereign,
And that those will be damn'd that withstand me.
Agreed, says the Ass,
I will bring it to pass,
And have passive Obedience in fashion;
They shall all be call'd Traitors,
And Monarchy-haters,
From the Pulpits and Desks of the Nation.
But it happen'd that the King,
Harp'd on another String,
And invaded the Rights of the Asses.
Then Roger turn'd tail,
'Gainst his Sovereign did rail,
In his Preachments, his Prayers and Glasses.
MORAL.
Thus Tyrant Princes did make use of Priests,
Their Subjects to transform from Men to Beasts.
The time's well known, you need not ask me when,
But e're from Beasts they turn to Men again,
The Priests must be reform'd; such Reformation
Is th' only Remedy can save the Nation.
AESOP Return'd from TUNBRIDGE.
THE PREFACE.
AESOP, it seems, has been a little disturb'd of late, and it has been argu'd Pro & Con, amongst the Virtuosi, whether his Indisposition was the effect of Tunbridge Waters, or Company. He himself has absolv'd the Waters, and condemn'd the Company, which has oblig'd 'em in their own Justification to send him to Bedlam to have his own Brains set right, for endeavouring to rectifie theirs.
Since his Retirement two more have started up from Bathe and Whitehal, that, like the two Demerrius's in Muscovy, need only be seen to discover the Imposture. But to avoid the Fate of their Predecessors [Page] of Tunbridge, they have taken Measures very different from his, and to save Dr. Ty—n the trouble of Purging their Brains, have agreed to carry none about 'em.
Ʋpon these comes yet another; whether with better Title than the former, is a question, Reader, we leave thee to decide. Only I shall take the liberty to give thee some Hints, for the better Information of thy Judgment. First then as to his Person, it has resemblance enough to Old Aesop's (or the Pisture of him, at least, at Planudes, and others, have drawn it) that had he left any Legitimate Issue behind him, Ours might very well plead his Figure in evidence of his Descent from the Old Beau of Samos; and the Posture and Condition of their Intellects, make out the Relation betwixt him and the Bully of Tunbridge. For this confesses himself out of his Wits when he writ, and t'other, by universal Consent, mad to Write what he writ.
But let me whisper one thing in thy Ear, upon condition of secresy, if thou wilt give me thy Word and Honour not to disclose it to any Body, I'll assure thee they were both Mad, and so much the fitter for the Task they have undertaken. For who the De—l [Page] but a Madman would venture to write Truth at this time of Day? To deal frankly, the Old Fellow before 'em was much such another sort of Spark. He either had, or thought he had Wit, which is much at one to an Author, and could never leave shewing his Brains, till a parcel of Blockheads knockt 'em out. He took his Hint from the Women of his Time, who did as they do now, every one that cou'd be convinc'd by her Glass, that she was no Beauty, set up for a Wit; and if she cou'd not please People with her Face, cou'd vex 'em with her Tongue, which was equivalent as to point of Self-satisfaction. For let either Vanity or Malice be gratified, and we are well enough. But as I was saying, Aesop imitated the Women in that Piece of Cunning; for 'tis apparent he cou'd not the Men, for they have n't learnt that Craft yet to Piece out the Defects of their Persons with a Superfluity of Ʋnderstanding. But e'ery Humpback't, Hard-fac'd Scare-crow is dress'd up in a Lac'd-Coat and a Long Wig, to set off it's Deformity, and make it more gloriously Ridiculous; and the fine empty Thing, that Nature made, as the Chinese do their Bawbles, for the Ornament of a Drawing-Room, is perpetually endeavouring [Page] to squeeze it self into the Press, and labouring in Dull Madrigal, or Scurvy Lampoon, to expose it's own want of Wit, and it's Friend's, and not content with the Reputation of a Fool amongst its Acquaintance, must publish it in Print to the World.
But what's all this, Reader, to thee and I, that be sure have more Wit? These Aesop's are Perillous Bold Fellows, and have Plaguy Tongues: But what of that? Let the Beast that is gall'd, wince; and let thee and I laugh to see 'em kick and sling like Ralpho's Ass with a Thistle under his Tail, 'tis nothing to us, that have (as I said before) Wit, then to come within the reach of one's Tongue, or t'others Heels: And so I take my leave of thee.
AESOP Return'd from TUNBRIDGE.
FAB. I. Aesop sent to Bedlam.
AESOP o'ercome with Wind and Spleen,
At Tunbridge sought relief;
In hopes that change of Air, and Scene,
Might ease him of his Grief.
But there such Shoals of Fools he met,
And Knaves twice dipt in Grain;
Not the fam'd Waters they were at,
Cou'd e're take out the Stain.
In vain a Friend among the Youth
He sought all Tunbridge round;
Till sneaking Solitary Truth
He in a Corner found.
Thus met, they readily agree,
And did strange Tales devise,
Lab'ring to make those Coxcombs see,
That wou'd put out their Eyes.
Till netled at their just Reproof,
The Knaves and Fools combine;
And him, and his Companion both
To a dark Room confine.
Next Stage, they knew not why nor how,
For London they were bound:
Where both of 'em together now,
In Bedlam may be found.
In vain we strive Mens Error to correct,
Or point out Follies, which themselves neglect.
Fools are a stubborn Race, and hard to break
Wisdom's the only Gift they scorn to take;
And he that shews his Brains to such a Rout,
Takes a fair way to have 'em beaten out.
Wise Men in them alone mistake their Tools,
Knaves only have the skill to manage Fools.
Let empty Fops be proud of their Mishaps,
For he that takes it off, deserves the Cap.
FAB. II. The Wolf and Porcupine.
A Hungry Wolf, that long'd to Dine
Upon a well fed Porcupine,
Found he had need of all his Skill.
To taste the Flesh, and scape the Quill:
And therefore slily thus addrest,
In Fawning Terms, the wary Beast.
What is it Neighbour that you fear?
What Enemy? what danger's near?
What means this Magazine of Arms,
When Treaties sign'd secure from Harms?
When all Hostilities must cease,
Why such a Guard in Times of Peace?
Why will you now in Safety beat
The Burthen, and Expence of War?
To whom the crafty Beast reply'd,
These are not for Defence but Pride.
For truly, Neighbour, as you say,
They're useless at this time of Day,
And I shou'd be of your belief,
Cou'd I but see you draw your Teeth.
Fr—ce is the wheedling Wolf, 'tis plain,
That gapes for lucious Bit;
And we know who's the Porcupine,
But that she wants the Wit.
What need of Fleets, or Armies now,
That once were E—d's B [...]ast?
Fr—ce to our Articles will bow,
And guard the Spanish Coast.
Let us disarm our Men of War,
Since she such store equips;
She'll save us that Expence and Care,
And Convoy home our Ships.
The Preparations at Campeign,
And Brest, secure our Ports,
They'll spare us Fifty Thousand Men,
To Garrison our Forts.
FAB. III. The Fox and Grapes.
UPON a lusty Bunch of Grapes,
A liquorish Fox had fixt his Eyes,
Who licking of his wat'ring Chaps,
A thousand Tricks to reach it tries.
But all his Wiles in vain assay'd,
Out of all hopes of getting nigh,
What Fool for Unripe Trash, he said,
Would risque his Neek to clime so high?
That charming Fruit, (I dare alledge)
That looks so tempting and so fair,
Will set some Coxcomb's Teeth on edge,
Or draw some Fool into a Snare.
Ambitious Men that miss their Aim,
At least affect to be thought Wise,
And court the Popular Esteem,
By seeming honours to dispise.
Those whom the Mob their Patriots call,
Factions and Jealousies foment;
Masking with Common Good their Gall,
And Publick Zeal their Discontent,
To busie Courts at first they throng,
Till vext, and hopeless to prevail,
Or share in doing of the Wrong,
In Senates th'at Corruption rail,
Courtier or Patriot by turns,
The Hypocrite our Patience tries;
Disgrac'd, our Grievances he mourns,
Or laughs in place at Jealousies.
FAB. IV. The Priest and Pears.
A Wanton Sloven of a Priest,
Invited to a Bridal Feast,
Under a Hedge upon the Ground,
A Hoard of Mellow Pears had found.
These were, quoth he, to hungry Sinner,
That had no hopes of Wedding-Dinner,
Brave tempting Morsels, a rich Prize,
Which at this juncture I dispise,
Now to more Rarities engag'd,
Than e're in Noah's Ark were cag'd;
Fish, Fowl, Fruit, Sweet-meats to excite,
And rouse a Founder'd Appetite;
Therefore sweet Pears this time, adieu,
My Stomach will not stoop to you.
Yet e're we part we'll have a Jest,
Then scornfully he on 'em Pist,
And cry'd, who e're these Pears shall eat,
He shall have Sauce as well as Meat.
This done, impatient of delay,
He jocundly persu'd his Way,
Most happy in Imagination,
Chewing the Cud of Expectation.
Till to a Brook approaching nigh,
By Rains late fallen swell'd so high,
That 'twas impossible to pass;
His rumbling Stomach call'd him Ass.
And bid him Ford, or Swim the Flood,
And make his vapring Promise good,
Or, spight of all his Scoffs and Jeers,
He, Sauce and all, should eat the Pears.
The Priest, who Belly dearly lov'd,
At this Reproach was strangely mov'd;
Yet his unhappy case was such,
He hated Danger full as much.
At Disappointment sore dejected,
He sadly on the Pears reflected:
He was by Word and Honour bound
To stand to't, and maintain his ground.
And now the Pears so lovely grew,
That Water from both ends they drew.
He therefore all his cunning Bent,
To find out some Expedient,
To prove himself this once mistaken,
And save his Credit and his Bacon.
Inward he turn'd his sullen Looks,
And romaging o're all his Books,
He met an ancient Convocation,
That funish'd him with an Evasion.
Quoth he, they cou'd not be my due,
Nor might I seize 'em till I knew,
And Providence had time to prove,
This heap of Pears was Treasure trouve;
But now I plainly understand,
They truly are a Deodand;
And he that Abdicates 'em here,
Has lost all Title to one Pear.
And I should be a Fool no doubt,
Shou'd I stand any longer out.
As for the Stain I cast on these,
My self can wipe it off with ease.
FAB. V. The Ass and Spaniel.
A Weary Ass under his Pack,
Stood ty'd up to an empty Rack,
And spy'd a Spaniel brisk, and gay,
As in his Master's lap he lay,
That frisk'd about, and had the grace
To climb his Shoulders, lick his Face,
was always plentifully fed,
And from his hand receiv'd his Bread.
Hard difference betwixt, quoth he.
That happy, idle Cur, and Me.
He daily is with Dainties serv'd,
While I, that drudge for all, am starved.
But since he thrives so well by Play,
I'le try my Fortune the same way.
Thus having form'd his Resolution,
He waits a time for Execution.
Which found, erecting Tail, and Ears,
On Hinder-Feet himself he rears,
His Fore-Feet on his Master lays,
And with his Tongue besmears his Face.
The Man, who guess'd not his intent.
Nor dreamt of such a Compliment,
Surpriz'd, and vext, and half afraid,
To Servants calls aloud for aid,
To help him to correct th' Offence,
And sore chastise this Insolence.
And since Ass was so rampant grown
He bids 'em take his Commons down;
And henceforth bare Subsistance pay
Of half Allowance e're day.
The Ass thus mortify'd, and sore,
Vext for his Bones, but Belly more,
Cry'd, What a stupid Sor am I,
My Talent thus to misapply?
Who only for a Drudge am fit,
And yet must set up for a Wit.
Art may refine, and finish Nature's Fool,
But no Buffoon succeeds, that goes by Rule;
For Fooling prettily's a Gift of Nature's,
That sits but aukwardly on Imitators.
The lively, airy Marmouset, as soon
May be out-frolickt by the grave Baboon,
As Nature by dull Mimicks of the Town.
If Squirrel D—y frisk on his Beholders,
Must the Ass Gild—n ramp upon their Shoulders,
If Congreve flatter'd M —nt—gue before,
Must be by Gild—n too be slaver'd o're?
No wonder Sots, when we this Clod caress,
Presume to claim the Dues of neat Address.
Such Poets shou'd at Westminster untruss,
And there receive the meed of Chaerilus;
Yet I cou'd spare the Sot, whoe're repines.
Cou'd he like him produce but seven good Lines.
But he expects Rewards, to blaze our Shame,
For daring to buffoon a mighty Name.
Let others judge, if he deserves the Rod,
Who treats his Patron worse eve'n than his God.
What other Names will this vile Wretch blaspheme?
For 'tis a Libel to be prais'd by him.
But he now feels the Fate he does deserve,
And knows already what it is to starve.
Henceforth, ye Great, tender your Reputations,
Your Honours suffer by such Dedications
With Justice we may pay for Kneller's hand,
But who at Charges wou'd on Sign-posts stand?
If then the Author's dull to such degree,
How stupid must the Sol that pays him be?
FAB. VI. The Grashopper and the Ant.
A Grashopper once thus accosted an Ant.
You know, Sir, what we Men of Quality want,
'Tis the Favor to lend me some Grains of your Store,
For, Faith, at this minute, I am very poor.
This Summer's Expences have drawn me so low,
I can scarce in the Park make my Figure, I vow.
This comes on't, reply'd the frugal grave Citt,
When Extravagance only's the measure of Wit.
Had your Parents but bred you to Business, your Parts
Might have got an Estate, now you have your Deserts.
Says the Grashopper, what wou'd you have me to do,
I'm not made for Work, besides I'm a Bean;
I Sing, and I Dance, and all the fine Weather.
I'm at Epsom or Tunbridge, or Bath, chuse you whether
Ask all the Be [...]u Monde, and the Ladies if e're
They had Musick, or Ball, if I was not there.
E'ry Evening I my Compliment made.
And treated with many a fine Serenade.
'Tis pity the Ladies, quoth Ant, not to rally,
Don't commiserate one, Sir, of your belle taillè,
Your Youth, nor Estate neither of 'em can tarry,
Look Sharp, Sir, about for a Fortune, and Marry,
For Trading's so dead, and our Taxes so hard,
Not a Farthing can out of our Business be spar'd
But comfort! The Fleet, or King's-Bench, if you ask it,
Will find you a Lodging, and Meat from the Basket.
MORAL.
Fops that would starve far want of Sense,
Petticoat Refugees,
Ought much to thank that Providence,
Which made 'em Women please.
Swarms that had Rotted in Jayl.
Yet want Sense to pay
Thanks to that Smock that was their Bail,
But throw't like a Rag away.
Yet luckless thousands still contrive
To spread like Butterflies,
That like Beau Atkinson must liue,
Or like Beau Norton die,
FAB. VII. The Ass and Iupiter.
A Gard'ner had a lazy Ass
That hated a hard working place,
And offer'd his Petition
To Jove, with many a Sigh, and Groan,
Which mov'd him by continu'd moan
To pity his Condition,
Jove, when his unjust pray'r had heard,
Next to a Potter him preferr'd;
At which in Consternation,
The Ass once more in doleful Dumps,
Falling again upon his Stumps,
Renews his Supplication.
Grant me my Suit once more, Great Jove
Says he, I'll ask no third remove,
From any third Disaster;
What e're you order, I'm content
To undergo the Punishment
Of any other Master.
Oh! cou'd You but this Grace afford!
The God straight took him at his word,
And plac'd him with a Tanner;
The Ass grown wise, when 'twas too late,
Bewails his Folly, and his Fate,
In lamentable manner.
What with the Gard'ner did I lack,
My Belly-full, at ease my Back?
The Potter gave me: quarter.
But this third Service I am in,
Will strip me of my very Skin,
And make me Folly's Martyr.
A murmuring Mind is ne'r content,
With any sort of Government;
And Princes strive in vain to please,
Such restless Sp'rits as know no ease.
When Taxes make Malecontent,
Whom Wealth, and Pow'r, made Insolent;
What Measures must a Ruler take,
To spare his Back, and save his Neck?
In vain they kick at Slavery,
Who grudge the charge of being free.
FAB. VIII. The Owl and Bat.
A Fierce dispute 'twixt Birds of Night
Arose about their Gifts, and Light;
The Owl and Bat aloud contended,
Which was by Nature best befriended,
Wrangling with clamorous Contest
Which saw the clearest, and the best;
Till from high Words, and angry Speeches,
They came to Personal Reproaches.
Quoth Madge, insulting o're the Bat.
What wou'd this Flitter-Mouse be at?
Thou Mungrel Vermine art at most,
And but half Bird thy self canst boast.
The Bat reply'd with indignation,
Make to your self the Application;
You're some Beast's Bastard it appears,
As I'll demonstrate by your Ears.
But what is this to our Dispute,
If I am Vermine, you're a Brute.
Then let's agree, the Owl reply'd,
And by the Sun our Cause betry'd.
A Nightingale that hard by sate,
Thus undertook to Arbitrate:
How shall the Sun decide your Case,
When neither can endure his Face?
You've said enough of Bats and Owls,
To prove both purblind Knaves and Fools.
The Bats, and Owls, of Pinner's-Hall,
This Fable may apply;
These Night-Birds representing all
The Pastors, and their Fry.
If any wou'd know, whom they fit,
Their Contraversies read;
And see how oft the Sticks are split,
To break each other's Head,
But let 'em not the Truth come near,
Nor venture into Light;
For He that does barefac'd appear,
Will shew a Hypocrite.
While they against each other bawl,
They the whole World convince.
And plainly shew their wa [...]t to all
Of Faith, as well as Sense.
FAB. IX. Sharpers and Cullies.
TWo Sharpers once to Gameing fell,
In a large Company;
And manag'd their Intrigue so well,
They drew in Standers by.
They wrangl'd, quarrel'd, and call'd names,
And play'd with so much heat;
That no one jealous of a sham,
Suspected 'twas a Cheat,
But when the Gamesters num'rous grew,
And store of Cullies came;
Each from the other took his cue,
To manage right his Game.
A long time doubtful was the Scale,
The odds uncertain were;
For they do all by turns prevail.
And none great losers are.
Till e'ry one at length was dipt,
And mighty summs were laid;
The wink, one of the Jugglers tipt,
And so the Cheat betray'd.
But this discovery came to late,
For now the Game was wone;
An empty Pocket was their Fate,
And all the Fools undone.
Ex— B-nk, and the Exchange,
East-Indians Old and New,
And all the World this very Game,
Too busily pursue.
Notes, Bills and Stock, and Actions fall,
Or without Reason rise;
Just as the Jugglers at Wh—hal,
Or M—cer's Chappel please.
The great One's have Sham fallings out,
To draw the Lesser in;
But the true Quarrel is, not who,
But how much each shall win.
And when the small One's give their Voice,
Who shall be most Empowr'd;
They have but Liberty of Choice,
By whom they'l be devour'd.
FAB. X. The Wolf and Dog.
A Half famisht Wolf met a jolly fat Dog,
That was let out for Air, and free'd from th' Clog.
Quoth Isgrim, Friend Towzer, thou hast what I lack,
How com'st thou by all this good Flesh on thy back?
Says Towzer, I lodge, and am fed at Wh—hal,
I live like a Prince, and do nothing but bawl.
You live like a Felon, by paltry Sheep-stealing,
But if you'l be rul'd, and use double-dealing,
I'll help you to mighty Preferment at C—rt.
And you shall pay nothing, but Flattery for't.
Quoth Isgrim, I like the Conditions so well,
I long till I'm there, for I soon shou'd excel;
I can cringe like a Beau, and humour My Lord,
And praise e'ry foppish Nonsensical word.
'Tis enough, says the Cur; so onward they jogg'd.
Till Towzer, who often was collar'd and clogg'd,
Like a Cur of good Manners in bowing betray'd
The Ring on his Neck, which the Collar had made.
Says the crafty fly Wolf, in that Circle some Spell
I suppose is contain'd, by which you live well.
'Tis only, says Towzer, ne'r mind it I pray,
Some loose hair my Collar has fretted away.
Says Isgrim, I owe you, Sir, thanks for this gra [...]e,
But if there's a Collar, that alters the case.
I'll purchase my Place by by no such submission,
But forrage the Woods, and not alter Condition.
The Wealth, and the Pow'r of great Places please all,
Who wou'd shun the Fatigue, they're encumber'd withall.
They wou'd have the Profit without the Attendance,
And shift of the burden of slavish dependance.
But here they may see by the Wolf, and the Dog,
They that will have the Fat, must submit to the Clog.
FAB. XI. False Piety.
A Sick Man lay at point of Death,
Just ready to resign his Breath.
Hard by the Bed his tender Wife
Stood, weeping, with Outrageous Grief;
Waiting the Moment that should six,
And make her his Executrix.
She wrung her Hands, and tore her Hair,
And put up many a fervent Prayer.
Will Cruel Death, she raving cry'd,
No other Way be satisfy'd?
Oh! will ye on no Terms relent?
Will he take no Equivalent?
So far below thee Life I prize,
I'll be thy willing Sacrifice.
Remorsless Death, attend my Call,
Who thy devoted Victim fall.
All this, Death was at hand, and heard;
Obey'd the Summons, and appear'd.
The Wife, who thought of nothing less,
Confounded at his Readiness.
Surpriz'd, amaz'd, and Terrify'd,
Straight snatch'd the Candle up, and cry'd;
Pray, let me light you, Sir; I know
Your Errand, and will wait on you.
My Husband's Time; alas! is come,
And he lies ready in the Room:
His Doctors too have done you Wrong,
To keep him from you, here, thus long.
MORAL.
Where Int'rest rules, and Profit lies at Stake,
All sorts of People large Professions make.
But, as in Trade, when Men on Credit buy,
The Wise sispect their Pay that bid too high:
So in all Obligations that include
More than a Favour's worth in Gratitude,
False we conclude, or rash the Vows they make;
And only upon Force their Words we take.
So have we known, not many Ages since,
By Sham-Caresses, a deluded Prince
Indulge his Foes; and to their Measures yield,
Wo did his Ruin on his Favour build.
We know, when Words were wanting to express
The Timpany of Zeal in each Address,
The Trifles Blood and Treasure, to a Drop,
Devoted were, and daily offer'd up:
The crouded Gazettes did a loud proclaim
The hollow Promises, that thronging came
But when his Wants their real Aid requir'd,
And he their boasted Services desir'd,
Th' Ʋngrateful Vipers lusty grown, and strong,
The Bosom, in Return, that warm'd 'em, stung;
Happy was he that first could get away,
And him, they promis'd to support, betray.
FAB. XII. The Wolf turn'd Preacher.
A Wolf, whom Health and Strength had left,
Was fallen into Want;
Unable to subsist on Theft,
Resolv'd to be a Saint.
In a short Cloak, and little Band,
The New-converted Preacher,
By Means of Formal Tone, and Cant,
Was grown a famous Teacher.
Shoals of the Mob he daily caught,
With Sin-confounding Texts, Sirs:
No precious, painful Brother taught
More Edifying Lectures.
At length a Rake-Hell of the Wood,
That had found out his Haunt,
Cry'd, Thou wilt make, Old Ne'er be Good,
The Devil of a Saint.
Come, lay the Masquerade aside,
And let your Comrade know
What Roguery you hide,
That's worth Transforming so.
Oh! quoth the Old Apostate Wolf,
Thy lewd Dicentious Ear
Is scarce yet sanctifi'd enough,
These precious Truths to hear.
Like you I rang'd at large; and none
More rampant was, while young:
But now my Teeth and heels are gone,
I For age with my Tongue.
I wheedle, flatter, cant, and pray;
Dessemble, fawn, and lye:
The sily Rout think all I say
Meer Gospel-Verity.
To me all trust; both Young, and Old;
Smooth Kids, and tender Lambs:
I have the Culling of the Fold,
And milking of the Dams.
You may perchance a Lamb surprize;
But if you should be seen,
The parish, with their Curs, would rise,
And strip you of your Skin.
MORAL.
Let empty Fops of Play-house Conquest vaunt,
And toast the Lass that did the Favour grant:
Beau's may by vain, and feign'd Intrigues recite;
But the true Letcher, is, the Hypocrite.
And B—g-ss, in his Tub, debauches more
Than ever Meggs did on that Spot before.
The godly have the Gifts, the Wicked want;
For Scandal only's sinful in a Saint.
Thy Maids their brawny Pastour's Silence trust;
And make them Heroes in Records of Lust.
For this Moor-Feilds and Tunbridge must be priz'd;
But Cr—o, B—ll and Wallis Canoniz'd.
FAB. XIII. The Satyr and the Traveller.
I.
TO his poor Cell a Satyr led
A Traveller, with Cold half dead;
And with great Kindness treated:
A Fire, Nose-high, he made him straight;
Show'd him his Elbow-Chair of State,
And near the Chimney seated.
II.
His tingling Hands the Stranger blows;
At which the Satyr wond'ring, rose,
And humbly ask'd the Reason.
Sir, quoth the Man, I mean no Harm;
I only do't, my Hands to warm,
In this Cold, Frosty Season.
III.
The Satyr gave him, from the Pot,
A mess of Porridge, piping hot:
The Man blow'd o'er his Grewel.
What's that for, Friend? the Satyr cry'd.
To cool my Broth, his Guest reply'd:
And Truth, Sir, is a Jewel.
IV.
How! quoth his Host; Then is it so?
And can you Contradictions blow?
Turn out, and leave my Cottage.
This honest Mansion ne'er shall hold
Such Rascals as blow Hot and Cold:
The De'il must find you Pottage.
MORAL.
The C—'s desir'd, that in their next Choice.
They'd be pleas'd, from this Fable, to take good Advice:
For a man that two Churches at once has in view,
Shams both in their turns, and to neither is true.
AESOP AT AMSTERDAM.
Epistle Dedicatory, TO Old AESOP at Whitehal, &c.
FATHER,
WHERE the Devil have you been all this while? It is now ever since the fifty fourth Olympiad you dy'd at Delphos, and to arise again at Whitehal is very remarkable. I am now apt to believe the Doctrine of Transmigration, and that your Soul having past the Habitations of the Bodies of the Horse, the Ass, and other Beasts, you'r now informing the Body of a Courtier. Good Dad! don't come too near me, you stink most damnably of Sulphur, I'm almost suffocated. You have been lamentably paid off in t'other Country; your Clothes are horridly bedawb'd with liquid Bitumen, Links, Flambeaux and Card-matches; you make a very indifferent Figure indeed Father. What Country you have been in I can't tell, but by your new Fables I find you have liv'd under a Monarchical Government, and are mightily in love with it, as are my Two elder Brothers of Tunbridge and Bathe; but you youngest Son, my Right Worshipful self, begs your Pardon if he don't jump with you and the rest of his Brethren in their Notions of Government. You can't [Page] tell, Father, what a lamentable spot of work you have made with the Fables you wrote the first time you liv'd; the sower Pedagogues have made the blind Cheeks of many a Boy as raw as a piece of Beef, because they could not understand 'em; nay I have been persecuted my self upon the same account. Besides, Sir, your Fables have been the foundation of abundance of Lies; your Book serves instead of a Charter to the Mythologists of all Ages; you stand in competition even with the Devil himself, which shall be the reputed Father of Liars. And one would think after you had slept so many Years, your Consultation with your Pillow might have afforded you better Thoughts. 'Tis pity, Father, you and I should fall out after so long absence; but you ought to allow us that live upon the surface of the Terrestrial Globe, to see farther than you, who have been so many Years embowel'd in the Caverns of the Earth: Indeed, Father, I would advise you to return home again unless you had brought better Notions with you from t'other Country; for those possest with your Notions here, we esteem either Stupid or Mad. Now being in this place, Father, and breathing in a free Air, I can talk of nothing but Freedom, Liberty and Property, I hope, if it does offend the Assertors of Tyranny, they'll consider I am in a common Asylum, and out of their reach.
AMSTERDAM
AESOP AT AMSTERDAM.
FAB. I. The Summons.
THE mighty Puss, not long since rul'd the State,
Beneath a lonesom Furzbush purring sat;
Stroak'd her long Smellers, and rejoic'd to see
Her awful Picture in her Progeny:
Mean while her Kitlings dance before her face,
And toss, like trembling Mice, the Roots of Grass.
Not one amongst 'em but a Claw does wear,
Fit a Monarchic Tyrant Rat to tear.
The Good old Cause inform'd the Mother's Breast,
Darts through their Eyes, is by their mein exprest.
Such, such the antient Race of Heroes were,
Who did their Rights before their Lives prefer.
She calls one to her, of the eldest brood;
Dost know, said she, how drown'd in native Blood
My Country lies? how the wild Boars invade
The Land, and desart have my Country laid?
'Tis true, I once did ease 'em of their Pain;
But they, like Fools, embrac'd again the Chain;
Wear those dull Fetters I so kindly broke,
And halt, like Slaves, beneath the servile Yoke.
Once more I'll try, if my Advice may prove
Successful, once exert my antient Love;
Summon the Slaves to meet at Whitehal Gate,
Beneath the Scaffold where I whilom sate,
And punish Tyranny, the worst of Crimes;
A just example unto future Times.
Young Puss the Message takes, and bids fair warning
To all the Slaves t'appear the next Morning.
FAB. II. The Interview.
THE Morning come, the Slaves await,
And flock like Bees 'bout Whitehal Gate.
Some yoak'd, like Country Hogs appear;
Others confounded Fetters wear,
And some most horrid Burdens bear.
Thus loaded, thus enslav'd, opprest;
Nature, 'tis strange, don't call for rest:
Tho legs are gall'd, and shouldiers sore,
The bulky Slaves still crave for more:
And not an Ideot of the Town
Has sense to lay his Burden down.
Strait Puss in majesty appears,
Mounting the Scaffold, pricks her Ears,
Shakes her Majestick Head, aloud
She thus bespoke the num'rous Crowd.
I have deserted long the nauseous Town,
Mourning my Country's Ruin, and my own
Expos'd to Tyranny, whilst Beasts of prey
Ravage my Fields, and steal my Lambs away.
My Free-born Subjects now are forc'd to bear
Loads, which more fit for backs of Camels are;
You well deserve the Fetters you do wear.
You under heavy iron Shakels pine,
Whose Fathers did in glorious Armour shine,
Thro' fields of Blood to Freedom cut their way,
And taught the proudest Tyrants to obey;
By me supported, potent Tyrants fell
A Sacrifice to their just Cause and Hell;
No more, no more their sacred Linage stain,
No more their Name in your curst Race profane.
Let not their Off-spring such Alliance have,
Shakles were ne're the Trophies of the Brave;
They could wide Conquests, and just Honours boast,
But you, dull Slaves! have all your Freedom lost.
Where e're a Tyrant rais'd his impious Head,
Strait their bold Hands strook the damn'd Monst'r dead
Had you a spark of ancient Honour left,
You should not long be of thy Aid bereft;
My Claws are hard and sharp as e're they were,
As fit a Tyrant and his Rats to tear.
The Villains that support a Tyrant Crown,
This angry Tail will horridly sweep down;
Shake off your Fetters once, and you shall see,
I'll once more save you from curst Slavery.
She said, and away gallop'd amain,
But in hopes they their Sense would recover again;
For a Doctor will never the Fatigue endure.
To heal such dull Blockheads, that don't love the Cure.
FAB. III. The Frogs Concern.
A Generous Race of croaking Frogs,
Which lay entrench't betwixt two Bogs.
Who as the morning Sun did shine,
Daily encreast their stock divine;
Just as the Solar Influence burn'd,
Prolifick spawn to Life was turn'd,
Until the young ones had at length
An equal Vigor, equal Strength.
So numerous at length they prove,
They supplicate mighty Jove;
A King and Governour they crave,
As other Beasts and Insects have:
But Jove allow'd all Mortal Elves,
To chuse a Monarch for themselves.
The Croaking Elders now consult
About a King, and the Result
Was, that a neighb'ring Log should be
Executor of Monarchy.
About the Log their Heads they raise,
In sounds uncouth they croak his Praise:
At length some crawl upon his Top,
And frisk about, and croak and hop:
Says one Frog, Here's fine business done,
Was e're a King thus trampl'd one?
'Troth, says another antient Frog,
We'll ne'r be govern'd by a Log;
The heat at length so far arose,
They did the Loggerhead depose.
To new Election they proceed,
And to their Hearts content succeed;
A neighbouring Stork at length they chose,
Which shou'd their Heats and Feuds compose:
He took upon him the Command
Of all the People in Frogland;
But he as t'other 'fore had done,
Made it an Arbitrary Throne;
Up from the Mud the Frogs would pick,
And squeeze their Corps within his Beak,
One Frog much wiser than the rest,
To these about him thus addrest:
Good Friends, this is confounded work;
Shall we be govern'd by a Stork;
To have our Bones in pieces torn,
Our young ones eat just as they'r born?
As if Kings only had a Power
To ruin Subjects and devour;
I think 'tis just to chuse agen:
The brood of Frogs all croak'd, Amen.
The next they chose was a dull Ass,
Which prov'd as bad as t'other was;
For tho' he was not so malicious,
His folly made him as pernicious;
Stumbling on Empire, oft he stood
Upon his Subjects choak's in Mud:
Whole beds of Spawn he did destroy,
At every flounce did Frogs annoy.
The Devil's in't, said one, for we
In chusing Kings still wretched be.
Thus often we have chose a King,
And still have found it the same thing.
FAB. IV. The Kees and the Hornet.
A Hive of Bees had plunder'd ev'ry Field,
And ev'ry Herb dees Wax or Hony yield:
Large Troops of Winged force they daily arm,
Large as the Flocks that about Hybla swarm;
From distant Fields did ev'ry Evening come,
Loaden with Sweets and wholsom Hony home:
Blest with abundant Wealth the Sworm do's thrive
Beneath the Blessings of a well-stock't Hive.
But Wealth and Luxury together go,
And Bees, when rich, do vain and wanton grow;
Pamper'd with Food, they loath their happy Face,
And Changlings like, attempt to change their State.
Large Herds they saw, as they abroad did rove,
Govern'd by Monarchs, by the leave of Jove.
They Jupiter invoke, that also he
Would please to favour them with Monarchy.
Jove from Olympus nodding gave consent,
And strait the Bees to an Election went.
An o'regrown Hornet in an Oaken-Tree,
Was what they choose, and must their Sov'raign be:
For Bulk and Valour was elected King,
The greatest Warrior ever drew a Sting.
His Paunch more Hony still did bear away
Then ten strong Bees could gather in a Day.
But what was worse, he often wou'd invite
His Family to dine and sup at Night:
His num'rous Fav'rites did devour more
Than his small Regions ever saw before;
His lazy Drones did more Provision spoil,
Than is the product of a Summers toil.
The Bees thus robb'd of all their Hony, grieve;
'Tis Winter too, they know not how to live.
Their Monarch goes to rob another Swarm,
And there remain till Summer's heat shall warm.
The Bees bereav'd of all their Nourishment,
Their Wax decay'd, and all their Hony spent;
Around their Hive their Obsequies they sing,
Lament their Fortune, and they curse their King.
FAB. V. The Lion and Fox.
A Youthful Lion in the Wood,
Of Bulk and Nature strong;
Still us'd to rav'ning and to blood,
And came to Empire young:
He too, as other Monarchs use,
New Methods did pursue:
His Father's Fav'rites did refuse;
And chose a set of new.
He having lov'd, and us'd to gore;
An arbitrary sway,
A base, a wild Despotick Pow'r
His Subjects must obey.
But want of Brains do still attend
Unlimited Command:
And therefore he would have some Friend
Might Business understand.
There was a cunning Fox liv'd near,
For many years had kill'd
The neighb'ring Lambs and Poultry there,
With Bones his Kennel fill'd.
He summon'd Reynard to appear,
Next Night, at Council Board.
Which Reynard did, and when was there,
Look'd grave as any Lord.
The Lion told him he must be
The chief Support of State.
At which kind Reynard bow'd his Knee,
And wish'd him better Fate.
O, says the Lion, thou art skill'd
In Arbitrary Sway:
Thou many Beasts and Fowls hast kill'd,
To govern know'st the way.
Ask and I'll give thee any thing,
Is in my Pow'r to give:
Thou shalt be next unto the King
As long as I do live.
Quoth Reynard, make me then the Priest,
I'll make all Beasts your Slaves:
The Body You, I Soul at least,
Wi'll tyrannize by halves.
Thus Fate did Men to thraldom bring,
Opprest just like a Beast;
Rod, spur'd, and whip'd by such a King,
And [...]ke so lewd a Priest.
FAB. VI. The Weesil, Rats and Mice.
A Mighty Weesil of Renown,
Well verst in things of State,
Was chosen King all o're the Town,
Of all the Mice and Rats.
His Coronation Day was come,
And all the Grandees meet
The Weesil in a gaudy Room,
And bow beneath his Feet.
His Chair of State was Rind of Cheese,
And o're his Royal Head
Some Bacon swer'd in goodly guise,
Like Canopy was spread.
At length he walks and struts about,
Like any Lord or Duke;
Sometimes he do's one Subject flout,
And sometimes one rebuke.
He calls an aged Rat aside,
And ask'd him his advice,
Whether a Project mayn't be try'd
To eat up all the Mice.
Ay, quoth the Rat, your Majesty
May be well satisfy'd.
Mice haters are of Monarchy,
And Regal State deride.
The Rats and Weesils now devour
The Mice in pitious sort,
They dye the Cellers with their Gore,
And with their Bones they sport.
At length the Mice are all destroy'd,
The Weesils and the Rats
Would other Food find out abroad,
But that they fear'd the Cats.
The Weesils now together plot,
How they the Rats may eat;
Provision must be daily got,
Kings must have sumptuous Meat.
The Rats now all do go to pot:
Some Bak'd, some Boil'd, some Roasted;
'Tis hop'd they had not then forgot
How they the Mice accosted.
Thus some Men oft by Tyrant Power.
Their Kindred, Subject Slaves devour,
Do all the Villanies are done
To prop a beastly Tyrant Throne;
Tho' others Blood the Tyrant fill'd,
They must at length to's Fury yield;
Nought stops a Tyrant's Course but Decollation,
Or else a modern Abdication.
FAB. VII. Lubberland.
A Land there is, as Maps do tell,
(Tho' they describe it not right well)
Nor near the Hot nor Frigid Zone,
But Latitude of fifty one;
In Nature's plenty do's abound,
With Fruits and Flocks is amply crown'd:
The Natives never are content
But with tyrannick Government;
They Men resemble by their Faces,
But by their Backs resemble Asses
For each is born with a great pack,
A warlike Saddle on his Back,
Which do's adorn the parts are upper.
On neither parts they wear a Crupper.
Their Kings, as 'tis decreed by Jove,
Do always jump down from above.
Arm'd Cap-a-pee with Boots and Spurs,
Just fit to mount such servile Curs:
With Hunting-Whips they daily maul'em
And with long rowl'd Spurs do gall 'em.
He only is the great Bravado,
Has most the Regal Bastinado.
They leap and jump, and frisk and skip,
And sing the Praises of the Whip:
They bear the Lash without bogging,
Extol the Royal Art of flogging.
With Blanket-Coat and wooden-Shoes,
The Man the Camel scarce out does.
Whilst Freemen feed on Dainties fine,
These do on Bread and Garlick dine;
And if they spend a Sous in Wine,
The Health drank round must always be;
Their Kings applauded Tyranny;
Still let 'em be curs'd Slaves for me.
FAB. VIII. Hawk and Birds.
I.
A Hawk, that of Yore
Had long weltred in Gore,
And many a Sparrow had kill'd;
By the Birds she was told,
Now he was grown old,
He his number of Sins had fullfil'd.
II.
No, said the old Hawk
My Actions to balk
If you shall but once thus combino,
The Gods will avenge,
My Cause will revenge,
I may murder ye Jure Divino.
III.
The Gods, said the Birds,
We'll not take their words;
If they've 'gin you an Absolute Power,
They've 'gin us a part,
Is not worth a Fart,
While you have a Right to devour.
IV.
The Birds all agreed,
And thus 'twas decreed,
That Slaves they no longer would be;
They throttl'd their King,
Then sweetly did sing
The Praises of free Liberty.
FAB. IX. The Owl and the Mice.
THE harmless Mice by Tyranny opprest,
And by the Owls vast insolence distrest,
Came to a consult, where they did debate
Of Means to save their yet declining State.
Up stands a Mouse of generous noble Blood,
Free from the Fears of the more slavish Brood;
Says he, my Project, Sirs, I hope will take,
We'll tie a Bell about the Owls damn'd Neck:
Thus when the Tyrant's Bell do's ever toll
Each Mouse secures himself within his hole.
At which a Mouse for Courage fam'd, arose,
And did as follows to the rest propose;
Brethren, says he, this Enterprize is vain,
There is no end of this Tyrannick Reign,
As long as Owl, or any of his kind,
Shall here Dominion and an Empire find:
You may hang Bells about his Neck, but then
He pecks it off, and turns an Owl agen.
Let's try for once, since our Condition's so,
What bold Micean Potentates can do.
The only way to guard our Empire well,
Is both to rid out selves of Owl and Bell.
Thus we our State and Freedom shall repair,
And live as our Fore-fathers were.
FAB. X. Neptune and the Fishes.
NEptune the God of the Tempestuous Deep,
When's Brother Boreas hush't the Storms asleep;
Upon a Rock erected had his Throne,
His Chair of State was carv'd out of the Stone;
On either hand the lovely Mermaids sate,
The glittering Pageants of the Monarch's State;
The golden Tresses which their Heads adorn.
Dy'd with the yellow glittering of the Morn.
He shook his Trident when both far and near
His Guard du Corps of Tritons shook for fear;
One he commanded strait to go and tell.
All Clans of Fish beneath the Surface dwell,
That to his Court they presently repair,
Away the Triton flounc'd as swift as Air,
The scaly Tribes in endless numbers flock
And rendevouz before the Royal Rock;
Neptune in State unto the brink did go,
An view'd the num'rous Shoals of Fish below:
Then pointing to the Mermaids, thus he said,
See there the lovely work the Gods have made,
By them and Nature destin'd for my own,
The just Supporters of my vertuous Throne.
My Pleasure is, that every sort of Fish,
For them do every Day provide a Dish.
The best and wholesom'st Fish of every sort,
And bring them every Day unto the Court.
Each Fish beneath the Surface downward darts,
But glide along with very heavy Hearts;
In vain, says one, the heav'nly Sun do's burn,
Warm the vast Deep, and Spawn to Fishes turn:
The Gods its seem thus Neptune has empower'd,
And we are born only to be devour'd;
Our Off-spring still must pay their Parents Scores,
Made for a Tyrant's Food, and Bawds and's Whores
When vast lascivious Paunches spend always,
More than the num'rous Shoals of Fish can raise.
No more, said he, by my consent, we'll own
A Tyrant's Empire, but abjure his Throne;
The watry Tribes the Motion did approve,
And to his Station every one did move.
FAB. XI. The Asylum.
THE Princes once did all combine,
The Peoples Liberty to mine;
Would make 'em right or wrong obey
An absolute Despotick Sway:
One Method, was to make us poor,
By loading Taxes more and more;
For when to Poverty Men fall,
They easily are brought to thrall:
And when their Spirit's sunk and gone,
Tyrants may lay vast Burthens on.
This did in some, in all it cou'd
Not do: Some Men had better Blood,
And tho' they could not mend their Fate
They murmur'd at the Tyrant's hate;
Which so incenc'd the Tyrant's Ire,
Some they condemn'd to rav'nous fire;
Some were to slavish Gallies sent,
Others in Fetters did lament.
Some Men were strangl'd in their Beds,
Others were hang'd, some lost their Heads;
Some whipt till bleeding Backs were kill'd,
The Lands with Tyranny were fill'd;
But those whom better luck and hap
Did favour with a wish'd escape,
A City on Batavian Shoar,
Did shelter from the Ills before;
Where native Liberty do's thrive,
And no curst Tyranny can live.
Long live great City, Favourite of Heav'n,
And never want those Blessings thou hast giv'n.
A Dialogue between Bow-Steeple DRAGON, AND THE Exchange GRASHOPER.
Ecclesia & Factio. A DIALOGUE, &c.
Dragon.
TEll me, proud Insect, since thou can'st not Fly,
By what assistance thou art Hopp'd so high:
The busie swarms of Gnats and Wasps around
With Hum, and Buz, thy Revelations sound,
And cry in thee (alone) their happiness is found.
Me they Despise, and thee they Praise aloud,
Admire thee, and Adore thee as a God:
Misled by false Enthusiastick Light,
They've rais'd thee now to a Destructive hight,
Who restless striv'st, by thy accustom'd ways,
To stain those Glories, which thou ne'er could'st raise;
And like your Dam (the Babylonian Beast)
Cry down those Truths (by which Mankind are Blest)
Which Reason, well as Faith, makes manifest.
Grashoper.
Thy Scaly Body, and Aspiring Wings,
Thy furious Tallons, and thy frightful Stings,
Makes thee seem Monstrous to our milder Flock,
Who Dreaded once, but now Disdains thy Yoke:
[Page 2]You'd bind our Souls, b'Omnipotence made free,
And Rob us of that Heav'n-born Liberty,
To which we have a Right, as clear as thee
My Sons thou wou'dst unreasonably confine
To worship God, within no Walls but thine,
As if the Prayers, from other Temples sent,
Of sighing Souls, who faithfully Repent,
Were Scorn'd, and by repulsion backward driven,
Vanish'd in Air, and reach'd no Ear of Heaven.
Where is its Goodness? What avails its Grace,
If our sincere Repentance wants access,
Thro' Heav'ns respect to either Time, or Place?
Those measures but our own Projections be,
Unminded of the Great Eternity,
Whose Love Divine moves round the Sinful Ball,
To Bless each wretch, who on his Mercies call,
Without regard to Place, no matter where,
If the Heart's Contrit, and the Mind Sincere.
Our Humble Guide the great Example yields,
Who Pray'd and Preach'd in Gardens, Mounts, and Fields.
Temples but Sacred from their use became,
Our Piety makes any House the same:
Where e'er we in th' Almighty's Name repair,
Omnipotence hath promis'd to be there.
Besides —
Our Prayers (by which all-pity'ng Heav'n we move,
To grant us His estimable Love,
When with true Zeal our Pious Souls are warm'd)
Makes the Place Holy, wheresoe'er perform'd.
Dragon.
Thou know'st I'm founded on a fateless Rock,
Freed from the danger of an envious shock,
Scripture's my Bass, Immovable I stand,
Guarded by Lawful Pow'r, on ev'ry hand.
Establish'd by a National Consent,
Preach Faith, and Charity, do Ills prevent;
And for the Truths I Teach am made Predominant.
Stedfast and Pure, from Innovations free,
Preserv'd intire from Mutability;
Safe from your Pride, and Envy, Arm'd with Law,
To humble stiff, Precisians, who withdraw
From my Communion, Conscious to agree
With Heads uncover'd, or a bended Knee,
And think a Bow a rank Idolatry.
Religion, like a Prince, tho' ne'er so Pure,
By Pow'r to Punish, must be made secure,
Or else your Saints, to Reformation given,
Would quickly cut Ten Thousand Paths to Heaven.
Could I from Factious Insolence be free,
And live unstain'd, without an Enemy,
(But that, till thou art crush'd, can never be)
Then Church, and State might happily Unite,
To Mankinds Safety, and to Heaven's Delight;
But you, by Pride, are swell'd to such a Rage,
(Fed by Vice of a Corrupted Age)
That now you strike, with Envy, at my Pow'r,
And aim'st above my Sacred Head to tow'r:
But all in vain—
For that Blest Edifice can never drop,
Which, when assail'd, good Heav'n is still the prop.
You urge a Barn, or Stable, where you Meet,
A Field, a Coffee-House, Dancing-School, or Street,
Are fit for Heav'nly Worship, and for Prayer
Sacred, as unpoluted Temples are
Rare Arrogance indeed, so vilely prone,
To justify Irreverence to a God-head done.
A Room where Men their common Lusts pursue,
Drink Swear, Lye, Cheat, all Worldly-business do,
In Christian Reason, is a hopeful Place
To beg God's Presence, or exprect His Grace;
Whilst His own House, for Holy use ordain'd,
To Him Erected, by our Sins unstain'd,
Shall be Despis'd, and Unregarded stand,
A useless Fabrick, in an Impious Land:
Yet do'st thou grumble in oppressive Tones,
And rail at me for Persecutions.
If you, through study'd Prejudice, retire
From what the Laws of God, and Man require,
A Legal Force may justly then be us'd;
Such Factious Serpents may in time be bruis'd:
My Pow'r's from God, and in his Word declare,
To those who to my Laws bear no regard,
Heav'ns Punishments are just, as to the Good Reward
The Scriptures whatsoe'er I Teach contain,
What's Easie I Recite, and what's Hard Explain:
Vertue commend to Practice, Sin reprove,
Excite to Faith, Hope, Charity, and Love:
Obedience, Loyalty, Repentance, Prayer,
The use of what we Spend, or what we Spare.
Truth I advance, and what is False suppress,
You can no more than these I do no less.
Then tell me what strange Fever in the Head,
At first those Superstitious Frenzys bred?
From whence you raise the causeless Discontent,
Which makes you from my Temples thus Dissent?
Grashoper.
Superfluous Rites there are, which you maintain,
And hold as Decencies, which I think Vain.
Look back upon your boasted Pedigree,
One part deriv'd of Rome's Idolatry,
From whose fantastick Customs you have drawn,
Square Caps, low Bows, your Surpliss, and your Lawn.
Proud Lazy Prelates; with Pluralities,
Who speak but by their hair-brain'd Deputies,
Whose Junior Years no Truths obscure can reach;
And seldom are so Wise,, as those they Teach.
Your Mass-like Service, with your noisie Toots,
Of hum drum Organs, Fiddle Faddles and Flutes,
[Page 5]Your high flown Doctrines to advance a State
And please it, till Unlawfully made Great,
Then turn your Holy Flat'ries to its Fate.
These I dislike, from these (in chief) Dissent,
As quite repugnant to the Lord's intent.
These are the sumptuous Trappings of the Whore,
The Marks and Patches which she always wore.
These are her study'd, and prevailing Charms,
Which but the loser part of Fancy warms,
And draws unwary Youth to her Adult'rous Arms.
Dragon.
External Order first informs our Sence,
And raises in us a due Reverence,
Either towards Place, or Person, where we see
Concurrent parts, in Noble Form, agree,
And tend to a peculiar Harmony.
Or why did the Creator shape the World
From a dark Mass, together rudely hurl'd?
But that in ev'y part, Mankind should see,
The strokes of an All-pow'rful Deity.
From whence the light of Faith does first arise,
And makes our Reason subject to our Eyes,
For ev'ry wond'rous work of Heav'n we see,
Gives fresh Assurance of Eternity;
And by it's Graceful Order strikes an Awe,
Humbles our Souls, and does Obedience draw,
By Natural means, to Heav'n, and Nature's Law:
Therefore, such decent Rites do I dispence,
As best shall Humble, and Affect the Sense;
And in my Sons beget a Graceful Reverence.
How Insolent it looks? How Evil bred,
T' approach God's Presence with a cover'd Head;
Yet to a Great-man Couch, with Hat in Hand,
And bare, before the Wealthy Idol, stand.
Or at Devotion so neglectful be,
As quite abandon all Humility;
And rather than to bended Knees submit,
In disrespectful Postures, Lolling sit.
Next, with Church Government you disagree,
And causlesly condemn our Hierarchy:
Rail at my Bishops, angry at their State,
And Envy them; whose Merit made them Great;
The Learn'd and Pious Characters they wear,
Hath rais'd them to the Dignities they bear.
Unstain'd their Lives, they are as Guardians chose,
To save the Church from Errour, and from Foes:
Without whose Conduct, and Authority,
Religions Pristine state can never be
Kept from Erroneous Innovations free,
But stand expos'd to every abuse.
That each Fanatick whimsie shall produce.
Then sure such Men, who by a painful Life,
(Thro' Grace) to Knowledge more sublim'd arrive;
And with the piercing Eyes of Reason, see
Thro' all the Misteries of Divinity,
Justly deserve a Spiritual advance,
Above an unlearn'd or a half-learn'd Dunce;
Whose rowling Eyes, feign'd Looks, and yawning Jaws,
Can nothing utter, but with Hums, and Haughs;
Inspir'd with Ignorance, than roars aloud
Audacious Nonsense, to a Brainless Croud
'Tis these, who from their Cradle are misled,
And backward taught, to Factious Pulpits bred,
Who, with impetious vi'lence, headlong run,
Pursuing Ills, their Rebel Sires begun.
Thus in their Frahers Faults they persevere,
And, by Instinct of Nature, envious Dunces are;
These, thro' their barren Ignorance, exclaim
Against all Order, and the Church defame.
Pelting with Factious, and Calumnious Lyes,
That Sacred Power to which they cannot rise:
Spurning at all Ecclesiastick Pomp,
True Zealous Sons of the detested Rump,
Waiting the lucky Minute to be turn'd up Trump.
Grashoper.
[Page 7]These bad Aspersions from afar you fetch,
Serve, but as Bullets, to enlarge the Breach.
Why so Disturb'd, so Scornful, and so High?
You re but a Weather cock as well as I.
Boast of fix'd Fundamenrals, yet I find.
For Interest, you can Turn with ev'ry Wind.
Where's Right Divine, your Passive, and your Non,
The Bubble's once blown up, now, poh, they're gone,
Where is your Loyalty, so subt'ly shown,
Sometimes to th' Prince and sometimes to the Throne,
Sometimes to both, sometimes to ne'er a one,
Thus is it Logically plac'd behind
So many School boys Querks, 'tis hard to find,
When the great Change (by Heav'ns permition try'd)
Your Churches Doctrine, and her Clergies Pride.
Some Conscientious Fools, 'tis true, turn'd out,
But all the Wiser Shepherds fac'd about;
And, like good Men, could blacken and upbraid
That sinking Pow'r, for which before they Pray'd.
Dragon.
Scandal (as you are wont) I know you chuse,
As the best Weapon, of Offence to use,
Whether, on search, it True, or False be found,
No matter which, if you can make it wound.
But know my Armour's temper'd against Fate;
And much to hard, for you to penetrate:
The Iron Walls, my treasur'd Truths defend,
Reverb'rate all the poisonous Balls you send.
You charge me with the want of Loyalty,
That am the chief support of Monarchy:
By my High Priest the Holy Oyl's apply'd
By me Kings Reign, are Crown'd, and Sanctifi'd;
I am on Earth their Safety a [...] to Heav'n their Guide.
By me the Factious Falshoods are supprest,
Scatter'd by restless Rebels, to molest.
The happy quiet of a Peaceful Reign,
Which Traitors Envy, and blind Fools Disdain.
Duty to Kings I to the Publick teach,
To Loyalty Excite, Perswade, Beseech,
That all things to the Throne be easie made,
And him thereon be Rev'renc'd, and Obey'd.
What are all these, but Marks of Loyalty,
Religious Graces, manifest in me,
Vertues, I find, too bright for thy dull Eyes to see.
But pray your Reasons to the World impart,
Why now you from your old Opinion start.
In happy days, when Charles the Scepter sway'd,
When base Designs, by you know who, were laid,
Then all your Awkard, Canting Brood profest
'Twas Damnable, the Bread of Life to Taste,
Within my Sacred Temple-Walls, but now,
What then you held so Dang'rous, you Allow.
If Once 'twas an Offence so great, we know
(As you maintain'd, full Twenty Years ago)
'Tis now the same, and Ever will be so.
Why do the Grandees of your Leering Tribe,
(Who from rank Dugs their prejudice imbibe)
So curb their Malice, as conform of late,
And with my Flocks they Envy, Congregate.
Oft on a Sabbath's Morning have I seen
Rich Awful Zealots of a bulkey Mein,
Cheat Heaven, and dissemble with the State,
To be by Flatt'ry, and Deceit made Great;
Visit my Temples, seem devout as Saints;
And for their Interest, turn base Sycophants;
Thus with my Worship, thro' design, agree,
And only Mimick, what they hate to be,
To climb unfairly to Authority.
Then, by their own Corrupted Whimsies led,
Where the Frape meet, and common Ills are bred;
There hear the Church, from whence they came Lampoon'd.
And true Religion, by an Ape Buffoon'd;
Who o'er his Cushion, full of Yawn, and Hum,
Stands Gaping like the Bear that beats the Drum.
Thus is the After-noon at Meeting spent,
The Morning in the Church, at Sacrament:
Rare pious Christians, full of Faith and Grace,
To thus with Heaven, dissemble for a Place;
And pawn their Souls to purchase Sword or Mace.
If I am Right, and from Mistakes most free,
Why do they not Conform intire to me;
If your dark System, they believe most true,
Why not alone Communicate with you?
Those who for Interest, carry fair with both,
Are just to neither, by their Faith and Troth:
But plung'd between two Crimes, to Greatness bent,
Err with the Wrong, and from the Right Dissent.
Grashoper.
If you make Laws to eclipse my purer light.
And rob my Sons, of what's their native Right,
The fault's not theirs, 'tis you incur the blame,
The Cunning's on their side, on yours the shame.
Why not by Birth, and Christian Knowledge free
To Riches, Honour, and Authority?
Why must these Worldly Comforts rest in you;
Or your Sons count all Pow'r and Place their due?
Why may not mine as well assist the State,
And in as great Attempts prove fortunate?
If you such Laws procure such Power possess,
As prove a hindrance to our happiness,
How can you justly blame us to evade,
And leap o'er all the Stumbling-blocks you've laid?
[Page 10]If you such bats to our Preferments make,
As Oaths, and Sacraments, for your own Int'rest sake,
It is no crime in us, the same to break or take.
If you, attempt, thro' Pride, to keep us low,
And we thro' Cunning, your designs o'erthrow
Call it not Cozening Heaven, but out-witting you.
Dragon.
No Laws can such loose Principles restrain,
No force can bind you, but a Golden Chain.
Int'rest I find is the prevailing tye,
Makes you Approve, Conform, Dissent, Deny,
Oppose the Right, or the Wrong Justifie.
Int'rest, from me first made you Separate,
And become Rival to the Church and State
Interest dispos'd you to Intestine Jars,
Improv'd to Bloody, and Domestick Wars;
Wherein being flatter'd with unjust success,
Trampl'd on Merit, spit in Vertues Face;
Riffled the Throne, and stain'd the Judgment seat.
With Crimes too black, and dreadful to repeat;
As if to you, Omnipotence had given,
A Sanguine not a Milky way to Heaven.
Still are your Thoughts by a wild Ambition tost,
Aiming to gain that Pow'r, you justly lost:
At all Elections, busie are your Brood,
Heaving and shoving 'gainst the Publick Good.
On all Promotions, Zealously intent,
Squeese, Bawl, and Jostle, till their Breaths are spent;
Kick, Cuff, and Scandal (heedless of the Laws)
Tongues, Feet, and Arms, all working for the Cause;
To raise some Meager Darlings of their own,
Faction in whose penurious looks is shown:
Rich by meer Chance, or Fraud, not Great by merit grown.
Who can Lye, Cant, Dissemble, or Forswear,
Declaim against, or hear the Common-Prayer;
Thro' all Opinions halt, to Lamely reach the Chair.
Who can his Conscience, to his Interest mould,
Run with the Court, or with the City hold.
And without shame, can true Reflections Face,
Or bear all Scandal, with a comely Grace.
And will his Pow'r beyond just bounds extend,
To injure Foes, or to advance a Friend;
Or any thing will do to serve a Factious End.
These are the worthy Dolts, your Sons advance,
By their false Poles, and double Diligence.
These are the Men of merit, they provide,
To Row, and Toe, against the Wind and Tide;
Who in Tempestious Discords, they create,
Sail quite repugnant to the Church and State:
Yet to such outward Godliness seem bent,
To Church they'll come, tho' in their Hearts Dissent
But for no Faith, will either Hang or Starve,
Both God and Mammon, for advancement serve;
Thus seasonably comply, or in fit times can swerve.
If such unsteddy Rovers bear Command,
Whilst Men of worth, shall unregarded stand,
By Law, and Nature Qualifi'd for Trust,
To something fix'd, and known in all things Just.
If Men like these, shall be by Fraud put by,
And yield their Rights to the Pedantick Fry;
England must soon from all her Greatness fall,
And mourn her Antient Glories Funeral.
Which Heaven prevent—
And (that she may once more her Grandure boast)
Retrieve her Vertues, now so nearly lost;
And from all Factious Quarrels, and Despights,
Preserve the King, Church, Nation, and our Rights:
That in one Faith, we may United be,
And accord sweetly, in just Harmony.
FINIS.