AESOP AT TUNBRIDGE OR, A few Select FABLES IN VERSE
BY No Perſon of Quality.
LONDON, Printed for, and are to be Sold by the Author. 1698.
To the READER.
RIding, of late, to take a little Air, and croſſing by ſome chance the Tunbridg Road, it was my fortune to find
•
•
arcel of Papers, which were doubtleſs
〈◊〉
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, requ
•
res
that the Reader be never cloy'd, but always kept in good Humour and good Appetite, which a long Work could hardly do; and ten 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 Fa
•••
•
ore intended to follow theſe; and the
•
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 ther Objection, the Author having
••
thing to fear, has nothing to anſwer; for
•••
y are publiſh'd, if not without his Will,
〈◊〉
without his Knowledge. But ſhould it be
••
an
•
ed that one or two Fables are a little too
•••
d and angry, yet ſince there is ſome Foun
••
tion for ſuch ſort of Mutterings and Com
••
a
•
nts from whence can our Rulers learn theſe Truths more inoffenſively, 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 Beaſ
•
s 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 write,
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
Wherer 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 Co
•
k was raking in the Ground,
And flirted up a Pearl;
I would, quoth he, thou hadſt been
•
ound
By ſome great Lord or Earl.
My ſelf a ſingle B
••
ly-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 eaſe 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 chooſe
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 Fahle may not be forgot.
FAB. IV. Of the Judgment 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 feed,
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 Judg was fain to cut them ſhort;
And thus determin'd — Sirs, in troth,
The Lamb 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 condemn'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 will 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 M
•
n.
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 of our common Senſe.)
This doubtleſs he forgot; ſo will not 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 not 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 agree▪
And to't he went a pace;
He ſeem'd ſo eager ſett, 'tis ſaid,
That he forgot his Grace.
He labour'd with his wooden Spoon,
And up he ſlopt the Stuff;
Till, by the time that half was done,
He felt he had enough.
He f
•
l
•
: 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
••
o
•
ping ſhort a while, he cry'd,
How fa
•
es it, Neighbour Hugh?
I hope by this, you 're ſatisfied,
Who
••
M
•
ſter of the Cow.
Ay, ay, qu
•
th Hugh (the Devil choak thee,
For nothing elſe can do't,)
I'm ſ
•
tisfi'd that thou haſt broke me,
U leſs thou wilt give out.
Give out? quoth Roger, that were fine;
Why, what have I been doing?
But y
•
t I tell thee, Friend of mine,
I ſhall not ſeek thy Ruine.
My Heart now turns againſt ſuch Gains;
I know th' art piteous poor.
Eat thou the half that ſtill remains,
And 'tis as 'twas befo
•
e.
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 n
•
ither 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 the Marſhes ſtrove.
For the Reward of Empire and of Love;
Which ſhould the faireſt Heifer gain,
And which 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 haſt
•
,
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 'em tear each others Throat;
But, Friend, the Creatures of ſuch Might,
Can never 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 Subjects Blood is ſpilt,
And their Eſtates are drain'd,
To juſtifie a Princes Guilt,
Or have his Vanity maintain'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 trav'l
•
ing 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 ſignifie 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 our Ancient Liberty,
Our very Backs are broke.
France is a Thief; but France can do no more,
Than keep the Panniers on we 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 fly,
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, and 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 eat,
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 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 Safely did reſtore;
Their Hawks employ'd their Power and Time
Much worſe than e'er before.
And thou, O Church of England Dove,
Don
•
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 on
••
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 himſelf 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,
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 Matter▪ 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. Poetry 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:
Reſolv'd 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.
FINIS.