Th. Fables of Aesop paraphrased in Verse and adorned with Sculpture by john Ogilby.    

THE FABLES OF AESOP paraphrased in Verse, and adorned with Sculpture,  
By JOHN OGILBY  
LONDON, Printed by Thomas Warren for Andrew Crook, at the Green Dragon in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1651.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENEAGE FINCH Earl of Winchilsea and Viscount Maidston. AND THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY SEYMOUR Lord BEAUCHAMP.  
My Lords,  
AFter the Felicity, my first labour, the translation of Virgil, received, in the protection of so Learned, and so Honourable a Patron as your noble Father, my very good Lord, I could not, nor did resist, being charged home with Gratitude, Duty, and the Harmony of Order, to entitle my Second Piece to the same renowned Family by this humble Dedication to your Lordships.  
Nor is it, (may it please your Honours) without something of design, by which this my last work, what ere it be, may in such a Grove of Honour, with your Names inscribed, and influenced by your Virtues, last, until the truest Test of Books shall sign its Commission for milder ages, and perhaps more clear from Prejudice, Barbarity, and the most cruel of all enemies, Ignorance.  
If any, my good Lords, shall accuse my judgement, and Choice, who had the Honour of Conversation with Virgil, that I have descended to Aesop, whose Apologs this day are read and familiar with Children in their first Schools; and in these latter times dishonoured by unworthy Translators; though the Dictates of my own reason deny I should make Answer to such men, It shall not be impertinent to say, this Ancient Mythologist hath through all and the most learned Times, been highly esteemed by the wisest, and studied to the great Advantage of Humane Life. Macrobius, of most eminent judgement, allowed his Book a place in the Temple of Wisdom; and Socrates, who was judged by the Oracle the wisest man then living, followed him in all his ways of persuasive Oratory, not disdaining to translate him into Verse.  
But I fear I have troubled your Lordships with this Vindication, and now be pleased to receive your own, the old Philosopher in a modern and Poetical dress; if he find entertainment from you, it shall be an honour to him, and the greatest engagement upon,  
My Lords, Your most humble and obedient Servant, JOHN OGILBY.   

To my Friend Mr. Ogilby.  

IN Empire's Childhood, and the dawn of Arts,  
When God in Temples dwelled not, but in Hearts,  
When Men might Teachers by their Deeds believe,  
When Power robbed none, nor Science did deceive;  
Nor soaring Thought wildly to Heaven did fly  
Searching Records, which in God's Closet lie,  
To know (since none like God eternal were)  
How his Dominion could at first appear;  
Presuming he, nor Honour had, nor Sway,  
Before some were, to Worship and Obey.   

Vain Thought! could Man doubt God was ere alone,  
Whose several beings to himself were known,  
Who if he Power could want, it must but be  
Because he could not make fit Company  
To tend his own perfections; which were more  
Than now best souls can perfectly adore:  
Or could he, if alone, feel want of sway,  
Who worlds could make, and make those worlds obey  
For what he since created Argues more  
His Love of doing good, than Love of power.  
Nor so could God mistake, as to believe  
That to be honour which his Creatures give;  
Nor could he then, since honour is respect,  
Want honour till himself he did neglect;  
For if it might be said, he was alone,  
Yet to himself his Excellence was known;  
Which was so great, that if himself could raise  
His honour higher with his own just praise,  
He was himself his own abundant Theme,  
And only could himself enough esteem.  
But these vexed Thoughts, which Schools unquiet make,  
And like to madness keep their souls awake,  
Took rest, and slept, in th' Infancy of Time,  
And with ceil eyes did never upward climb.   

To study God, God's Student, Man, was made;  
To read him as in Nature's Text convaid;  
Not as in Heaven, but as he did descend  
To Earth, his easier Book; where, to suspend  
And save his Miracles, each little Flower,  
And lesser Fly, shows his familiar power.  
Then usefully the studious world was wise,  
Not learned as now in useless subtleties.  
Truth naked then, not armed with Eloquence,  
Walked safe, because all rose in her defence.  
But now the gravest Schools, through Pride, contend;  
And Truth awhile, at last themselves defend.  
So vexed is now the world with mysteries,  
Since prouder minds dressed Truth in Arts disguise;  
And so Serene and Calm was Empire then,  
Whilst Statesmen studied Beasts to Govern Men.   

Accursed be Aegypt's Priests, who first through Pride  
And Avarice this common light did hid:  
To Temples did this moral Text confine,  
And made it hard, to make it seem Divine:  
In Creatures forms a fancied Deity  
They drew, and raised the mystery so high,  
As all to reach it did require their aid;  
For which they were, as hired Expounders, paid.  
This clouded Text, which but to few was known,  
In time grew darker, and was read by none;  
So weak of Wing is soaring Mystery;  
And Learning's Light goes out, when held too high:   

But blessed be Aesop, whom the wise adore,  
Who this dark Science did to light restore;  
Which though obscured, when raised and made Divine,  
Yet soon did in his humble Morals shine.  
For that which was by Art for profit hid,  
And to the Laity, as to Spies, forbidden,  
He, as the hirelesse Priest of Nature, brought  
From Temples, and her Doctrine freely taught;  
Whilst even to Beasts Men, blushing, seemed ashamed  
That Men by Beasts he counselled and reclaimed.   

Blessed be our Poet too! whose fire hath made  
Grave Aesop warm in Death's detested shade;  
Though Verses are but Fetters deemed by those  
Who endless journies make in wand'ring Prose;  
Yet in thy Verse, me thinks, I Aesop see  
Less bound than when his Master made him free:  
So well thou fittest the measure of his mind,  
Which, though the Slave, his body, were confined,  
Seemed, as thy wit, still unconstraind and young,  
And like thy numbers easy and as strong.  
Or as thy Muse in her Satiric strain  
Doth spare the Person, whilst the Vice is slain,  
So his rebukes, though sharp, were kind and grave,  
Like Judges chiding those whom they would save.  
Thus since your equal souls so well agree,  
I needs must paint his mind in drawing thee.  
Be both renowned! and whilst you Nature preach,  
May Art ne'er raise your Text above our reach.  
Your Morals will (they are so subtly plain)  
Convince the Subtle, and the Simple gain;  
So pleasant too, that we more pleasure take  
(Though only Pleasure doth our Vices make)  
To hear our sins rebuked with so much wit,  
Than e'er we took when those we did commit.  
Laws do in vain with force our wills invade;  
Since you can Conquer when you but Persuade.   
W: D' AVENANT From the Tower Sep. 30. 1651.   

To my Worthy Friend Mr. JOHN OGILBY.  

IN what part of our Hemisphere, could spread  
A cloud, so long, t' obscure thy radiant Head?  
Shine forth Prodigious Star, and make us know  
What to thy welcome Beams our Age must owe.  
As thou appear'st, how doth each trembling light  
Retreat? whilst thou emergent from the night,  
Like Days new Sovereign, hast discovered more,  
Than all their revolutions showed before.   

At this a Marble heaves! Methinks I see  
The Learned shade of Virgil rise to thee,  
Taught our own Language, with that soul, and sense,  
As hath not shamed his Roman Eloquence;  
And kissing his fresh shroud, smile, that he must  
Confess himself thy debtor, in his dust:  
Whilst we admire both thy bold Hand and Fate,  
Who hast performed, the next thing to Create.   

Yet here thou leav'st us not, as if thy Fame  
Were narrow, and too stooping for thy Name;  
Aesop the Great Mythologist, thy Pen  
Hath raised, and more than made alive again.  
(When Rhymers vexed his Ghost, and Men, to see't,  
Staining fair paper with their Cloven feet)  
Thou hast new made him, for (as if by thee,  
Shuffled into his Antique dust) we see  
Him rise, but visible in some Earthy part,  
His Soul is the new Creature of thy Art.  
This could thy great Converse with Virgil do,  
To make old Aesop rise a Poet too.   

What in thy method must our wits amaze  
Next thy Translation, and This Paraphrase:  
Awake that Poem, born from thy own flame,  
And at least Second in Heroic name;  
This, only this remains, Then, thou mayst try,  
And thy Muse tell thee, 'tis too late, to die.   
JAMES SHIRLEY.   

Imprimatur.  
Na: Brent. July, 1. 1651.   


1  THE FABLES OF AESOP.  

THE FIRST FABLE. Of the Cock and Precious Stone.  

STout Chanticleer four times aloud proclaims  
Day's signal victory o'er night's vanquished flames:  
As oft the mighty Lions are affrighted  
With his shrill notes, while others are delighted.  
In a short coat of feathers warm as furs,  
In boots drawn up, and gilded spurs,  
(Of old the valiant Cock the Eagle Knighted,)  
He from proud roosts high as the thatch descends,  
His wives, his concubines, and fair race attends.   

Scaling a sordid Mountain, strait he found  
A star in dust, a Sparkling Diamond.  
Then spoke the Cock: Stone of the blackest water,  
Whom time, nor fire can waste, nor anvil batter;  
If thee some skilful Jeweller had sold,  
Adorned thus with purest Gold  
To a fond lover: he, his love to flatter  
Would swear his Lady's eyes outshine thy rays  
(Brightest of gems) although she look nine ways.   

Thou Emblem of vain learning may'st adorn  
The wisest, but give me a barley corn.  
Let meager Scholars waste their brains and tapers  
In quest of thee, while they turn anxious papers  
Let me have pleasure and my belly full;  
Fare better is an Empty scull  
Than a head stuffed with melancholy vapours.  
Lie still obscure; I'll be to nature kind;  
My body I'll not starve to feed my mind.   

MORAL.  
Voluptuous men Philosophy despise;  
Down with all learning the armed Soldier cries:  
On gleab, and Cattles, greedy Farmers look;  
And Merchants only prise their counting book.    


2  THE SECOND FABLE. Of the Dog and Shadow.  

THIS Dog away with a whole Shoulder ran,  
Let thanks be to the careless Larder-man  
Which made the Proverb true: both large and good  
The mutton was, no way but take the flood;  
His fellow Spaniels waiting in the Hall,  
Nay Hounds, and Curs, in for a share would fall;  
Those beggars, that like Plague and Famine sit  
Guarding the gate, would eat both him and it;  
Shrewd were his doubts lest Servingmen might put  
In for their part, and strive for the first cut:  
A thousand real dangers thus persuade,  
As many more his nimble fancy made:  
Faces about, strait at a postern-gate  
He takes the stream, and leaves the rest to Fate.   

'Twas in the Dog-days too; the skies were clear;  
Not one black patch did in Heaven's face appear:  
The conquering Sun left two and thirty winds  
Breathless, and happy calms the Halcyon finds.   

When a refracted Ray, a golden beam  
In the gross Medium of the darker stream  
Pencilled an other shoulder like to that  
The Dog had purchased, but more large, and fat.  
To him, who oft had fed from beggars caps,  
Shared in the Dole, and quarrelled for fallen scraps,  
With twenty more for a gnawn bone would fight,  
A greedy Worm, a dogged Appetite  
Gave sad advice, to seize one shoulder more.  
Some Mortals till they're rich are never poor  
Too rash he bites: down to the deepest stream  
The shadow and the substance, like a Dream  
Vanished together; thrice he dives in vain;  
For the swift current bore it to the Main  
To furnish Triton's Banquet, who that day  
Married the famous Mermaid Galate.  
The Virgin smiled, but yet the easy Nymph  
Returned not, for the Present, one poor Shrimp.   

Thrice round he looks, raising his woeful head,  
To see which way the feathered joint was fled;  
But finding none, he is resolved to die,  
And with his love dear lady Mutton lie.  
Yet hating a wet death, he swum to shore,  
Then set a throat up made the Welkin roar;  
To hang himself in his own collar he  
Is next resolved, could he but find a tree.  
Full of despair, in a most desperate qualm  
Then thus he howld his recantation Psalm.   

Here I the Emblem of fond mortals sit,  
That lose the substance for an empty bit:  
Whom fair pretences, and a hollow shade  
Of future happiness, unhappy made.  
Nay States, and mighty Realms, with plenty proud,  
Thus for rich Juno oft embrace a Cloud.  
He is too blessed that his own happiness knows,  
And Mortals to themselves are greatest Foes.   

MORAL  
Foul Avarice is of pregnant Money bred;  
He that loves Gold, starves more, the more he's fed:  
Doubling of thousands Usurers to their cost  
Know, when both Use and Principal is lost.    


3  THE THIRD FABLE. Of the Lion and other Beasts.  

WHen troops of beams led by the grey-eyd dawn  
From Eastern ports rushed with recruited light,  
And beat up all the quarters of the night;  
When Cynthia fled, with broken silence drawn,  
Her Glory plunderd, pale at the affright;  
When Acheron's jaws for routed Spirits yawn,  
Dreams and fantastic visions put to flight;  
When Stars disordered hid in Sea Nymphs beds,  
Or back to Heaven did shrink their golden heads:   

Then was the Lion up, and all his court,  
Prepared to hunt, from woods and deserts came  
Various wild beasts, from fields and Cities tame.  
About his palace throng a huge resort,  
Because the Royal Edict did proclaim  
There would be profit, feasts, as well as sport:  
Thus expectation heightend was by Fame,  
The strong, swift, cunning, all laid nose to ground,  
Should share alike with him of what they found.   

With 
* The Wolf  Isgrim, 
* The Bear.  Bruine came, and all his Bears,  
Attending in the presence yet being dark;  
Ram Belin safe was there as in the Ark,  

* The Fox.  Reynard was buisy with his gins and snares,  
Well know'ng all walks and outlets of the park,  

* The Cat.  Tybert attends with troops of mountaineers,  
And jefery the Ape, well horsed, a gallant spark  
All sorts of dogs, mongst whom the Spaniel waits,  
For shadows hoping now substantial cates.   

The Sun scarce drank his draught of morning dew,  
Nor did his bowl of dissolved pearl exhaust,  
When mixed troops take the field, no time is lost.  
At last a royal Hart they ran in view,  
Whom, having at a bay, the Lion drew  
About him round his various languaged Host:  
Many their limbs, and some their lives it cost;  
At last orepowred by number, down he falls,  
While Heaven and Earth ring at his funerals.   

Th'unlace, then strip, and next divide the Deer.  
Thus the offended King did then complain:  
These shares not equal are, divide again.  
One portion of the Quarry will appear  
My Perquisit, as I'm your Sovereign;  
The next is Ours, as being strongest here;  
The third you must acknowledge for my pain;  
The last shall be your bounty, not Our claim:  
But who denies, look too't, his Foe I am.   

No Subject 'gainst this Prince durst try his suit;  
Not Reynard though most learned in the Law.  
Vain are all pleas against the Lion's paw,  
'tis only force must violence confute,  
Just title present power doth over-awe.  
None of the beasts their grievances dispute,  
All home return, sad with a hungry maw.  
But as they went, one said, Though equals must,  
Yet when they please Superiors may be just.   

MORAL  
When mighty power with Avarice is joined,  
Will is obeyed, and Justice cast behind:  
So Tyrants to engage the people grant,  
And at their pleasure break the Covenant.    


4  THE FOURTH FABLE Of the Eagle and the Daw.  

THe royal Eagle, when the Ocean's dark  
Waves had retired to their low water mark,  
Weary with grosser food, and bloody meat,  
Forsakes his Cedar court and mountain seat  
To seek fresh banquets; nothing that the Ark  
Contained could please, Kid, Pigeon, Lamb, nor Lark.  
Nor humane slaughter moist with putrid gore  
His gorge with surfeit weakened could put over.  
Shellfish being salt  
Might cure the fault,  
That only must his former health restore.   

When his quick eye piercing the air a mile,  
Upon the sea-washed margins of an Isle  
A Scollop found: which was in shell so locked  
That if the devil and his dam had knocked,  
They might have stayed for entrance a while.  
Without success long did the Eagle toil,  
His beak grows blunt, his griping talons ache,  
No storm, nor stratagem the fort will take:  
When the sly Daw  
The leaguer saw,  
And to his king and royal master spoke.   

Prince of the plumed Citizens, to whom  
We come for Justice and receive our doom,  
Your Highness hath been pleased to take advice  
From silly Birds, from prattling Daws and Pies,  
And oft great Kings will hear the meanest Groom.  
Not far from hence (Sir) stands an ancient Toomb  
Hard as the Adamantine gates of Hell,  
Mount with that Fish enchanted by a spell,  
Lessen to a Lark  
Then take your mark,  
And on hard marble break th'obdurate shell.   

This counsel pleased the feathered King: who strait  
'Bove Clouds and winged Tempests made a flight:  
So high he soared, till Earth's magnetic force  
Would not have hindered to the Stars his course;  
Then lets the Scollop fall, where it's own weight  
Made a wide passage to the luscious Freight.  
Soon as the hungry Daw perceived the prize,  
He stood not to consult, but in he flies;  
And strait did eat  
The Delicate,  
Then to the sheltering wood for safety hies.   

When th'Eagle this from Heavens bright arches saw,  
With a deep sigh he said; Ah treacherous Daw!  
By fair pretence, and counsel seeming good,  
Thou hast deprived me of my dainty food.  
Thus cunning Foxes use the Lion's Paw;  
And by these Arts Subjects from Princes draw  
Sovereignty to themselves: the Monarch's wing  
Must be stretched out to his own ruining,  
No other power  
So high can tower,  
'Tis the King only must destroy the King.   

MORAL  
Let Princes of the best advice beware,  
Nor trust the greedy, they still treacherous are:  
Subjects to King's Exchecquers have no way,  
Unless themselves deliver up the Key.    


5  THE FIFTH FABLE. Of the Crow and the Fox.  

WAS it the Crow that by a cunning Plot  
A piece of Cheese had got?  
Or shirking Rook, or Chough, or Pie?  
Some bold affirm, as boldly some deny.  
But sure I am it was that Daw, or Crow:  
And I can prove it to be so,  
That robbed the King his master of his meat,  
And now to make his Cozenage more complete,  
On Man, his King's King, puts the second cheat.   

This Crow, surprised with his own happy wit,  
Can neither stand nor sit;  
Proud of the spoil, he makes a search  
Through all the Grove to find a dancing Perch:  
From bough to bough th'insulter hops;  
Too low are now tall Cedars tops.  
At last he fixed, whom sly sir Reynard sees,  
And soon projecting how to get the Cheese,  
Thus he accosts him, placed 'mong lofty Trees.   

O thou most weather-wise, who best canst tell  
When Heaven as dark as Hell  
Juno incensed shall make, and when  
Jove condensed air will rarify again.  
But what sings lying Fame? she says  
Thou blacker art than those foul days:  
But yet to thine, Swans silver down seems tanned,  
With such Plumes Phoenix funeral fire hath found,  
And Mexicans in fight like Angels stand.   

As thou in Plumes, didst thou excel in voice,  
'Twould Heaven and Earth rejoice:  
Wouldst thou but chant one pleasing lay  
Then be thou King of birds, and Lord of May.  
Fair Crow entreated, not refuse  
As crottcheting Musicians use;  
Sing, and let mounting Larks forsake the sky,  
And let the emulating Lynnet die,  
And Swans no more tune their own Obsequy.   

Success wide doors to open Flattery gives;  
All this the Crow believes:  
Trying to reach no common Note,  
Down drops the Dainty in sly Reynards' throat;  
Who chaps it up; then fleering said:  
You have sung well, and I have played  
My part not ill: All learned Doctors hold  
Cheese for the voice far worse is than cold,  
Since once it turned a Siren to a Scold.   

When the Crow said: I that robbed Man, whose Plot  
Spoils from the Eagle got;  
A Beast hath cozened of no less  
A dainty now than my whole second mess.  
What cannot glozing Flatterers do,  
When our own selves we flatter too?  
Go scorned of all, and take thy woeful flight  
To dismal Groves, there mix with Birds of night:  
Did thy own eyes believe the Crow is white?   

MORAL.  
Great is the power of Charms, but what enchants  
More than bewitching tongues of Sychophants?  
Love, and the wealth of Kings, are in their power,  
And Gold not sooner takes the maiden Tower.    


6  THE SIXTH FABLE. The Battle of the Frog and Mouse.  

FRog-land to save, and Micean Realms to spare  
From War and Ruin, two bold Kings prepare  
The Empire of the Marshes to decide  
In single fight. From all parts far and wide  
Both Nations flock to see the great event,  
And load with Vows and Prayers the Firmament:  
Opposed Petitions grant Heaven's Court no rest,  
While Hope and Fear thus struggle in their breast.   

Up to the fatal Lists and measured Banks  
Both Armies drew; bold yellow coats in Ranks  
And black furred Monscovites the circle man,  
Which the six-fingered Giant could not span.  
The rising Hills each where the Vulgar crowned:  
Nor long expect they, when the warlike sound,  
Of spirit-stirring Hornets, Gnats and Bees,  
(Such Trumpeters would blood turned Ice unfreeze)  
Told the approach of two no petty Kings,  
While the long Vale with big-voyced Croakers rings.   

First King Frogpadock with the freckled face  
Enters the List (for they by Lot took place)  
Riding a Crayfish, armed from head to heel  
In shell, dame Nature's gift instead of steel.   

Although the many-footed could not run  
With the great Crab, which yearly feasts the Sun;  
Nor with the golden Scorpion could set forth  
And measure daily the tun-bellied Earth;  
Yet such his speed, he ne'er was overtook  
By any shell-backd monster of the brook.   

The arms he wore, once wear a water snakes,  
Which in the battle when the springs and lakes  
Decided were, a Conqueror he brought  
From the deep floods, with gold and purple wrought.  
Over these a water-Rats black fur he cast  
Dreadful with teeth and claws. Thus, as he passed  
The Vulgar shout to see their six inched King  
Like great Alcides in his Lion's skin.   

A whole house armed his head, had been a snails:  
Though Ostrich Plumes it wants, and Peacock's tails,  
Yet every colour the great Rainbow dies,  
Shone on his crest, the wings of butterflies,  
Sent him of old a present from Queen Mab.  
His Targe the shell of a deserted Crab,  
Where in the Phrogian tongue this verse was writ;  
The Manlike swimming King, unvanquished yet.  
Six sprightly Toadpoles his rush Javelins bore;  
His sword, a sharp-long-two-edg'd-Flag he wore  
Girt to his thigh, a wand'ring snail the hilt  
With a bright varnish in Meander's gilt.  
Appointed thus about the lists he rid,  
While all admire the Champions arms and steed.   

Soon as the pleased spectators settled were,  
Glad acclamations melting into air,  
Voices were heard through echoing valleys ring,  
Th' approach foretelling, of the Micean King.   

A subdued mousetrap, his Sedan in peace,  
His Chariot now; from man's high palaces  
Moustapha brought: Near through the scorching plain  
Did sweeting Kings draw such a Tamburlaine:  
Six Princes, captive ferrets, through deep tracts  
Fearing the lash, oft fired his thundering axe:  
And though a heavy mortal was their load,  
King Oberon they over hill and dale out-rode.  
Entered the list, he lights, then mounted on  
A dapled Weasel; the bold Micedon  
Appeared (may we great things compare with small,)  
Like the world's Conqueror, though not so tall.   

His arms were not of steel, nor gold, nor brass;  
Nor sweeting Cyclops turned the yielding mass  
With griping tongues, nor Bull-skin bellows roar  
To purge Electrum from the frothy ore;  
But the black coat of a Westphalia swine,  
Long hung in smoke, which now like jet did shine.   

Fame says, (and she tells truth as oft as lies,)  
The seasoned Gammon, Miceans did surprise,  
Spoilt the red flesh before 'twas once served up  
After full boards, to relish a fresh cup:  
This their Kings right, his Captains did present  
To him for safety, and an ornament;  
Such was black Moustapha's habergeon.   

The ancient Hero's had but steel upon  
The heads of cruel spears; but this did wield  
A lance, whose body was all over steeled;  
It was a knitting needle, strong, and bright;  
His helm a thimble dazed th' enemy's sight,  
o'er which a thick fald plume, waged with each gale,  
Of Tiffanie, gnawn from a Lady's veil;  
In it a Sprig which made his own afeard,  
The stiff Mustachios of a dead Cat's beard.   

His solid Shield which he so much did trust  
Was Biscuit, though some write 'twas Manchet crust.  
Historians oft as Poets do mistake;  
But I affirm 'twas Biscuit, for the Cake  
They all agree by Navigation,  
Four times was seasoned in the Torrid Zone.   

The Story thus is told, the Rattish Prince  
A great Diviner, had Intelligence  
From occult causes, that the dangerous Seas  
Must be forsaken, and floating Palaces:  
His ship next voyage would by Stormes be lost:  
Therefore his black bands swom to the next coast  
On Biscuit safe; But Tybert by the way  
(The Prince of Cats) made him and it a prey,  
Slew on the shore and feasted on his head.  
He with blood sated, leaves neglected bread,  
Of which black Moustapha after made his Targe,  
Like Ajax sevenfold shield, but not so large.   

His Motto was his Title and his name  
Transposed into no costive Anagram,  
Which from the Micean tongue we thus translate:  
The Parmazan affecter, strong, and great.   

Both Champions searched, found free from fraud or Charms,  
They take their stands, and peise their mighty Arms.  
At once loud Hornets sound, at once they start;  
At once couched Spears, with equal Force and Art  
Closed bevers met, struck fire; at once they both  
Did backward kiss their mother Earth, though loath.  
But first his nimble foot the Micean found:  
When King Frogpadock as loathed Irish ground  
His limbs had touched, lay on his back upright:  
Yet soon recovering, never Frogian Knight  
Made such a Charge; for with strange fury led  
At the first blow, he leaps quite o'er his head,  
Bearing his ponderous Arms, his Sword and Targe.   

Nor was black Moustapha wanting in the Charge  
To show his wondrous courage, strength, and skill:  
For, by the advantage of a rising Hill  
A Mole had wrought, he strikes; and though the stroke  
Would not have field an Ox, or cloven an Oak;  
Yet such it was, that had it took, in blood  
His Soul had wandered through the Stygian flood;  
But missing, the soft air receives the wound,  
And over and over he tumbles to the ground.   

Nor at th' advantage was Frogpadock slack,  
But at one jump bestrides the Miceans back;  
Then grasping him twixt his cold knees, he said:  
Robber of man, who now shall give thee aid?  
Foul Toad, so Oberon please, I fear not thee,  
Stout Moustapha replied: then actively  
He backward caught the short armed King by th'rists,  
And bore him on his shoulders round the Lists;  
Lowd croaks scale Heaven, then maugre all his strength  
Regains his Sword, and threw him thrice his length.   

On equal terms again they battle joined:  
Heroic Souls in narrow breasts confined!  
For these in Trojan wars, once Champions fierce  
With gallant Acts adorned great Homer's verse:  
After became Testy Philosophers,  
And fought in hot disputes, and learned jars;  
Then Lions, Bears, Cocks, Bulls and brisly Hogs;  
Last transmigrated Schismatics, or Dogs:  
Where ere they meet the war is still renewed,  
With lasting hatred and immortal feud.   

The King, whose Grandsire when it thundered loud,  
Mongst fire and hail, dropped from a broken Cloud,  
And with an Host of Toadpoles from the sky  
In those vast Fens a Frogian Colony  
At first did plant: though icy was his skin  
With Rage and Shame an Aetna felt within;  
Raised his broad Flag to make a mighty blow,  
Thinking at once in two to cleave the Foe;  
Who nimbly traversing with skill his ground  
On the Ceralian Shield, received the wound:  
Yet from the orbed biscuit fell a slice,  
Which near the List, was eaten in a trice.   

Here the Crum-picking King puts in a stuck  
With a bright needle, his stiff Spanish Tuck;  
Which pierced Frogpadocks skin, through's Dragon's mail;  
Rage doubles, than the Flag becomes a Flail;  
And on his Thimble Cask struck such a heat,  
That Moustapha was forced to retreat:  
Not struck with fear, but from his hole to fling  
Assured vengeance on the Diving King.  
Seven times he sallies forth, as oft retired;  
But now both Champions with like fury fired  
Lay off all cunning, scorning to defend,  
Strength, Rage, and Fortune must the battle end:  
There was no interim; so the Cyclops beat  
When Mars his arms require a second heat,  
Though louder the Aetnaean Cavern rores;  
Blows had for death now made a thousand doors,  
As many more for life to issue out.   

But here among our Authors springs a doubt.  
Some in this mighty combat, dare aver  
Both Champions fainting, Symptoms showed of fear;  
In a cold sweat Frogpadock almost choked  
With heat & dust gaspd thrice; and three times croakd.  
And Moustapha bestewd in blood and sweat  
As oft cried peep; and made no slow retreat.  
To these detractors, since I am provoked,  
I say 'tis false; this peepd not, nor that croakd.  
Historians feign, but truth the Poet sings;  
Some writers still asperse the best of Kings.   

While thus the battle stood, the Kytish Prince  
Had from loud croaks and cries intelligence  
Of this great fight, then to himself did say,  
What mighty matters in the Marsh to day!  
Then mounted high on labouring wings he glides,  
And the vast Region of the air divides.   

The woeful Fairy Mab did this foresee;  
Whom grief transformed now to an Humblebee:  
She flies about them, buzzing in their ear:  
For both the Champions she esteemed dear.  
The black-Prince did with Captive Frogians come,  
And at her Altars paid a Hecatomb  
That day: and King Frogpadock in her house  
With reared up hands offered a highborn Mouse;  
And when th' immortal mortal Cates did wish,  
The fattest sacrifice was made her dish.  
Therefore she humns; desist; no more; be friends;  
Behold the common enemy attends;  
In vain 'gainst him are your united powers:  
O stay your rage, see, o'er your heads he towers.  
But they engaged in cruel fight, not heard  
The Queen's admonishments, nor did regard  
Approaching fates: but suddenly they bind  
In grapple fierce, their Targets cast behind.  
When the plumed Prince down like swift lightning stoops,  
And seized both Champions maugre all their troops:  
Their arms drop down, upon them both he feasts,  
And reconciles their doubtful interests.  
Amazed spectators fly, Hunt-crums, and Vaulters,  
Run to their holes, and leap into the waters.   

MORAL.  
Thus Petty Princes strive with mortal hate,  
Till both are swallowed by a neighbouring state:  
Thus factions with a civil War imbrued  
By some unseen Aspirer are subdued.    


7  THE SEVENTH FABLE. Of the Court Mouse, and Country Mouse.  

A Courtly dame of Moustapha's great line,  
When length of time digested had long sorrow,  
Will with her sister in the Country dine:  
The Rustic Mouse dwelled near a little Burrough,  
About her round verminious troops inhabit;  
The Weasel, Fox,  
Bagers and brock's,  
And Ferrets, which so persecute the Rabbit.   

Hither 
* Court Mouse.  Crevisa coming, soon was brought  
Down by 
* Country Mouse  Pickgrana to a homely table,  
Supplied with Cates, nor far fetched, nor dear bought;  
Which to behold the Court Mouse was not able:  
Cheese that would break a saw, and blunt a hatchet,  
She could not taste,  
Nor mouldy paste,  
Though twelve stout rustic Mice that night did fetch it.   

Yet had she fruit, and store of pulse and grain,  
Aunts Eggs, the Bees sweet bag, a stars fallen jelly,  
Snails dressed i'th' shells, with Cuckoo foam, and rain,  
Frog legs, a Lizards foot, a Neuts pied belly,  
The Cob, and hard roe of a pickle Herring  
Got from a Dog,  
As they did prog,  
And a rush candle purchased by pickeering.   

When dame Crevisa thus at length begun:  
Dear sister rise, and leave this homely banquet;  
Who with Westphalia hamnes and Parmazan  
Are daily feasted (Oberon be thanked)  
Such meats abhor; come, go with me tothth' City,  
Here is cold air,  
Famine, and care;  
Your miserable life, in truth I pity.   

We Lords and Ladies see, dance, laugh, and sing;  
Where is that dish they keep from us is dainty?  
Proud Cats not oftener look upon the King,  
And we with Princes share prodigious plenty.  
Invited thus, they went through many a Cranny,  
When it was wide,  
On, side by side,  
To the Court larder undescried of any.   

There heaps appeared of baked, roast, stewed, and sod;  
The vast earth's plenty, and the Ocean's riches;  
Able to satisfy a belly God:  
The roof was hung with tongues, and bacon flitches,  
Beef Mountains had Rosemary Forests growing  
On their high back,  
Nor was their lack  
Of Vinegar in Pepper Channels flowing.   

Little they said, but suddenly they charge  
Huge Venison walls; then towers of paste they batter;  
Breaches are made in trembling Custard large,  
Here a Potrido the bold sisters shatter;  
This takes a Sturgeon, that a pickled Salmon;  
Then tooth and nail  
They both assail  
Red Dear immured, or seized an armed Gammon.   

While boldly thus they mighty havoc made,  
They hear keys jingle, and a groaning Wicket;  
From place to place Pickgrana as betrayed  
Seeks in strange corners out some Hole or Thicket.  
To these Alarms Crevisa being no stranger  
Needs not to think  
Where was the Chink  
That should from Man protect her, and all danger.   

The coast being clear, the Court-mouse strait did call  
The Country-dame to pillage the whole larder;  
And Sister said, To second Course let's fall:  
But she amazed, still seeking out some Harbour,  
Trembling and pale, dear Lady said; Pray tell us  
Are these fears oft?  
Crevisa laughed,  
And thus replies; 'tis common what befell us,   

No danger this; it adds to our delight;  
Nor are we with a careless servant frighted;  
Motion and time revives dull appetite,  
And we to Banquets are afresh invited.  
Then said Pickgrane; Is this the Royal Palace?  
Better are Farms  
Without Alarms,  
Where we enjoy less plenty, but more solace.   

MORAL  
What relish hath the sated appetite,  
When false Alarms tumultuous Cities fright?  
But in the noysless Country, free from care,  
Swains are more blest, though harder be their Fare.    


8  THE EIGHTH FABLE. Of the Mountain in labour.  

HArk, how the Mountain groans, what wondrous birth  
Committing Incest with his mother Earth  
Did huge Typhaeon get! his sister Fame  
Heightening the expectation, did proclaim  
'Twas with Rebellion big; the hopeful Heir  
Should pull proud Jove from his usurped Chair;  
The Starry Towers by Mortals should be stormed,  
And the God's sculk in several shapes transformed.   

Poets and Painters, nay Historians too  
As near as they in modesty could do,  
Draw to behold the issue, and to see  
A Monster might beyond all fiction be.   

Come you longsided Widows, six or seven,  
Whose husbands fell in the late war 'gainst Heaven,  
And help the labouring Mountain; quickly come  
And mollify her Adamantine Woomb.  
While thus it labours, Fame divulged abroad,  
The Hill was eased of her prodigious load.  
Fear tells she saw, and th'Infant's shape describes;  
Not all the Covenanting Brethren's Tribes  
That Heaven assaulted, could such Forces boast:  
This bigger was than that Gigantic Host.  
This could more ponderous than his Mother poise  
A Hill on every finger: Hercules  
In Cradle strangled Serpents, but this can  
Crack twixt his nail, Ironside Leviathan.  
So much it grew in every hour, that soon  
The Gold and Silver of the Sun and Moon  
Would all be his; and some not stick to say  
Jove's arms, and thunder would be seized next day.   

At last the Mountain a huge groan did fetch,  
Which made her bellies marble portals stretch;  
And was delivered strait; from this great house  
That threatened so much danger leaps a Mouse.  
A shout scales heaven, all cry a Mouse is born;  
And what so much they feared, is now a scorn.  
Silence our Pipes, and Muses now be dumb,  
Great expectations oft to nothing come.   

MORAL.  
Thus haughty Nations with Rebellion big  
Land forces raise, and huge Armadoes rig  
Against the State, fame trebling their great power,  
Which happier Stars have scattered in an hour.    


9  THE NINTH FABLE. Of the Lion and the Mouse.  

what's this that troubles us we cannot sleep?  
Something is in our fur, we feel it creep  
Betwixt our neck and shoulders, 'twill invade  
Our throat anon, the weary Lion said,  
New come from hunting, stretched in a cool shade.   

Peace, and we'll catch a Mouse; his word is kept,  
His great paw seized the straggler as he crept.  
Who trembling thus begun. King of the grove,  
Whom when thou thunderst beasts more fear than Jove,  
Let no small crime thy high displeasure move.   

Hither I strayed by chance; think not great Sir  
I came to pick a hole in Royal Fur,  
Nor with the Wolf and Fox did I contrive  
'Gainst you, nor questioned your Prerogative:  
If so, then justly me of life deprive.   

Should I relate for what great act my name  
Through Micean Realms resounded is by fame,  
It would too much my modesty invade;  
But when at stake life is and fortune laid,  
To speak bold truths, why should I be afraid?   

Pyrrhus who now is through the world renowned,  
The Roman Soldier no Barbarian found.  
In complete Steel he saw their armies shine;  
Full squadrons stand exacter than a line,  
Beyond the Aelian tactics discipline.   

Mountains of flesh, he mighty land Whales brought,  
That towers supported with armed Soldiers fraught:  
Supposing by the Castle-carriers might,  
To break the brazen ranks, and to affright  
Ausonian squadrons with th' unusual fight.   

But the great warrior failed in this design;  
The subtle Roman Herds of filthy swine  
On th' Elephants drove: straight at their dismal cry  
Citadels clash, ranged Castles routed fly,  
And towers unsaddled in their ruin lie.   

Yet one maintained the field against all odds;  
For which his King him with new honour loads:  
And to paternal Scutcheons charged before  
With sable Castles, in a field of over  
Cantond in gules, he adds an argent Boar.   

This mighty Elephant I in dead of night,  
With these small arms, though sharp, challenged to fight,  
And said; Your Castle, and your guard are gone,  
On equal terms encounter me alone.  
True valour best is without witness shown.   

Strange! from a Mouse this Mountain trembling ran,  
And prayers in vain to the high Moon began:  
But when in Clouds she hide her silver wain,  
I through his trunk, like lightning pierced his brain,  
And till the dawn triumphed over the slain.   

But now my fortune's changed; I captive lie  
Imploring quarter from your Majesty  
Make me your friend; to sentence not proceed;  
If fickle chance should frown, (which Jove forbidden)  
The Lion of my aid may stand in need.   

This said, the King admiring that a Mouse  
Should such a monsters mighty soul unhouse,  
Seizing the Pericranium of his brain,  
And there with death, and sullen darkness reign:  
Signs his dismiss, then seeks repose again.   

Soon as to th' East tall shades began to creep,  
The Lion risen, and shakes off drowsy sleep:  
Feasts for his pregnant Queen must now be sought  
In fields remote; far fetched, as dear was bought,  
The roaring King in a strong net is caught,   

Laid by a subtle Sunburnt African;  
While he his great strength used, and strove in vain,  
Twisted grates gnawing of his Hempen Cage,  
The Micean heard th' indulgent Lion rage,  
And grateful straight to free him did engage.   

First Hunts out busily to find the cord  
Which closed the snare, which found, as with a sword,  
His teeth (before well on an old cheese set)  
Clears all the meshes of the tangling net:  
When thus the Lion spoke at freedom set.   

King's be to subjects mild; and when you move  
In highest spheres, with mercy purchase love.  
From private grudges oft great Princes have  
Midst triumphs met with an untimely grave:  
And swains have power sometimes their Lords to save.   

MORAL.  
Mercy makes Princes Gods; but mildest thrones  
Are often shaken with huge rebellions:  
Small help may bring great aid, and better far  
Is Policy than Strength in Peace or War.    


10  THE TENTH FABLE. Of the same Lion and Mouse.  

THen to the Mouse he spoke, though Kings requite  
Their Saviors oft, with steel, or Aconite;  
Yet I magnanimous Micean since i'm free  
And had this great deliverance from thee,  
Shall (if our kingdoms have it) grateful be.   

I know the Frogians, now a popular State,  
By various chance of war, and long debate,  
Have driven your race to fenced towns, and towers,  
Where cruel 
* The Cat.  Tybert in nights dismal hours,  
Many a harmless Mouscovite devours.   

But noble Catus boasts his stock from us,  
For of our species is majestic Puss.  
I'll use my power firm peace from him to gain,  
And by the eagle's means from Jove obtain  
A Stork, that shall over Croaking Frogians reign.   

But more than this, by that Celestial sign  
(Which gilds the Corn, purples the plumper Vine)  
The Lion called, by wise Astronomers,  
What's mine is thine; ask then; in peace and wars  
Be also one of our prime Counsellors.   

Th' ambitious Mouse; who chooseth still the best,  
For where his phang tooth hath a seal impressed,  
If purest bread, rich cheese, or mellow fruit,  
That the whole table eats without dispute;  
To great King's taster is this little brute,   

Encouraged by the Lion, thus replied;  
Then let the royal Virgin be my bride.  
Nor wonder at my suit; though I am small,  
My mother was a mountain, full as tall  
As high Olympus, Jove's huge Counsel hall.   

Great was the expectation at my birth;  
My sister Fame divulged our mother Earth  
Swelled with a son, should give heaven fresh alarms.  
What ere my limbs, me, no less soul informs,  
Than bold Briareus with the hundred arms.   

The troubled King then to the Micean said;  
Son, darest thou venture on the horrid maid.  
See where she comes: attended from our court,  
Pards, Leopards, Panthers, round about resort,  
Near, her delight, to wanton Jackcals sport.   

The Lion then aside his daughter took,  
And to prepare sweet love, thus kindly spoke;  
From whom I life and freedom have, behold:  
Amongst our Kings his name shall be enroll,  
One wise in Counsel, and in Battle bold.   

Then take this Jewel, honour him as Lord,  
And in thy bosom warmest seats afford.  
She then advancing with majestic gate,  
Looking too high to view so low a mate,  
Trod on him unawares, and slew him straight.   

Then said the Lion weeping o'er his friend;  
Great are the woes unequal beds attend.  
Therefore I judge thou art more happy dead  
Than those lie tortured in a scornful bed,  
Where Praetors on their bleeding hearts are fed.   

MORAL  
Who dare a combat with the devil try,  
Are often vanquished by a Lady's eye:  
Those that from Schools and hot dispute come,  
Are at a Woman's presence strucken dumb.    


11  THE ELEVENTH FABLE. Of the Boar and the Ass.  

THe Ass preferred from toil, and tedious roads,  
Labours no more now under packs and loads:  
That Goddess blind  
To Ass' kind,  
Gave him trappings, and a golden saddle;  
With the Horse he prances, with the Ape he modes,  
And spends his time in fiddle fadle.   

His once short maine is powdered, curled, and dried;  
He wears heart breakers too with ribbons tide;  
No more he brays,  
But loudly neighs  
Love verses, madrigals and fancies  
To some she Ass, his mistress; by her side  
No hobby horse more proudly dances.   

The warlike Boar who never knew to yield,  
Who oft with blood, and foam, had died the field;  
He round be set  
And in the net  
Would break through Hounds, like tamer Cattles,  
Charge horse, and man, spear, sword, and shield,  
This beast, th' Ass challengeth to battle.   

Sir, I have heard a Soldier's horse well shod,  
His Arms, his Sword, and Pistol, are his God:  
And you I know  
Have seen the foe,  
By your buff-jerken, and your bristles:  
'Tis like the paths of honour you have trod,  
Where Roses do not grow, but Thistles.   

Fortune hath courted me, and I court Fame;  
And though the arms we use are not the same,  
The golden Ass  
Will try a pass  
With your Boarship in a duel;  
'Tis true I ne'er was tried by wild or tame,  
Yet honour I esteem a jewel.   

The warlike Boar viewing the Ass so brave,  
Perceiving yet in him more fool than knave;  
Though sudden rage  
Bids him engage,  
Yet with an Ass he scorns to meddle,  
As Merchants trafficking through th' azure wave  
To deal with those bear packs and pedle.   

But to the high-fed beast the Boar thus spoke;  
Thou art not worth my anger, nor a stroke;  
Yet i'll not stick  
To give you a kick,  
But for a combat choose a brother;  
And there with equal arms yourselves provoke;  
One Ass must always beat another.   

MORAL.  
Let valiant men themselves from Cowards bless,  
Lest Fortune favouring fools grant them success:  
Who deal with such, oft conscious shame disarms,  
While hope of honour, the faint-hearted warms.    


12  THE TWELFTH FABLE. Of the Frogs desiring a King.  

SInce good Frogpadock Jove thou didst translate,  
How have we suffered turned into a State?  
In several interests we divided are;  
Small hope is left well grounded peace t' obtain,  
Unless again  
Thou hear our prayer  
Great King of Kings, and we for Kings declare,   

That Supreme power may on the people be  
Settled, 'tis true; but who that day shall see?  
Men, beasts, and birds; nay Bees their King obey.  
When wealthy Regions factious Counsels steer,  
Destruction's near.  
Thus night and day,  
Grant us a King, a King, the Frogs did pray.   

Jove hears, and smiles at their vain suit; but when  
The great affairs he saw of Gods and men  
Vexed with their clamoring, down a block he threw;  
With a huge fragor circling billows roll  
From pole to pole:  
The people flew,  
And far from such a thundering Prince withdrew.   

At last all calm and silent, in great State  
On silver billows he enthroned sat,  
Admired and reverenced by every Frog:  
His brow like fate without or frown or smile  
Struck fear a while;  
Then all the bog  
Proclaim their King, and cry Jove save King Log.   

But when they saw he floated up and down,  
Unactive to establish his new Crown;  
Some of the greatest of them without dread  
Draw nearer to him; now both old and young  
About him throng,  
On's Crown they tread,  
And last, they play at leapfrog o'er his head.   

Straight they proclaim a fast, and all repair  
To vex Heaven's King again with tedious prayer;  
This stock, this wooden Idol to remove;  
Send them an active Prince, a Monarch stout,  
To lead them out,  
One that did love  
New realms to conquer, and his old improve.   

Jove grants their suit, o'er them the Stork he puts,  
Straight through the fens the dreadful Longshanks struts  
Devowring Subjects with a greedy maw.  
Again the Frogians with a doleful croak  
Heaven's King invoke,  
He would withdraw  
This cruel Prince that made his Will a Law.   

Then, th' angry God in thunder answered these;  
To change your government great Jove did please,  
And you I gave a peaceful Sovereign:  
Since he disliked you, by the Stygian lake  
A vow I make,  
The Stork shall reign,  
And you for evermore repent in vain.   

MORAL  
No government can th' unsettled vulgar please,  
Whom change delight's think quiet a disease,  
Now Anarchy and Armies they maintain,  
And wearied, are for King and Lords again.    


13  THE THIRTEENTH FABLE. Of the Frog and the Ox.  

FRom the Hydropic kingdoms of the bog,  
Up to a verdant mead,  
With green Plush Carpets spread,  
Comes a proud Frog;  
Who once did tread  
Upon the head  
Of his own gracious Sovereign mild King Log.  
Whom fat with mighty spoil  
Of the rich wooden Isle  
The Stork pursued, the new Malignant flies,  
And now in shady Grass in safety lies.   

Amongst the bellowing Herds, and bleating flocks,  
This Frog by chance espies  
Of a prodigious size  
A stall-fed Ox,  
Such chines and thighs  
Good stomaches prize,  
And bones with marrow big as hollow Okes;  
Wide was his spreading horn  
As Evening from the Morn:  
When thus the Frog in length not half a span  
Stuffed up with envy, and self-love began.   

I who once greatest of our Nation seemed;  
Now standing by this clown,  
Whose flesh might feast a town,  
Am unesteemed,  
And up and down  
Hop' thou't renown;  
Though no such bullcalf my dear mother teemed;  
With wind my sides and back  
I'll swell until they crack;  
Fancy shall help, a revelation now  
Bids me be great, as th' offspring of the Cow.   

Thus having said, on his design he falls;  
And both with wind and pride  
He swells his back and side;  
To his son then calls:  
And said, My hide  
Now grows as wide  
As that in thongs once measured Carthage walls.  
Nor on a larger Chine  
Did valiant Ajax dine,  
When him the Grecian General did invite  
Unfoyld by Hector in a single fight.   

Then spoke his son: Father you strive in vain,  
To me you not appear  
So big as his cropped ear;  
Ah do not strain,  
The wind I fear  
Your sides will tear;  
And though your soul may a new body gain,  
A father I shall lack;  
Should you bear on your back  
A Castle, and inspire an Elephant,  
The Mouse your deadly foe you shall not want.   

Thus the wise son to his fond father spoke,  
While he did strive in vain  
Four winds to entertain  
In one small nook:  
Regions where rain  
And hail remain  
Must in his bosom be, as prisoners took;  
At last he grew as full  
As Toads live in a scull,  
When at a mighty rapture enters death,  
And air confined, now flies with vital breath.   

Then spoke the son, over his gasping sire,  
Hadst thou contented been  
With this thy little Inn,  
Not aiming higher,  
Here thou hadst seen  
Good days again,  
But thou like Icarus didst too much aspire,  
On thy King's neck hast trod,  
Now th' Ox th' Egyptian God  
Strov'st to be like: so the proud Angels fell,  
And though in Heaven, not knew when they were well.   

MORAL  
To strive what seems impossible to get,  
A Supererogation is of wit,  
Not folly now, when every day we see  
What men thought once impossible to be.    


14 15  THE FOURTEENTH FABLE. Of the Wolf and the Lamb.  

IT fortuned the fierce Wolf and tender Lamb,  
Vexed with high noon, and Phoebus' scorching flame,  
To quench their thirst to one cool river came.   

To whom the Wolf betwixt his draughts, with slow  
Yet rancourous speech, thus spoke: How darest thou blow  
My drink, and with thy feet up gravel throw?   

Son of a rotten Sire; how dared thou (slave  
To cruel man, who with thy fleece doth save  
Himself from cold) fowl this clear silver wave?   

The Lamb astonished, struck with sudden fear,  
To see his glowing eyes, and brizly hair,  
Said, Sir be patiented, and your anger spare.   

I humbly crave your pardon, that so near,  
And at one time with you I water here;  
Yet under favour still your stream is clear.   

I am beneath, Sir, if you please to note,  
And from your mouth to mine the waters float;  
It passeth yours before it touch my throat.   

The fell Wolf grind, his eyes like firebrands glow;  
Oh cursed race, he said, to mine a foe,  
Still plotting harmless Wolves to overthrow;   

Thy father, mother, sacrilegious Lamb,  
And all thy bleating kindred, from the damn  
Style themselves guiltless, but I guilty am;   

And none dare say you in Wolves habit come,  
And tear dead bodies from the new built tomb,  
And poor Woolves then for your offences doom.   

Dogs once our brethren, cursed Curs, you lead,  
Against our race, who now will hear us plead?  
When you're the cause of all the blood is shed.   

Now by our King Lycaon's crown I swear,  
So wronged by that rebellious Jupiter,  
Affronted thus, no longer i'll forbear.   

Thus having said, at the poor Lamb he flies,  
His cruel teeth a purple river dies,  
While warm blood spurtles in his face and eyes.   

MORAL.  
They that have power to do, may when they will  
Pick quarrels, and pretending justice, kill.  
Who hunt for blood, and spoil, need not invent  
New crimes, but lay their own on th' innocent.    


16  THE FIFTEENTH FABLE. Of the Wolf and the Crane.  

BUt while the Wolf devoured the innocent Lamb,  
Raising her voice and eyes to heaven, the damn  
Implored revenge: Pan from the shepherd's coat  
To Menalus heard, and fixed a bone in's throat.  
He wonders what obstructs, who warder stood;  
Stopping so old a thoroughfare of blood.  
What shall he do? or where now find a cure?  
Great was the danger, nor could he endure  
The pain, while he over hill and dale did pass  
To native realms, where his own Surgeon was.   

When on a rising bank hard by, he spied  
Beline the Ram: he could but be denied;  
And though his teeth blushed with the purple gore  
Of his dear son, slain near his mother's door,  
Yet he would try; in some mischances, foes  
Will with our friends, commiserate our woes.  
Upon this score he went, and thus bespoke  
The King, and horned father of the flock.   

Sir, may your wives be numerous, and bear  
Twins always, and be pregnant twice a year.  
And may your beauteous son, who on youn bank  
Conferred with me, where we together drank,  
Be golden fleeced, and when his horns grow large,  
To thousand Yews, a husband's love discharge.   

'Tis true, our nations long at odds have been;  
Yet why should public jars raise private spleen?  
Let there my Lord no personal difference be;  
Or strive we, let us strive in Courtesy.  
Favours may purchase love, love peace may win,  
Quarrels may end, since once they did begin.   

Suspecting plots, his Bell, wise Beline rung,  
When troops of Rams to guard his person throng.  
Then said; Your business Sir? be brief; and know,  
It must be lawful, that I grant a foe.  
When with dejected look thus Isgrim spoke;  
A bone sticks cross my throat, some pity take,  
And draw it forth; and when the silver Moon  
Makes low-browd night faintly resemble noon,  
The Goddess i'll beseech, you never may  
Want Grass in Summer, nor in Winter Hay,  
No floods in Autumn, no destructive cold  
Send scabs, nor rots depopulate your fold.  
And She will hearken to our pious race.  
Oft when She 'swounds, and notes of tinkling brass  
Cannot recall, nor colour her pale lips,  
Our cries have rescued from a dark Eclipse.  
Then Beline said; Impudent Woolf be gone,  
Who knows, but late thou hast some murder done,  
And this a judgement due to thy desert.  
On pain of death our quarters leave, depart.   

Thus to the shaggy Goat, he did complain,  
To the swift Dear, and the dull Ox in vain;  
They all refuse, and say, no punishment,  
On ravening Wolves, can be unjustly sent.   

When stalking through the Marsh he meets the Crane,  
(Low-Country people know no God but gain)  
To whom the Wolf thrice Congeeing began;  
May your plumed Phalanx pass the Ocean,  
To Northern Regions safe, and landing there,  
May all the Pigmy kingdoms shake with fear.  
And may you Conqueror o'er the dwarfish ranks,  
Triumph on Strymon, or Caysters' banks.  
But to your friend be kind, and draw a bone  
Sticks in his throat, ingrateful i'm to none;  
Then i'll a Trout present thee sweet and good,  
Cleansed in a silver stream, and free from mud.  
If that not satisfy, most noble Crane,  
To please thy  this whole Fen i'll drain.   

He undertakes the cure, nor plucked he oft  
With his long bill, but Isgrim's well, and coughed.  
The Bird demands his pay; the Wolf at that  
With a sour smile replied: Sir Crane for what,  
For plucking out a bone are thy demands?  
Thou mightst have stretched, fool, on these yellow sands,  
Venturing thy long bill in my throat, thy head  
I freely gave, thank me thou art not dead.  
Or come and draw another out, though loath  
I shall reward thee nobly then for both.  
When to himself, the grieved Crane mourning said;  
Great favours thus, are by th' ingrateful paid.   

MORAL.  
So Merchants having scaped a dangerous Sea,  
Mocks to their Saints for promised offerings pay:  
But some more impious having touched dry land,  
Think they perform, to let their Statues stand.    

THE SIXTEENTH FABLE. Of the Husbandman and the Serpent.  

WHen a cold storm confirmed the trembling bogs,  
And drove to warmer springs the naked Frogs,  
With's prong on's back a simple farmer  
Boldly goes  
Through frost and snows,  
Ice on's beard, fire in's nose,  
A freeze jerkin all his armour;  
To feed Sheep, and Cattles fodder.  
Where by chance he found  
Frozen to the ground  
Stretched at length a dying Adder.   

The cruel Serpent under deaths arrest,  
Strange, but the Fable hath sufficient test,  
He takes, and in his bosom lodges,  
Where at night  
His delight  
His dear wife he'll invite,  
And home again in haste he trudges.  
The viper as a precious jewel  
Straight he laid in moss,  
Putting sticks across  
Bustle out to fetch more fuel.   

Fresh warmth gave resurrection to the fiend,  
And from the dead the devil did ascend,  
His vital spirits returning;  
He now grown hot,  
Fresh poison got,  
Contriving straight a damned plot,  
With rage and malice burning.  
He uncoyls his speckled cable,  
And prepares by arms  
To seize all the farms,  
Of him that was so hospitable.   

And with injustice thus he taxed the Gods;  
Gives Jove to silly swains such warm abodes,  
When subtle Serpents must lie starving?  
Who else will deign,  
But this dull swain,  
To take us up and ease our pain,  
What ever our deserving?  
But leaves us gasping in a furrow;  
Or with a staff,  
When we are half  
Dead, kill, and so conclude our sorrow.   

I'll scorse my windy lodging for this grange;  
Nor is it robery to make a change,  
A cool house for a warmer;  
Him i'll assign  
What ere is mine,  
In open field to sup and dine,  
And here i'll play the Farmer.  
I'll take the charge of Sheep and ,  
And when there's need  
On them i'll feed.  
This said, he straight prepares for battle.   

His Nervy back, and his voluminous train,  
Are both drawn up to charge one single swain,  
His eyes like Aetna flaming,  
His sting he whets,  
His scales he sets,  
Now up and down the room he jets,  
With hisses war proclaiming:  
He, stools and tables forms embraces,  
Wreathing about  
Now in, now out,  
And takes possession of all places.   

Mean while the Rustic had with sounding strokes  
Whole Elms disrobed, and naked left tall Okes,  
To bring the Snake home store of fuel:  
Little the good  
Man understood  
Whom he saved would seek his blood,  
And with the devil to have a duel.  
But when he came into the entry,  
It made him quake  
To see the Snake  
Stand, like an ugly Soldier centrie.   

Not staying to plead the goodness of his cause,  
Armed with a stake up the bold Shepherd draws  
To save his house and dwelling;  
Well he knows,  
He must oppose;  
Though fire and poison arm your foes,  
At first charge them rebelling.  
A horse and arms the Knight could brag on.  
This with a stake  
Assaults the Snake  
Swollen with fury to a Dragon.   

Long time the fight was equally maintained;  
The Shepherd now, and now, the Serpent gained;  
Chance gave the swain the better:  
When with a stroke  
Three ribs he broke,  
And words with blows thus mixing spoke,  
Sir, still I am your debtor;  
I tender thus my house and cattle.  
The Serpent flies  
And quarter cries,  
And once more dying quits the battle.   

Spawn of th' old Dragon, worm, ingrateful wretch,  
(Than lights a blow which made his long sides stretch,)  
What, do you cry peccavie?  
Unworthy soul  
Thinkest thou a hole  
Will shelter like a worm or mole  
And from my fury save thee?  
I'll sign your lease first on your shoulder;  
Next take this souse,  
And then my house;  
Now go, and be a good freeholder.   

With what he meant for fire, a knotty stake,  
He warms the Serpent's sides until they ache,  
Then on his breast he tramples:  
His purple head  
Waxed pale as lead  
His golden scales with blood were red;  
Live now he said among examples,  
While this tough cudgel lasts i'll bang thee;  
I to my grief  
Have saved a thief  
That would have been the first to hang me.   

MORAL  
Ingrateful men are marshalled in three ranks,  
This not returns, the second gives no thanks,  
Evil the last for good repays, and this  
Of all hell's monsters the most horrid is.    


17  THE SEVENTEENTH FABLE. Of the sick Kite and his mother.  

THe Kite first steeredge taught to Mariners,  
By which strange lands they found, and unknown stars,  
And took from Seas imaginary bars.  
They saw when heaven was clear  
His plumy rudder steer,  
Starboard and Larboard, plying here, now there.   

These Sailors having a good voyage made,  
Near Kitish seats rich vessels did unlade,  
And to that Prince a royal banquet made:  
Him, with fat offerings fed,  
With Oil, Wine, moist and red;  
Which Surfeit a Malignant Fever bred.   

And now, who long by rapine and by stealth  
Had heaped up riches, lost his former health,  
More worth to mortals than all worldly wealth:  
In his well-feathered nest,  
The sick bird takes no rest,  
When to his mother he himself confessed.   

Mother you know, and I now to my grief,  
That I have lived a most notorious thief,  
Robbing for pleasure, oftener than relief.  
I, once from th' Altar, stole,  
With flesh a kindled coal,  
Which burned my nest high as the lofty Pole.   

Such are my sins, no God I dare implore,  
Lest they should know I live, and punish more:  
You for your son may pray as heretofore.  
Let heaven but grant me health,  
I'll give the Church my wealth,  
And orders take, repenting former stealth.   

Then to her son the mother made reply:  
Ah my dear bird, couldst thou but oncemore fly,  
And cut with fanning wings the ample sky,  
Wert hungry once again,  
Thou'lt rob the Lion's den,  
Spoil th' eagle's nest, and pillage Gods and men.   

MORAL  
A golden robe in Winter is too cold,  
Too hot in Summer is a beard of gold:  
Church robbers thus cram impious coffers still,  
And greedy men count sacrilege Gods will.    


18  THE EIGHTEENTH FABLE. Of the Old Hound and his Master.  

OLd Dog 'tis thou must do it, come away,  
Within a thicket near  
Is lodged a gallant Dear,  
We must not, friend, neglect so brave a prey.  
Killed, thou and I will feast,  
To morrow and to day,  
Upon the slaughtered beast,  
Then come I say.  
Remember once a Conqueror thou wert,  
And seizing didst pull down a mighty Hart,  
When the King's swiftest dogs thou didst outstrip;  
This said, the Huntsman let his old Hound slip.   

The roused Dear flies for life, the Dog to kill,  
Through Lawns, o'er hills and dales,  
So swift the Nimble gales  
Seem in their faces, turn which way they will.  
Ready to pinch, Kilbuck  
With air his mouth did fill,  
At last the Dear he took  
Yet was deluded still:  
His fangs grown old, now fail, and what vexed more,  
He crossed a proverb, says, old Dogs by't sore.  
Then stripes resound upon his panting side,  
Who while his Master beat him, loud thus cried.   

Ingrateful Lord, once I did save thy life,  
When thou by thy own Hounds  
Were't chased through neighbouring grounds,  
Transformed like to Actaeon by thy wife.  
You a horned monster, Sir,  
I knew, and venturing life  
Beat off the leading cur;  
But these rewards are rise:  
Thus Masters former-services forget;  
This not new way to pay old servants debt.  
Ah me poor wretch, and must the proverb hold?  
A serving creature is a Beggar old.   

MORAL.  
Servants beware, oft is but little space  
Betwixt preferment, and the loss of place.  
Ladies are fickle, and fantastic Lords  
Would see new faces waiting at their boards.    


19  THE NINTEENTH FABLE. Of the Hares and Frogs.  

WHile a huge tempest through the wood resounds,  
The frighted Hares  
Prick up their ears,  
Supposing loud mouthed gusts, shrill horns & Hounds,  
And leave their native seats, and ancient bounds;  
Winged with vain fear, th' outstrip the thundering  
Not one durst make a halt, or look behind.   

A stream th' encounter, swollen up to the brim,  
Which a full cloud  
Had made so loud  
As ranting Auster; this they dare not swim,  
Viewing the hollow wave it looked so grim.  
Nor durst the valiant Hares once backward look;  
The Devil's behind, the Devil is in the brook.   

One of the gravest, here did courage take,  
When he did spy  
The Frogians fly  
At their approach, and did their camps forsake  
To shelter in the bosom of the lake.  
Then bids them stand, and make the front the rear;  
Vain is the Frog's, as vain may be our fear.   

All do as he commanded, not one stirs;  
When soon they find  
Threats empty wind,  
Which did not hurt, but discompose their furs:  
Then thus he said; There is from barking Curs  
No danger; we are swift, and strong, all parts  
We have, that makes good Soldiers up, but hearts.   

Fortune assists the bold, and he that dares,  
Though but a swain,  
May Sceptres gain;  
But whom cold blood beleaguers with base fears,  
That start at every sound like timorous Hares,  
At Court not thrives, nor in the Martial lists,  
Nor Venus in loves Conduct them assists.   

MORAL.  
Strange are effects of fear; danger to shun  
On grim death's sternest visages we run:  
Fear in a night will blast the Conquerors bays,  
And from starved Cities mighty armies raise.    


20  THE TWENTIETH FABLE. Of the Doves and Hawks.  

LOng had the Doves a happy peace enjoyed,  
Broaching no quarrel with their neighbour nations,  
Nor stirred up civil strife, with plenty cloyed;  
Than love the Pigeons had no other passions,  
They have no Gall,  
Nor know at all  
Dissension, nor stern Mars his angry mood,  
Nor pleasure taken in rapine nor in blood.   

But they Diana slighted, nor prepare  
For Pallas offerings, nor great Juno's Deity,  
To Venus and her Son is all their prayer;  
These powers offended highly with th' impiety,  
Did Mars entreat,  
Now in a heat,  
Since more Adonis, Venus did delight,  
To raise 'gainst gentle Doves, the cruel Kite.   

Moved by the Gods, the Kitish Prince proclaims  
War 'gainst the Turtles, and their wealthy regions;  
Far more than honour, booty him inflames,  
And from the North he musters feathered legions;  
The War grows hot,  
The Turtles not,  
Inur'd to battles, Camps, and fierce alarms,  
Many strong houses lose by force of arms.   

They call a Counsel, and consult of aid;  
They know the Hawk more valiant is and stronger,  
Would he take pay, they need not be dismayed,  
His pounces sharper be, his wing is longer,  
The Hawks desire  
But Soldier's hire,  
Their purse shall only for the Pigeon's fight,  
And they are certain to defeat the Kite.   

The Hawks are mustered, and the War renews,  
Soon they regain their Houses, Forts, and Castles,  
As soon the Pigeon their assistance rues;  
For those they hired, and were the Turtles vassals,  
Seized them for pay,  
And day by day,  
Their bowels rend, and tender body's plume,  
And more than Kites, the Dovish race consume.   

MORAL.  
Effeminate Nations, to long peace inur'd;  
Are by Auxiliaries ill secured:  
Who ere prove victors, they shall be the prize;  
But best your friend knows where the money lies.    


21  THE ONE AND TWENTIENH FABLE. Of the Dog and Thief.  

BOugh wow, who's there? Bow wow who's that dare break  
Into my master's house? first stand, then speak,  
Or else i'll have you by the throat; ne'er start  
You Sir, I'll know your business ere we part.  
Thus in the Cynic language, loud and brief,  
A true Dog barked, discovering a Thief.   

When softly thus nights pilfering minion said,  
This sacred silence, and the holy shade  
Of night, dear friend, disturb not, I am sent  
(Because thy master keeps a stricter Lent  
Than wiser mortals) with a sop to thee  
From Cerberus, at such fond piety  
From triple jaws exclaiming, he bids eat.  
Wise Sects who Nature serve forsake no meat.  
Then take this morsel and lie down to rest,  
Let not fleas thee, nor others thou molest.  
When thus the faithful Dog replied again:  
Hast thou thy habitation among men,  
And knowst not me? hast thou not heard how I  
Six Winter days, and stormy nights did lie  
Watching my murdered Lord? his bleeding head  
Three Spring tides washed on a cold Osier bed:  
At last with extreme hunger overcame,  
I to this house, through the broad River swum;  
Where well recruited, with warm Viands, then  
From hospitable boards, and living men,  
I crossed rough mountains with a silver head,  
To wait in open Mansions of the dead.  
At last they following me with swifter Oars,  
Where by the smell were found polluted shores  
They made a search, and ere I took my place,  
Kissed his pale lips, or licked his woeful face,  
My person they secured; then him interred,  
And I for faithfulness was thus preferred.   

Nay more than that: 'twas I the Murderer found,  
And with my forces first beleaguered round;  
Loud volleys spent with foam, with tooth and nail  
Fell on his quarters, all parts did assail,  
No man durst rate me off, no not the frown  
Of my dread Lord, until I plucked him down;  
And he cried out 'twas I thy master slew;  
Then fiercer Dogs upon him, Sergeants, flew:  
And thinkest thou i'll be treacherous for a crust?  
Dogs are than men more faithful to their trust.  
Not our Penates keep a stricter watch  
Over these seats, than I, such rogues to catch.  
Err, err, bough wow, thiefs thiefs, with speed awake.  
He frighted flies, the trusty Dog than spoke;   

But what he said, is dangerous now to tell:  
What tortures Cerberus told him were in hell  
For servants that are false; but they that sold  
Their Country, or their native King for gold;  
To them Judge Minos' deepest seats allots,  
Where molten gold they quaff in Iron pots,  
And when their blood with burning liquor fries,  
They get on Snakes the worm which never dies.   

MORAL.  
Servants that Sentinels to Princes are,  
When close Conspirers plotting civil War  
Do send them gold, if they prove faithful, then,  
They are the best, if false the worst of men.    


22  THE TWO AND TWENTIETH. Of the Wolf and Carved Head.  

Was it Allecto in that impious age  
Stirred up the people's rage?  
When dedicated temples they did spoil,  
And what no Prophet did presage,  
With Hero's broken Statues strewed the Isle,  
And horrid rudeness did Religion stile.  
This trod  
Upon the Image of his God,  
And that bold Soldier storms  
Heaven's Queen, and breaks the marble in her arms,  
Then man  
Began,  
Seeing vengeance slow fall from unwilling sky,  
To question truth, and sacred writ deny:  
Not fearing hell, nor hoped for heaven when they die.   

'Mongst legs, and arms, and bulks of men and Gods,  
Which lay in mighty loads,  
The sacrilegious Wolf, who preys by night,  
In sacred and profane abodes,  
Came, and with eyes casting malignant light,  
Through gloomy shades espied this joyful sight;  
And thought  
Some battle had been fought,  
Or fatal vespers had with blown-out lights,  
Mixed bloody butcheries with sacred rites.  
Where best  
To feast  
And be with blood and humane slaughter fed,  
He mused a while, then with much purple red,  
Painted to life, he saw a decollated head,   

The bloody neck inviting; straight he seized  
What little pleased;  
And in obdurate Oak his teeth engaged;  
Which not his hunger well appeased,  
Nor thirsty jaws with crimson draughts assuaged.  
Who while his broken fang extremely raged,  
Thus said,  
Beauty hath wit betrayed,  
All is not gold that glisters, and a fowl  
Cabinet oft, includes the fairest soul,  
They're wise  
Whose eyes  
With deep inspection on the inside look,  
Regarding not the gild of the book;  
But they are fools with Idol stocks, and stones are took.   

MORAL.  
A comely carriage, youth, and beauteous form,  
Take proudest hearts, and enter without storm:  
But when they find their list of virtues short,  
As suddenly they are expelled the Fort.     


23  THE FABLES OF AESOP. The Second BOOK.  

THE THREE AND TWENTIETH FABLE. Of the Lion grown old.  

COme all, come all, take your revenges full,  
My Cousin Horse, the Boar, the Bear and Bull;  
Come all you free born-beasts, and now no more  
Tremble to hear the cruel Lion roar;  
The Forest now is ours; that Tyrant which  
So long proud Sceptres swayed, in yonder ditch  
Lies bedrid, brays the Ass; then come each one  
And give him ample Retribution,   

And I'll redeem my reputation lost:  
The Lion now shall know unto his cost,  
The Ass is no such dastard, nor so dull;  
Then come, come all, and take revenges full.   

This said, the vulgar rush, both wild and tame,  
Where the old Lion lay, weak, sick, and lame:  
His Crown they seize, upon his Sceptre tread,  
And pull his Royal Ermine o'er his head.   

When round his eyes the dying Monarch cast,  
And as he viewed them, groaning, spoke his last,  
I did not well, when I had strength and power,  
So many loving Subjects to devour,  
Whose friends take just revenge; but where are they  
Who drank with me their blood, and shared the prey,  
To guard my person, from their cruel rage?  
Some my dim sight presents, who now engage  
With greater malice: ah for which good deed  
Friends do you tear my side? You make me bleed?  
'Twas not well grounded policy of S●●te  
By Arbitrary power to purchase hate;  
But I did worse, in choosing such false friends,  
That join with foes, having obtained their ends.   

MORAL  
When Kings are weak, then active Subjects strive  
To raise their power above Prerogative:  
Both friends and foes conspire with time and fates,  
Oft to reduce proud Kingdoms into States.    


24  THE FOUR AND TWENTIETH FABLE. Of the Dog and the Ass.  

WHy how now rogue, why rascal, hast thou got  
Thy breakfast yet, speak sirrah, hast thou not?  
Your whining and colloguing will not serve,  
Thy fat sides, villain, say, thou dost not starve,  
The master said to's Dog; then strokes his head;  
And claps his back, and neck: the Curwell bred  
With fawning postures first plays with his knee,  
Then leaps up to his breast, next who but he,  
His master's lap's his cushion, where at ease  
He lies, and torments the tormenting fleas.  
This put the sullen Ass in woeful dumps,   

Who his deep judgement for a reason pumps  
Why he should toil, and eat the bread of care,  
And th' idle Dog like his rich master fare.  
Then with a sigh he said;  
Have I with patience, and packsadles, broke  
My heart and sides, my back so many a stroke  
Endured, to make my greedy master rich?  
When his proud Steed lay fainting in a ditch,  
And cried no more he'd be a Pack horse made:  
I took the burden from the pampered jade,  
And bore it stoutly through a tedious road.  
And yet this Whelp, this cringing A-la-mode  
With Bells, and Collar, hair in th' Island guise,  
Feeds with his Lord, and on soft Couches lies.  
And why? because he'll sport, and fawn, and cog,  
He knows no other duty of a Dog.  
This, keeps no Sheep, nor takes foul Swine by th' ear,  
Near barks at Thiefs, nor plays at Bull or Bear,  
But a mere foysting-Hownd; well, now I see,  
Not always strength, nor wit, nor industry  
Gain fortunes smile; too oft in Princes Courts  
Great favourites rise by jests, and idle sports;  
And Compliments: if so, there's none surpasses  
For compliment, your Complemental Asses.  
I am resolved their Dogships, Apeships all  
This day to imitate, fall, what may fall.   

This said, the Ass pricks his notorious ear,  
And like a Hobie-horse, or dancing Bear,  
Gins to move, now like a Spaniel plays,  
But still his own voice frights him when he brays.  
Then to his Master boldly he drew near:  
And at last charged him with a full Career,  
Then rising up takes with a rough embrace,  
About the neck, offers to lick his face,  
And with foul hoofs wanders all o'er his breast.  
With wonder then and sudden fear oppressed,  
Th' affrighted Master calls aloud for aid,  
Then Assinego for his folly paid;  
Who while his bones, Swains made with beating sore,  
He thus his chance did patiently deplore;   

My Genius, and my person I mistake,  
Not every block a Mercury will make;  
Foul ways, and heavy burdens better suit  
With Rustic Asses, than the Ivory Lute.  
All things befit not all, and imitation  
Is for the Ape, more than the Ass in fashion.   

MORAL.  
Oft airy jesters, and fantastic Drowls,  
Take more than wise, learnt, or industrious souls:  
A handsome Mien, a varnished outside can,  
More than the golden linings of a man.    


25  THE FIVE AND TWENTIETH FABLE. Of the Husbandman and Snake.  

THere dwelled a learned Serpent near a grove,  
Whom fortune did not love.  
She gave him want, whom Nature had made wise,  
And Industry had taught all Sciences.  
He knew each walk in Heavens great board of Chess,  
Where games not end in many thousand years,  
Can golden Hierogliphics all express  
Which fill the volumes of nine mighty spheres,  
He could the musters of heaven's army tell,  
And when Stars ruling seasons, rose, and fell.   

There was a Shepherd who by his advice  
Grew wealthy in a trice.  
His thousands wand'ring on Sicillian hills,  
Twice every day a milky River fills,  
His snowy pails: his numbers not decrease,  
When from the sky some dire contagion falls,  
When Herds & flocks scarce make up Death one mess,  
Thisipon raging in full coats and stalls.  
This Swain invites the Snake his house to grace,  
And live with him, the Genius of the place.   

He that the wisest charmer would not hear  
Gave to this rustic ear,  
Resolved to leave sad hunger, cold, and care,  
For roofs, where warmth and plenty were.  
Nor long he sojourned, when th'ill natured Swain,  
Vexed that he could not fallen a stubborn Oak,  
With the same hatchet would his guest have slain,  
And raging charged him with a mighty stroke;  
Hardly with life the wounded Serpent fled  
To his own seats, and frighted hides his head.   

Those whom we wrong, we hate: what arts the stern  
Rustic before did learn  
From the wise Serpent, now seemed poor, and cheap:  
Who Winds and Stars observe, not Sow, nor Reap.  
Him Industry, and Fortune happy made;  
But not long after Udders full, wax dry,  
A chaffy ear shoots from a withered blade;  
His Corn is blasted, Sheep and Cattles die.  
Suppliant he stands then at the Serpent's door,  
And thus desires his company once more.   

Wise as thyself, than Doves more innocent,  
The injury I repent;  
And though 'tis Justice, since thy head did feel  
My cruel axe, that thou shouldst bruise my heel;  
Yet pardon me, and once more I entreat,  
That thou wouldst bless my little house again:  
Then spoke the Serpent from his low-roofed seat,  
Though the wound's whole, the memory I retain;  
Yet I'll forgive the wrong, but never more  
While thou a hatchet hast come in thy door.   

MORAL.  
What pleasure hath full boards, when, o'er our head,  
A ponderous sword hangs on a twisted thread?  
Fly dangerous company, when Choler burns,  
Oft Princely cheer, to bloody banquets turns.    


26  THE SIX AND TWENTIETH FABLE. Of the Fox and the Crane.  

NOble Sir Crane, I tarried at my gate,  
You, and your victory to congratulate.  
I heard the battle was both sharp and long,  
The Pigmies are a nation fierce and strong.  
Be pleased good Sir to light,  
And take a bait with me; 'tis long to night;  
Thus did the Fox the mounted Crane invite.   

The Crane not doubted but the Fox could gibe,  
As well as any of his subtle tribe.  
But the sharp air amongst Riphaean rocks,  
Where nothing was but hunger, cold, and knocks,  
Provoked his appetite;  
Besides, a savoury steam did him invite,  
And his long Nose now stood in his own light.   

At last Fox-Hall they enter, where they found  
A table in a broathie deluge drowned:  
Broth must not cool; This piddles with his bill,  
While young Sir Reynard did whole Rivers swill,  
Licks up the Mediterrane,  
Drinks misty Bays, then guzzels up the Main,  
Till the board's weinscot face appears again.   

When to himself the vexed Crane said; did I  
That Giant Pigmy kill twelve inches high,  
When breaking of our eggs a Sea he made?  
Him, spitted on this bill with wings displayed  
I carried o'er the rocks:  
And shall this long-tailed Cur, this Fox-furred Fox  
Abuse me? must my shoulders bear his mocks?   

It must not be; this said, he wipes his bill,  
As if that he had banqueted his fill,  
And Reynard then invites with many thanks,  
To taste a dish brought from Ca●sters banks.  
The Fox consents, nor did  
Believe the Crane to any thing would bid  
His Worship to, unless Veal, Lamb, or Kid.   

Th' appointed hour is kept, and as he wished  
Choice Cates he found, but in glass Viols dished.  
This diving with his beak sweet morsels picks,  
With watery Jaws dry glass Sir Reynard licks;  
Then said; I have deserved  
With Tantalising banquets to be starved,  
And am with tricks for tricks most justly served.   

MORAL.  
The most ingenious scoffs, and bitterest taunts  
Are best revenged with the like affronts:  
But many times from them such rancour breeds,  
That he that laughed at first, soon after bleeds.    


27  THE SEVEN AND TWENTIETH FABLE. Of the File and the Viper.  

Waste ill-advising Hunger did persuade,  
Or Anger, that fond Viper to invade  
A horrid File, which had an iron husk,  
Scorned the Sharkstooth, defied the wild Boars tusk;  
It had a skin so hard, and rough,  
As that infernal coat of Buff  
The Luciferian General had on  
In the first grand Rebellion:  
Which no Celestial arm  
Can harm,  
Or pierce,  
But his, who guides the Stars, and rules the Universe.   

But Anger gave the cause he so mistook;  
He knew the sweeting Artist was not Cook.  
Who with this File that day had polished  
The Snakes which Periwig the Gorgon's head,  
And had filled down the speckled mail,  
Which shining armed th' old Dragon's tail;  
He thought those Snakes alive had been,  
And strange tortures he had seen.  
Since on the man he could not light.  
To by't,  
He glides  
Raging with venomed tooth, to pierce strong Iron sides.   

The secure File, whilst he did gnaw and by't,  
Smiling lay still; at length it laughed out right;  
Finding his foe no Ostrich weapons had,  
To murder Horse-shoos, and devour a Gad.  
Then thus began, Desist for shame,  
Thou hurtst not me, I'm still the same:  
When thou beginst a War, not only know  
Thy own, but forces of the foe:  
Thou seest I lie upon my back,  
And crack  
Thy Gums:  
He is not wise with his own strength himself o'ercomes.   

MORAL.  
Fools that with spleen and fury are possessed,  
Not mind their own, nor public interest▪  
Some, vexed abroad, on their domestics fall;  
Or bruise their knuckles on a senseless wall.    


28  THE EIGHT AND TWENTIETH FABLE. Of the Hart.  

THe Hart beholding in a fountain clear  
His stately crest,  
With Antlers dressed,  
Admiring said, I am a gallant Dear.  
How many in the Park like me appear?  
Where is the beast that can,  
Or the Cornuted man,  
Show such a horny Forest on his head?  
Nor could that mighty Stag,  
Arms like these weapons brag,  
Which with the famous Clubman combated,  
Nor were Actaeon's branches fairer spread.   

But his supporters did stir up his Gall:  
'Mongst all the ranks  
Of spindle shanks,  
None were so little, none had legs so small.  
Both God and Nature he unjust did call,  
To mount him like the Crane,  
On four limbs less than twain.  
Such spiny shins ne'er went in any road;  
Those Usher dames boast half,  
His legs had ne'er a calf;  
He wonders that on Stilts he durst abroad,  
And why four sticks bore such a gallant load.   

Thus while he descanted on every part,  
The wood resounds  
With horns and hounds;  
Like to a Scytbian shaft, or Indian dart,  
Or clouds with tempest driven, flies the Hart:  
Those Legs he so much scorns  
Did save him, but his Horns  
Entangled 'mongst thick boughs made him a prey▪  
Who spoke with weeping eyes,  
Poor friends I did despise,  
Who me from Dogs and Hunters did convey,  
But Pride, vain Pride, did the proud Hart betray.   

MORAL.  
Too much we value Beauty, Wit, and Arts,  
Since oft great men are ruined by their parts  
Some with small learning, and a slender list  
Of virtues, frowns of fickle Chance resist.    


29  THE NINE AND TWENTIETH FABLE. Of Birds and Beasts.  

A Difference 'twixt Birds and Beasts arose,  
But how no story shows;  
Traditions tell, that Beasts  
In trees would build their nests;  
Others, that Birds did Forest lands enclose;  
But hot debate at last did come to blows.   

Both Feathered, and  not delay,  
To muster and array;  
And as the nations use,  
Their Generals they choose:  
The Eagle must the winged Legions sway,  
The Lion, in great bodies Beasts, obey.   

Poets and Painters added to their force,  
The feathered Griphon and the winged Horse;  
Than those no other dare  
Tempt Castles in the air,  
Nor through untracted sky to bend their course,  
Among steep rocks the eagle's nest to force.   

The Bat observing that the bestial power  
Increased every hour,  
How Lions, Wolves, Bears and Boars,  
Dogs and Horses filled the shores,  
Enough ten flying armies to devour,  
Straight he revolts, and yields his airy tower.   

Both sides engage, there was a mighty fight,  
From morning until night;  
Beasts well maintain their place,  
Birds charge them in the face:  
The Eagle by advantages of height,  
Both savage and domestic put to flight.   

The treacherous Bat was in the battle took:  
All hate the traitors look,  
He never must display,  
Again his wings by day,  
But hated live in some foul dusty nook,  
'Cause he his Country in distress forsaken.   

MORAL.  
Wisemen are valiant, and of honest minds;  
Treacherous subtle, and explore all winds:  
Or King or State their ruin they'll endure,  
May they from Sequestration be secure.    


30  THE THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Jay and Peacocks.  

WHo hath not heard of that most cruel fight,  
When by the Eagle beasts were put to flight?  
When, from supplies fell in at setting sun  
Of Harpies, Furies, and sad Birds of night,  
Tigers like Steers, like Sheep bold Lions run:  
Then first on Birds and Beasts men to the height  
Did feasts themselves, and they who often prayed,  
On slaughtered armies, now a prey are made.   

'Mongst other chances of that dreadful day,  
A wing of Peacocks was discomfited:  
Their valiant leader 'mongst the foremost lay,  
His Angel-plumes died with his own blood red.  
This had a Page, a proud and foolish Jay,  
Whom, from an Egg, he in his nest had bred:  
This, strips his Lord, and boldly then assumes  
His train of Argos eyes, and gaudy plumes.   

When to the eagle's Court the proud Jay got,  
And like a Turkie-Cock struts up and down,  
Suing to draw in Juno's Chariot,  
As if those gaudy feathers were his own:  
With love fair Pea-hens, here he follows hot,  
Keeps company with noble birds, or none;  
Among the Wits, and Braveries did sit,  
And would be (strange) a bravery and a wit.   

His tongue condemned to everlasting prate,  
Boasting his Beauty, Wealth, and better notes,  
Brought on him first Suspicion, after Hate:  
(Peacocks, though Angels plumes, have Devils throats)  
At last they strip him, as he chattering sat,  
Of his fairy feathers, and his guadie coats;  
Naked, and banished from the court of birds,  
He to a doleful note, composed these words.   

I stand the true example of vain pride,  
Since I the Jayish nation did despise,  
Not only noble Birds will me deride,  
But I shall be a scorn to Jacks and Pies:  
Not Tyrian robes can birth and breeding hid,  
Let their own fortune still content the wise.  
And let all those that climb above their place,  
Stripped like me, and suffer such disgrace.   

MORAL.  
Whether Ambition, Virtue be, or Vice;  
Hath raised great disputations 'mong the nice:  
Who by unseen gradations reach a crown  
Heroes are styled, but Traitors tumbling down.    


31  THE ONE AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Woolves and Sheep.  

THe Wolves & Sheep, great Nations both, & strong,  
Had long  
A mighty War maintained:  
Great slaughter oft there was of old and young,  
With various chance, yet none the better gained.  
Finding their strength decayed, their treasure drained,  
With one consent Commissioners are chose,  
That might so great a difference compose,  
And join in lasting leagues such ancient foes.   

Long they not sat, when they conclude a peace:  
On these  
Few articles they straight agreed;  
The Wolves should give their Whelps up hostages,  
The Sheep their Dogs, their stout Molossian breed,  
And then they might in fields at pleasure feed;  
The Woolvish bands should sally forth no more  
From Wood nor Hill; no Wolf come near the door:  
To this horned 
* The Ram.  Beline, and fierce 
* The Wolf  Isgrim swore.   

And now on pleasant plains themselves the Sheep  
Do keep;  
No Dog of War to guard the Coat;  
All seem secure; they eat, and drink, and sleep:  
When the young Woolves extend a hungry throat,  
Wanting their dams, and raise a dismal note.  
Woolves cry the peace is broke, and like a shower  
Fell in their quarters, and whole Flocks devour.  
Neither to friend nor foe give up your power.   

MORAL.  
Not Hostages, though Sons, the foe can bind,  
If they an evident advantage find:  
Let Mothers weep, die Children, suffer Friends,  
The Ambitious vallews nothing but his ends.    


32  THE TWO AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Wolf and the Fox.  

THat night what slaughter did the fields imbrue,  
When from the Woods, & Hills, the Woolvish crew,  
Pretending rescue of their cursed brood,  
Howling the peace was broke,  
Fell on the guiltless flock,  
And satisfied their ravening jaws with blood!  
They who a solemn League and Covenant swore,  
But one short day before,  
Then slew Ram Beline at the Shepherd's door,  
And with him slaughtered many thousands more.   

'Mong these was one whom Woolves themselves did call,  
For rapine, Plunder-Master-Generall;  
This having stuffed, in that great Massacer,  
His den with fattest Sheep,  
Resolves a feast to keep,  
And sit in State alone like Kings to far,  
When with self-kindnesse struck, he thus began;  
I fear nor Dog nor Man;  
I scorn the Swain, and Sheep-Protector Pan;  
Soul take thy rest; do they the worst they can.   

A crafty Fox, who strict account did keep,  
Of those well-fed, and golden-fleeced Sheep  
He, by the horns, that night to's den had drawn,  
Two days and long nights waits,  
Expecting open gates;  
When with the greedy worm his bowels gnawn,  
Aloud he calls; Ho! Colonel, how d'ye far?  
Be pleased to take the air;  
And since the Woolvish army Conquerors are,  
Keep not within, nor spirits waste with care.   

The Wolf perceived the Fox desired to feast,  
And in his absence make himself a guest;  
When with a heavy groan, he thus returns;  
Ah dearest Cousin, I  
Am sick, am like to die;  
In a hot  all my body burns.  
In that night's service, I provoked with zeal,  
To serve the Commonweal,  
After much toil, would needs stand Sentinel,  
Where I took cold, which did my blood congeal.   

In my stopped veins rules adventitious heat;  
Swift doth my pulse like an alarm beat;  
My throat so dry, that Seas of Sheepish blood,  
Which still did use to cure  
The Woolvish Calenture,  
Commixed with humane gore, will do no good.  
Desire not to come in; Cousin, I fear,  
'Tis dangerous; spots appear:  
My short breath tells me my departure's near;  
Ah! that I had some zealous Pastor here.   

Thin hunger now gives place to swelling rage;  
Thirst of revenge spurs Reynard to engage  
With mortal foes; who, straight thus calls a Swain;  
Ho! Shepherd, come away;  
Make this a holiday,  
The Wolf, by whom such loss you did sustain,  
I'll bring you to, be pleased to Fancy then  
Me, with his goods and den,  
And clear my score of Lamb, Kid, Goose, and Hen.  
The Shepherd grants, and calls his Dogs and men.   

Mean while the Wolf did sit at joyful feasts;  
When at his gates he heard no welcome guests.  
Repeated surfeits oft make courage fail.  
Up starts his briefly hair,  
His fiery eyes now stare,  
And Cowering 'twixt his legs he claps his tail.  
But out he must, and venture to the field;  
No quarter Shepherds yield:  
His pampered belly made him leaden heeled,  
That ere he ran six score, the Wolf was killed.   

This done, the man sets on his Dogs again,  
And Reynard seized; who dying did complain;  
I the sad Emblem am of rancourous spite.  
The foolish Fox repined,  
Because the Wolf had bind  
So well alone, and would not him invite.  
Thiefs falling out, thus true men get their own.  
His head must go to town:  
My skin must face some wealthy Burgher's gown.  
Thus Avarice hath the Wolf and Fox o'erthrown.   

MORAL.  
When Conquerors, rich with spoil, scorn Men and Gods,  
Chance unexepected shakes revenging rods.  
Are common Foes destroyed? th' unequal share  
From Complices will raise a second War.    


33  THE THREE AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Fly and the Ant.  

WHen the hot Dog-star, joined with Phoebus' beams,  
Drank broad-backd floods, to narrow-shoulderd streams,  
From the King's Palace comes the silken Fly,  
And cuts with sarsenet wing the sultry sky;   

From whence he saw black bands of labouring Aunts,  
(Mindful of Winter, and approaching wants)  
March through straight paths, on many shoulders born,  
Viewed a great Convoy guard one grain of corn.   

Then to himself he said; 'tis wondrous strange  
Aunts thus should toil, to fill some petty grange,  
When those in Courts, and Cities, with less pain,  
Oft in an hour get more than Rustics gain  
In their whole life: Clowns toil for cloth and milk,  
While Courtiers feast, and flaunt in gold and silk  
Purchased in kidskin gloves a thousand ways;  
None ere by sweat did a great fortune raise.  
Then to a labouring Ant, the Fly did call,  
And makes comparisons odious unto all.   

What art thou wretch, to me? worm, thou dost creep,  
And liv'st in Caves, when I my Palace keep  
In Prince's Courts, and when the world is May,  
About their sun-reflecting towrs I play:  
Among Heaven's feathered Choristers I have flown,  
And to Celestial Music was the Drone.  
Thou water drinkest, and eatest the bread of care,  
And when your squadrons plunder, thou dost share  
Perhaps one grain of Wheat, gained with more toil,  
Than some get kingdoms, and subdue an Isle.  
I from the Margins of the golden bowl  
Drink liquor, that revives the saddest soul;  
Frees prisoners, cures the stripes of cruel rods,  
Makes Peasants Princes, and makes Princess Gods.  
On gilded ceilings my heels upward, I  
Over my broad shoulders looking down, espy  
Feasts for a mighty man, and full cups placed:  
At pleasure all those delicates I taste.   

Phoebus' my father was, me, he begot  
When his steeds fainting fell into a trot  
In the high Solstice; then my brother Fly  
Died by ambition in a Prince's eye:  
In his vast kingdoms he no place could find,  
But that to rest in, equal to his mind.   

Why should I boast that sad, yet happy Fate  
Of my dear Cousin, the renowned Gnat,  
Who with his Trumpet saved a sleeping Swain  
From the Snakes tooth, yet for the fact was slain?  
But soon th' ingrateful Shephered did repent,  
And built him an eternal monument;  
Whose Epitaph the 
* Virgil.  Prince of Poets made,  
And the first stone, with polished verses laid.   

Then spoke the Ant; Sir Fly, I in a cave  
Not golden beds, nor Ivory tables have;  
Yet I contented live though under ground,  
When thou dost wander like a vagabond;  
And where thou sojournests, those high abodes  
Are none of thine; thou hast no Household-gods;  
But when a tempest comes, and Fortune's frown  
Tumbles thy King, as other Princes down,  
Then in vast circles may the hungry Fly  
Round empty Halls, and keep his parched trunk dry;  
There shall the Spider subtle meshes spread,  
And having seized thee, feast upon thy head.   

And while She changes poison for sweet blood,  
Thou dying shalt in vain thy King and God  
Great Belzebub implore, who minds not thee,  
Nor pitying will those mighty slaughters see  
That Emperor makes, when he so many days  
To kill Flies, off all other business lays.   

That thou art Phoebus' Offspring thou mayst pride,  
But say, what art thou by the Mother's side?  
From excrement, or putrefaction sprung,  
Foul ordure brought thee forth, or Madam dung.   

Though I inhabit caves, and narrow cells,  
Yet mighty kingdoms, and great commonweals,  
Following examples of th' industrious Ant,  
Rise to their height; who labour shall not want.   

Thou that of idleness, and impertinence  
The Emblem art, go, seek a safe defence,  
In the great Shambles, from the Butchers Flap,  
That kills whole hundreds like a thunderclap.  
Go drown thyself in snuffs of drowsy Ale,  
Or leave the world, a straw thrust through thy tail:  
Compare with me? know, that the noble Ant,  
With Myrmidons, did once a kingdom plant.   

MORAL.  
Short life and merry, give me ease, this cries,  
While that with sweat and care his marrow dries:  
These are extremes; upon the medium fix;  
Study, and toil, with recreation mix.    


34  THE FOUR AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Fox and Ape.  

THe French Ape gives the Fox of Spain bon jour,  
Three Congees, and tres humble serviture:  
Than thus gins; In France we not endure  
To see long cloaks, all there  
Go in the shortest wear,  
But your large fashion, is the statelier sure.   

Pardonne moy, as we are all too short,  
In Courtaild Garments, A lafoy modes o'th' court,  
So with th' other extreme, yours Sir, doth sort.  
Be pleased to wear your fur  
A little shorter Sir,  
'Twill be as grave, and suit well with your port.   

Seigneur, I know your Tailor is not here,  
My Apeships workman, quickly with his Shears  
Shall cut you shorter, and myself will wear  
The remant of your train,  
Conformable to Spain.  
And then Don Degoes both we shall appear.   

Si Sennor, said the Fox, we Don's of Spain  
Are constant to our fashion, such a train  
My father's father wore, and to be plain,  
This long wear I will keep,  
Though it the Kennel sweep,  
Rather than give an Inch to Monsieur Vain.   

MORAL.  
Heaven to each Nation several Genius gave;  
The French too airy, Spaniards seem too grave:  
City, the Country, Courtiers both despise;  
Civil, and rude, most their own manners prise.    


35  THE FIVE AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Horse and the Ass.  

HE was a sole o'th' winds, or of the breed  
Which Circe's stole, got by a heavenly steed.  
Broad was his back, his belly short, a large  
And dimpled breast, the office to discharge  
Of swelling lungs: his fetlocks clean, a hoof,  
'Gainst stony roads, and rocky mountains, proof.  
Eyes full, quick ears, fire when the trumpets sound  
From's nostrils flies; nor stands on any ground.  
His colour Daple-grey, his skin more sleek  
Than Venus' bosom, or plump Bacchus' cheek:  
On's breast a feather, on his crown a star:  
Such Alexander, or the God of War  
Did use to ride, bearing down all before  
Their white feet Strawberied with Crimson gore.   

His flowing main, and bushy tail was tied  
With ribbons, baffled Rainbows in their pride:  
His Bridle, Saddle, all you could behold,  
His Cloth, and Stirrups, nay his Shoes were gold.   

This at Olympus when the prize he won,  
Broke fiery Aethons' breath, that drew the Sun,  
Strained the near pinion of the Northern wind,  
And far left all Competitors behind.   

This proud of many victories, at a pass  
In his grand paw did meet a laden Ass;  
To whom he said; Thou son of a dull fire,  
Stand up, or else i'll trample thee in th' mire:  
Thou shalt lie gasping here beneath thy load,  
Cursed by all those thou hind'rest in the road.  
The silly Beast not daring in his face  
To look, nor answer suddenly gave place,  
Who, while the clock struck twelve did run a mile,  
And shakes with thundering hoofs the rotten soil.   

And now the day was come, the hour drew on,  
When seven steeds, swift, as those drew Phaeton,  
Were matched to run for a huge golden bowl;  
Which, crowned with wine must glad his master's soul  
That wins the cup Daple so well was known  
All bet on his side, but against him, none.  
To the first post they came, Jockys were weighed,  
Great cracks on each sides were, and wagers laid.  
The signal's given, at once seven Champions start,  
Now spur, now switch, hanck, lose, no little art  
Their Rider's show: low as their Horses care  
Bending their heads, they break resisting air.  
The earth with hoofs, the skies with clamours roar,  
While voices tumbled echo on the shore.   

But as swift Daple far did all outstrip,  
Ah dire mischance, he strains and shot his hip;  
Thus shaken out, he and his Rider droop,  
While in a dusty cloud on goes the troup.   

Here our sad tale gins, This steed unfit  
To run the race, or with a burnished bit  
To bear his wealthy Lord with proud short steps,  
Disgrace for all his former service reaps:  
They take from him his trappings, silk, and gold,  
And to a cruel Carman he is sold,  
Laboured all day, and fed at night with grains,  
He dreams of loads, steep Hills, and narrow Lanes.  
With's Cart at's back weary and ill arrayed  
The Ass espied him, and thus vapouring braid;   

Sir, I'm mistaken if I did not meet  
Your Horseship lately in this winding street,  
But you're much altered in a little time,  
You're lean, and poor, then fat, and in your prime;  
where's all the gallant furniture you had?  
How rustily you look in Leather clad,  
Nor your soft neck bends proudly in a trot,  
With Ladies in a Belgic Chariot,  
Bounding on Velvet Beds; nor I discern  
No golden Scutcheons, on your gilded stern,  
Your wheels not thunder, nor your axe's flame;  
This is a Cart, you draw as if you're lame.   

Thus are proud mortals paid, and them that know  
No mean in bliss, shall have no mean of woe;  
And this shall be the greatest gall to Pride,  
Whom they scorned rich, grown poor, shall them deride   

MORAL.  
Let no prosperity move arrogance;  
Like April are the fickle brows of chance:  
But when she most seems for thee, then provide  
With caution to allay ore-swelling Pride.    


36  THE SIX AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Husbandman, and the Wood  

Near a vast Commons, was a mighty grove,  
Protected by the Hama-dryades,  
Which then had mansion in those long-lived trees;  
There flourished Esculus the delight of Jove,  
And Phoebus' love;  
And there were plants had sense, and some could feed,  
And fruitful Palms did male and female breed;  
Wool-bearing stocks grew there, and some of old  
Whose leaves were spangles, and the branches gold;  
In aged trees  
Industrious Bees  
Built Fortrese,  
And did their waxed kingdoms frame,  
And some, they fame,  
From whose hard woomb man's knotty offspring came.   

This wealthy grove, the Royal Cedar graced,  
Whose head was fixed among the wand'ring stars,  
Above loud Meteors and the elements Wars,  
His root in th' Adamantine Centre fast;  
This all surpassed  
Crowned Libanus; about him Elmie Peers,  
Ash, Fir, and Pine, had flourished many years,  
By him protected both from heat and cold,  
Eternal Plants, at least ten ages old.  
All of one mind,  
Their strength conjoined,  
And scorned the wind;  
Here highly honoured stood the sacred Oak,  
Whom Swains invoke,  
Which oracles, like that of Dodon, spoke.   

But in the neighbouring Commons dwelled a Swain  
That to his Hatchet long did want a heft;  
Which only was the Royal Cedars gift:  
When to the under cops (that did complain  
Their Sovereign  
A Tyrant was) he sued, they promised aid,  
No Helve of Brier, or Thorn was ever made.  
Some rotten-hearted Elms, and Wooden Peers,  
Run with the stream, spurred up by Hopes or Fears;  
Avarice, Pride,  
Make others side;  
Hoping more wide,  
Some mighty trees removed, they in their stead  
Branches might spread  
From Sea to Sea, and raise to Heaven their head.   

Then to the Cedar he his suit presents,  
About whom round his whispering Counsel grows;  
Hot they debate, some side, and some oppose,  
When, but unwilling, the forced King consents,  
And soon reputes:  
Armed by his gift, trees fall in ranks and files,  
Friends, foes, in stacks to Heaven the Rustic piles;  
Then hollow Pines first cut with sails unfurld  
Lines, that like nets are drawn about the world;  
Great trees and small  
Together fall,  
He ruins all:  
But first the Grove told oracles expires,  
And all their quires,  
Enough t' have made twelve Caesar's funeral fires.   

At last the Shepherd standing on a hill,  
Beheld the havoc his own hands had made,  
And with a deep-fetched sigh, thus weeping said;  
Where is the Mast, and Acorns that did fill  
My briefly Cattles still?  
Illgotten wealth, ah me, is ill employed,  
And I am poorer the whole Wood destroyed.  
Where shall my Kids browse? how shall I maintain  
My board with Nuts, and blushing fruit again?  
Thus Avarice brings  
People, and Kings,  
Their ruining.  
Thus grants of Princes have themselves brought low,  
And oft o'erthrow  
Them, by their fall on whom they did bestow.   

MORAL.  
Who weapons put into a mad Man's hands,  
May be the first the error understands:  
But Kings that Subjects with their Sword intrust,  
If they do suffer, seems not much unjust.    


37  THE SEVEN AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Hart and Oxen.  

AH me poor Hart, ah! whether shalt thou fly?  
A pack of cruel Hounds in a full cry  
Are at thy heels, on the bold Huntsmen rush;  
In Woods there is no safety, every Bush  
My Horns will tangle in: ah! where's the stream  
Whose waves commiserating would from them  
To farther Shores in safety me convey,  
Where I at last my weary limbs might lay?   

Thus the chased Deer his woeful chance bemoans  
To Hills and Dales, deaf Trees and senseless Stones;  
When his own fate by ill advice did call  
Him to seek refuge, at the Oxens' Stall.   

To whom he said; Ah! for acquaintance sake,  
Since we in one Park dwelled, some pity take,  
Receive me in; a thousand ways you may  
Save this poor life, I'll hid in yonder Hay.  
When one replied, he might in safety lie  
There till the Men, and cruel Dogs pass by;  
But if their Master or his Man came in,  
The danger greater was, should he be seen.  
Keep Counsel Sirs, and I will venture here:  
Under the Cock, at all-hid plays the Deer.   

When a dull servant entered, one that did  
Not half the work his careful master bid,  
Returning when the Beasts were served with Hay.  
Then flattering hope did the glad Hart betray.   

But an experienced Ox, whom Livy made  
Once speak before, to him rejoicing, said;  
Unhappy friend, thou hast small cause to vaunt;  
Wert thou as mighty as an Elephant,  
Stood where I stand, a Castle on thy back,  
This Clown had left thee feeding at the rack.  
This is a clod heavier than earth; such souls,  
Were all Heaven Sun, would see no more than moles:  
But when our Master enters, I advise  
That close thou lie, for he hath Argos eyes;  
To scape from him, that is a work, a task,  
Would all the shifts of subtle Proteus ask.   

Scarce said, but in the buisy master came,  
And first his servant's negligence did blame,  
Gathers the offals, did the litter spread,  
The labouring yoke-mates with his own hands fed;  
Here, there, he pries, and searcheth every part,  
Three fathom under Hay he finds the Hart.  
Glad of the prize, aloud for aid he calls,  
Straight on the Deer, a troup of rustics falls,  
No hope of quarter, he with weeping eyes,  
Chief mourner was at his own obsequies.   

MORAL.  
When urgent dangers press, 'tis hard to shun;  
Stern Fortune loves to end, as she begun:  
On Fear, and Haste, bad Counsel still attends;  
Let none seek refuge from unable friends.    


38  THE EIGHT AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of the Lion that was sick.  

THrough all the Forest was a rumour spread,  
The King the Lion's Sick, some report Dead.  
No sooner was it trumpeted by fame,  
But wild and tame,  
From all parts came,  
With countenances sad,  
Though inly glad;  
A mighthy throng at the Court gates appear:  
But sly Sir Reynard was not there.  
To whom the King thus with a Porcupins quill  
Writ on a leaf; Dear Cousin, I am ill,  
And your advice now want to make my will.   

If you suspect (but fear is causeless Sir)  
Danger at Court, alas I cannot stir,  
The holy Wolf here teacheth Heaven's commands,  
Grim Malkin stands,  
Wring her hands,  
The Lamb, and Tiger sit  
Both at my feet;  
But none of these can comfort us, like you:  
You shall not friend your coming rue,  
Ah let me see thee ere my eyes do fail,  
You oft have helped me, oft your wisdom's tail,  
Made on the ground, my Parliament robes to trail.   

To whom the subtle Fox replied again,  
That he to Heaven would pray, his Sovereign  
May former health recover, and once more  
From shore to shore  
Be heard to roar,  
And with his voice to make  
The Forest shake:  
But to obey his will must be denied,  
Because he many tracts espied  
Of visitants repaired to's Royal den;  
But saw no Print of those returned again.  
His Majesty must pardon him till then.   

MORAL.  
Not too much credence to King's letters give;  
In flowery Eloquence black Serpents live:  
Construe th' ambiguous words, and wary read,  
For i'll advance, that's isle take off thy head.    


39  THE NINE AND THIRTIETH FABLE. Of Cupid and Death.  

CUpid too careful of his Mother's task  
Roving all day did wound a thousand hearts,  
With golden or with leaden pointed darts;  
At night his sport pursuing to a mask,  
Where he is Quiver empties, and supplies  
Again from beauteous Lady's eyes,  
While they in comely motion act their parts:  
What Nymphs are these? some whisper, others ask  
What Goddess now appears? and as the admire,  
Active and fierce desire  
Seven couples shoots at once with mutual fire,  
And ere night's wheels could the Meridian cut,  
There, thousands more the God to torture put.   

The same day Death had at a cruel fight  
As buisy been, and mighty slaughter made,  
She, and blind Chance on both sides double played;  
Then the grim Angel visits Towns by night.  
Now weary, and grown late, Death could not well  
Reach the Adamantine Gates of Hell,  
Where Plague, War, Famine, her Companions laid  
On Iron Couches, trembling Ghosts affright;  
Nor could blind Cupid Paphos find, so dark  
The sky was grown, no spark  
In all Heaven's face to give the boy a mark,  
At one Inn therefore two great Furies lay,  
Till Sleep Death's elder brother both obey.   

Nor Death long rests her weary bones, but wakes:  
Not clearing well her eyes which were two coals  
That cast Malignant beams from gloomy hoals;  
She Cupid's Quiver for her own mistakes,  
And hungry out she flies to Countries far,  
To Breakfast at a Massacer.  
Nor long the Boy from torturing lovers souls  
Cessation made, but out with speed he makes,  
And storms with deadly arrows Myrtle groves,  
Where perched his Mother's Doves,  
Where cunning lovers lose to find their loves;  
There while the youth did Cyprian Vigils keep,  
Death seals their eyes up in eternal sleep.   

Then through the world a mighty change appears,  
When the curled youth whom Love and Beauty lead,  
Under pale Ensigns muster with the dead,  
Sad Verse and Garlands fixed to Virgin Beers;  
While in a dance up the long bedrid leaps,  
And Beldames mince with wanton steps,  
And their pale cheeks with borrowed blushes spread,  
False Lillys trenches fill ploughed up with years;  
Whom Death had marked for sudden funerals  
Now for his Viol calls,  
And old remembering, makes new madrigals.  
This hath a Son, that hath a Daughter dead,  
And their house cleared the lusty Parents wed.   

But while this Tragicomedy was played,  
Of Error long, a youth more happy saw  
When to his ear the God did aiming draw  
A shaft at him, and thus to Cupid prayed;  
O hold thy arrow tipd with Charnel bone,  
And shoot me with a golden one,  
Thy Darts are winged with Death, 'gainst Nature's Law;  
See in the Groves what slaughter thou hast made.  
Must the world end? must all our youth be slain?  
Must feeble age again  
Recruite the loss? then let the Gods ordain  
That Winter marrying with North winds be bound  
To make, with sharp Frosts pregnant, barren ground.   

Admonished thus, he looks about, and spied  
Old men and Matrons dancing in a ring,  
And joyful Paeans to love's Mother sing,  
While arm in arm sad youthful lovers died.  
Straight the mischance Cupid to Death makes known.  
Requiring to return his own;  
But Death in various Conquests taking pride,  
Reserved some feathered with the Sparrows wing  
And left him others dipped i'th' Stygian Lake,  
From whence risen the mistake,  
That when sweet love Virgins and Youth should make,  
It proves sad wills; and Old folks one Leg have  
In wanton Sheets, he other in the Grave.   

MORAL.  
Age burns with Love, while Youth cold ague shakes;  
And Nature oft her principles mistakes:  
So suffers Youth in Ages cold embrace,  
As living men to dead bound face to face.    


40  THE FORTIETH FABLE. The Parliament of Birds.  

WHen Jove by impious arms had Heaven possessed,  
And old King Saturn setting in the West  
Finished the Golden days, a Silver morn,  
Pale with the crime's success, did earth adorn, 
The Silver Age.   
And gave its name unto the second age.  
Then Skies first thundered, Seas with tempest rage,  
Four Seasons part the year, Men Sow, and Plant,  
(The golden times nor labour knew nor want)  
Then toil found ease by art, art by deceits,  
Then Civil War turned Kingdoms into States,  
(For petty Kings ruled first) than Birds, and Beasts  
Did with Republics private interests  
Begin to build, Eagls were vanquished then,  
And Lion's worsted lost their Royal Den.   

The Birds reduced thus to a Popular State,  
Their King and Lords of prey ejected, sat  
A frequent Parliament in th' ancient wood,  
There acting daily for the Nations good.  
When thus the Swallow rising from the flock,  
To Master Speaker; the grave Parrot, spoke.   

Great things for us, Sir, Providence hath done,  
And we have through a world of dangers run,  
The Eagle, and the gentle Falcon are  
Destroyed or Sequestered by happy War;  
The Kitish Peers, and Bussard Lords are flown,  
Who sat with us till we could sit alone:  
Like worthy Patriots since, your special care  
Hath settled our Militia in the air.  
All Monarch-hating Storks and Cranes, who march,  
Like Sons of thunder, through Heaven's Crystal Arch,  
When tumult calls, to beat those Widgeons down,  
That vainly flock to readvance the Crown.   

Of Maritime business, let our Sea-fowle tell,  
Who now as far beneath, as 'tis to Hell,  
Th' Antipodes dive, to fetch home Gold and Spice  
From Phoenix, and the Bird of Paradise;  
Whom thunder-eating Fire-Drakes safe convey  
From royal Harpies, that pickeer at Sea.  
War is far off removed, and almost done;  
And we now sporting in the golden Sun  
Prune, and re-gild our wings; while on hard coasts,  
Wedded to Famine, and eternal Frosts,  
The Eagle rigid Discipline digests,  
Drove from his Godwits to the Byters nests.   

We fear no flying Nation, should the King  
Plumed Griffons, and his winged-Horses bring,  
Of now scorned Pegasus the baffled Sons,  
So oft chased round our vast Dominions.   

But a new danger, with a dire ostent,  
(You Gods avert it from this Parliament,)  
Gins to threaten. Line unthought upon  
Now shades itself, and to a wood is grown,  
Luxurious branches shooting to the sky.  
This, this behold! is the great enemy;  
Man will make nets of this, where he'll no fewer  
Than thousand silly Birds at once secure;  
Under the tyranny of twisted Cords,  
Oft Lybian Lions groan, those Forest Lords  
Wild Bulls, and Boars, make all the would resound,  
When they are taken in this Linen pound:  
Fettered in these, how loud storm savage Bears?  
And took Hyena's weep with unfeignd tears.  
This branch and root must up, or else your State  
(Which foreign Eagles now congratulate)  
Will be short-lived; down, down with't to the ground,  
Nor let its place or name be ever found:  
Enact with speed, your time, your strength employ  
To ruin that, which else, will you destroy.   

The Swallow for his wisdom much renowned,  
Since he the art of Architecture found,  
Whose well-built nests encircle scarce a span,  
Are yet but coldly patternd out by man;  
Whose cement smiles at Time, and th' Elements rage,  
Strengthened with storms, and more confirmed by age,  
Had now prevailed, and his great Eloquence,  
So sympathising with the Houses sense,  
Persuaded straight an host of Geese and Cranes  
Should plunder, and depopulate those plains:  
But that the Lynnet (private interest much,  
Since Linseed was his food, this Bird did touch,)  
Arising said, Most honoured House of Birds,  
The Swallow hath in well-composed words  
And handsome language, dressed up scar- Crow doubts  
Of some Priapus, or a Things-of-clowt,  
Such as Plumed foragers fright from Corn and Fruits,  
And well with his complaining nature suits.  
Sure I believe ere since the world began,  
This Line hath grown, or wild, or sowed by Man;  
Yet ne'er employed our Nation to betray:   


* Silver Age.  But these times find new Arts out every day,  
Lime-twigs are lately known, and Hair and Hooks  
Which scaley people draw from Crystal brooks.   

But grant all this, will man his cordage pin  
To the high Poles, and spread his Linen gi'en  
Over Heavens broad face like Geometric lines,  
To catch Stars wand'ring through twelve spangled Signs?  
Then, if hot Phoebus burn it not at noon,  
How shall our guifted Woodcocks reach the moon,  
Who now from Church's Lunatic have brought  
Revelations, both for use and Doctrine taught.   

Or over earth's broad surface will he spread  
This new device, and with entangling thread  
Where ere we light engage our heedless foot?  
If so, then grub it up both branch and root.   

The worst that can, over some little patch  
Of earth, this Yarn deceitful man will watch,  
And with some bait the hover foe entice:  
Then let them suffer for their avarice.   

But the chief point I most insist upon  
Too much we have insenced already Man;  
Libidinous Doves, and Sparrows, (most unjust,)  
Plunder his Wheat to heighten filthy lust:  
And wicked Geese, Storks, and insulting Cranes,  
Spoil their own quarters, midst his Golden plains.   

But humane forces if you long to know,  
And aggravating wrong would raise a foe;  
Muster your power; your strength consider first,  
And the Malignants in your bowels nursed,  
Ready to rise at all times, when so ere  
Or Bird, or Beast, or Devils, or Men appear.   

Unsettled, no such War you can maintain,  
Unless the Common foe you home again  
With joy invite, unanimous join in one.  
But ere I see that fatal union,  
And under cruel Eagles Ensigns go,  
Let me descend to unclean Birds below.   

Brief, 'tis impossible to join again,  
Who Gods and Fiends despise, tremble at Men.  
To Heaven, the harmless Vegetive let grow,  
And Man incense not, he's a dangerous foe.   

May our good Angels those celestial Birds,  
Who screeking Eagles drove with flaming Swords  
From this warm Paradise, our State defend,  
'Gainst all dire fowl, from Stygian floods ascend.   

This said, th' House thunders with discording notes,  
This for the Swallow, that the Linnet Votes;  
The major still the weaker part, decry  
The Swallows Counsel, bearing to the sky  
The Linnets' Wisdom and high Eloquence;  
This House by reason was not ruled, but sense.  
They act, that Line shall to perfection grow,  
And make it treason to call man a Foe.   

Soon fiery Syrius joined with Phoebus' rays,  
Faint heats increased, with decreasing days;  
When Ceres golden locks each where were shorn,  
And Line in safety to dry Houses born.  
Then said the Swallow, fearing future fates  
Whom Jove will ruin, he infatuates;  
And straight to Man he flies, and makes a peace,  
The Articles they signed in brief were these,  
He grants him Chimneys for his stately Nest,  
For which his Song must calm Man's troubled breast.   

Mean while fine threads are Spun of hatcheld Flax,  
And nothing for the Expedition lacks:  
The War grows hot, Fowlers both night, and day,  
By their Commission thousands take and slay.  
Here in vast Fields, Nets coulerd like the Corn  
Do execution, evening and morn;  
There Dogs, and stalking-Horses many fright  
Into the Snare, and lowbels dreadful light;  
Eagles and Hauks Auxiliaries they employ,  
And treacherous foul their dearest friends decoy,   

Thus soon this rising State was overthrown,  
And Man ere since did rule the earth alone.  
When this sad ditty silvered o'er with age  
A Captive Stare, Sung in his woeful Cage;  
When Civil War hath brought greater Nations low,  
Destruction comes, oft with a Foreign Foe.   

MORAL.  
In perverse Counsels best advice is scorned,  
The worst, with Art, and handsome words adorned,  
Enacted is; but private interest blinds  
The Wisest, and betrays the Noblest mind.    


41  THE ONE AND FORTIETH FABLE. Of the Rustic and Hercules.  

O Thou that didst so many Monsters kill,  
And of twelve Labours didst none ill,  
Help, if it by thy will.  
O thou that forced fire-spitting Cacus den,  
And got'st thy Cattles then,  
Though mine I ne'er could have again.  
Alcides, thou that art the strongest God,  
Help with thy long arms out, and shoulders broad,  
My Wheels, which stick up to the Nave in mire:  
Ah 'tis a mighty load,  
Help, I desire,  
Or here I will expire.  
In a deep tract his Cart being lodged thus prayed  
A lazy Swain to Hercules for aid.   

When thus the Deity in a mighty crack  
Of thunder to the Rustic spoke,  
Then lying on his back.  
Fool, whip thy pampered Horses up the Hill,  
Thy Shoulder lay to th' wheel,  
And there use all thy strength and skill:  
Not only me whom now thou dost invoke,  
But then expect a God at every spoke  
To thy assistance; who offended be,  
When they implored shall look  
From Heaven, and see  
A heavy Clown like thee.  
We help the active, though thy wicked are;  
The Gods ne'er did, nor will, hear idle prayer.   

MORAL.  
Under the Tropics more refined souls  
Cherish old piety: but near the Poles  
Men follow War, sail, bargain, sow, and reap,  
And no Religion love but what is cheap.    


42  THE TWO AND FOURTIETH FABLE. Of the Fox and Weasel.  

WIth fasting long, Reynard was grown the type  
Of seven years' famine,  
Enforced with hunger, which so much did gripe  
His clemd and empty tripe,  
At last he came in  
To a full larder, through a straighter hole,  
Than ever body past, or scarce a soul.   

When he had stuffed his Panier like a Sack  
With store of Forage,  
Until his bellie's Hoops, his ribs did crack,  
Straight he resolveth to go back  
With all his carriage,  
By the same pass he entered, nor did think  
His sides might larger grow, or the hole shrink.   

At last the straits of the long narrow lane  
And low-roofed entry  
He came to, but a passage sought in vain;  
The Fox repulsed was fain  
There to stand sentry:  
Seven times the rocky pass with teeth and claws  
He strives to open, and as oft did pause.   

Then Conscience pricks, a melancholy fear  
Shows all his slaughters,  

The Hen  Sad Partlet following of a woeful beer,  
Where lay bold Chanticleer  
And his three Daughters;  
Then jetting Turkeys with blue snouts he spied,  
And white fleeced Lambs which he in Scarlet died.   

Like Hydra's hissing Geese extend their necks,  
And threatening Ganders;  
At's eyes the Crow took with his Pizle, pecks;  

The Hare  Keyward's pale Ghost with squeaks  
About him wanders:  
That some suppose the Fox this day did dine  
On melancholy Dishes, wanting Wine.   

Then spoke a jeering Weasel from the Wall;  
Sir Fox I know you're crafty,  
But you have made a Prison of your hall,  
Nor can you scape at all,  
Or look for safety,  
Until your be as thin, as when  
You entered, than you may return again.   

Then said the Fox; Hunger did ill persuade,  
Yet those are starving  
Oft through a Wall of stone a breach have made,  
And I may now be paid  
My just deserving.  
But thou that in such danger jeerst the Fox,  
Like Fortune may reward thee for thy mocks:  
Revenge draws nigh, beware the Cat; I can  
But be uncased, and bravely die by man.   

MORAL.  
Heavn's joys we sell for broth; rather than want,  
With Death and Hell consign a Covenant.  
Greedy of spoil, with violence and deceit  
We daily act, considering no retreat.     


43  THE FABLES OF AESOP. The Third BOOK.  

THE THREE AND FOURTIETH FABLE. Of the Hawk and the Cuckoo.  
UNworthy Bird, base Cuckoo, thou that art  
Large as myself in every part,  
Strength, length, and colour of thy Wing,  
Mine much resembling;  
Whose narrow Soul, whose no, or little Heart,  
Will to thy board  
Afford  
Nothing but Worms of Putrefaction bred;  
Which of the Noblest Mortals are abhorred,  
Since they must turn to such when they are dead;  
Mount, gorge thyself with some delicious Bird;  
Be wise,  
Such Banquets leave for Daws, and silly Pies.  
Thus the bold Hawk, the Cuckoo did advise.  
Who not long after taken in the Field,  
Having a harmless Pigeon killed,  
Was in a most unlucky hour  
Hung from a lofty tower;  
To teach all those, who blood of innocents' spilt.  
The Cuckoo saw,  
By Law,  
The Murderess suffered; when these notes she sung;  
Better with Worms to fill my hungry maw,  
Than betwixt Heaven and Earth by th' heels be hung,  
And a cold Bird lie in my stomach raw.  
Had I  
Thy Counsel took, and foraged through the sky,  
There I had hanged with thee for company.  

MORAL.  
Some without Conscience plunder, spoil, and kill,  
As if for bloody Banquets were no bill:  
But Vengeance Springtides hath, as well as Neap,  
When Malefactors short from ladders leap.    


44  THE FOUR AND FOURTIETH FABLE. Of the Bear and the Bees.  

BRuine the Bear receiving a slight wound  
From a too washpish Bee,  
Joyful to raise a War on any ground,  
(It was their wealth had done the injury)  
Did now propound  
And to himself decree,  
Near to return, till he had overthrown  
Twelve Waxed Cities of that Nation,  
And seized their Hony-treasure as his own.   

This being resolved, he to the Garden goes,  
Where stood the stately Hives,  
One, after one, the Barbarous overthrows,  
And many Citizens of life deprives:  
A few survives,  
Who in a Body close.  
For your everted towers, your slaughtered race,  
For your great losses, and your high disgrace,  
Fix all your venomed Weapons in his Face.  
This said, the trumpet sounds, the vulgar rage,  
And all at once in mighty War engage.   

Now Bruine's ugly visage did not Frieze,  
Nor his foul hands want Gloves;  
The monstruous Bear you could not see for Bees,  
No Bacon Gammon was so stuck with Cloves:  
Who Honey loves  
Not with sharp Sauce agrees.  
Orepowred by multitude, and almost slain,  
He draws his shattered Forces off again;  
Then said; I better had endured the pain  
Of one sharp sting, than thus to suffer all;  
Making a private quarrel Nationall.   

MORAL.  
Great Kings that petty Princes did despise,  
Have oft by War's experience grown Wise:  
Who whipped the Sea, and threatened Floods to chain,  
Brought back for Millions but a slender train.    


45  THE FIVE AND FOURTIETH FABLE. Of the Hart and Horse.  

LOng was the War betwixt the Hart and Horse  
Fought with like courage, chance, and equal Force;  
Until a fatal day  
Gave signal victory to the Hart: the Steed  
Must now no more in pleasant Valleys feed  
Nor verdant Commons swaigh.  
The Hart who now o'er all did domineer,  
This conquering Stag  
Slights like a Nag  
The vanquished Horse, which did no more appear.   

In want, exiled, driven from Native Shores,  
The Horse in Cities humane aid implores,  
To get his Realms again.  
Let Man now manage him and his affair,  
Since he not knows what his own Forces are.  
Thus sues he for the Rein;  
For sweet revenge he will endure the Bit,  
Let him o'erthrow  
His cruel foe  
And let his haughty Rider heavy sit.   

He takes the Bridle o'er his yielding head,  
With Man and Arms the Horse is furnished,  
And for the battle neighs.  
But when the Hart two hostile faces saw  
And such a Centaur to encounter draw,  
He stood a while at gaze.  
At last known valour up he roused again,  
More hopes by fight  
There was, than flight;  
What's won by Arms, by Force he must maintain.   

Then to the Battle did the Hart, advance,  
The Horse a Man brings, with a mighty lance  
Longer than th' others crest:  
The manner of the fight is changed, he feels  
No more the Horse's hoof, and ill-aimd heels;  
They charge now breast to breast.  
Two to one odds 'gainst Hercules'; the Hart,  
Though strong and stout,  
Can not hold out,  
But flies, and must from Conquered Realms departed.   

Nor longer could the Horse his joy contain,  
But with loud neighs, and an erected main,  
Triumpheth after fight;  
When to the Soldier mounted on his back,  
Feeling him heavy now, the Beast thus spoke;  
Be pleased good Sir to light.  
Since you restored to me my father's seat,  
And got the day,  
Receive your pay,  
And to your City joyfully retreat.   

Then said the Man; This Saddle which you wear  
Cost more than all the Lands we conquered here,  
Beside this burnished Bit.  
Yourself, and all you have, too little are  
To clear my engagemen in this mighty War;  
Till that's paid, here I'll sit:  
And since against your Foe I aided you,  
Can you deny  
Me like supply?  
Come, and with me my Enemy subdue.   

Then sighed the Horse, and to the Man replied;  
I feel thy cruel Rowels gall my side,  
And now I am thy slave;  
But thank thyself for this, thou foolish beast,  
That for revenge, to foreign interest  
Thyself and Kingdom gave.  
'Mong Rocky Mountains I had better dwelled,  
And fed on Thorns,  
Gored by th' Heart's Horns,  
Than wicked Man's hard servitude have felt.   

MORAL.  
Some injured Princes have, to be revenged,  
With their own Realms, the Christian World unhinged,  
On any terms, with any Nation deal,  
Will Heaven not hear them? they'll to Hell appeal.    


46  THE SIX AND FOURTIETH FABLE. Of the Satire and Traveller.  

WHen Lucifer the first Grand Rebel fell,  
With all his winged Officers, to Hell;  
Th' Almighty Conqueror thought not fit  
That then  
All should be quartered in the Brimstone Pit  
Prepared for bad Angels, and worse Men:  
But they, the vulgar Spirits did incense  
Against God's Counsel, with a fair pretence,  
That thus Heaven's King they would more glorious make,  
Were sent by thunder to the Stygian Lake:  
But such whose crime was Error, he confines  
To Caves,  
And Graves,  
And tender Gold to guard in hollow Mines:  
And some there be, that dare  
Make their repair  
To Etherial air;  
These the rough Ocean rule, and others guide  
Wing'd Clouds, and on the backs of Tempests ride.   

Such are those Spirits timorous people fright  
In horrid shapes, and Play mad pranks by night;  
Nymphs, Faireys, Goblins, Satyrs, Fauns,  
Which haunt  
Soft purling streams, cool shades, and silent lawns,  
Begot on Mortals, Sires Immortal vaunt.  
Of which our Satire was, whose cloven hoof,  
Rough Thighs, and crooked Horns, were ample proof;  
Who by the Mother's side more gentle, gave  
To a cold Traveller shelter in his Cave,  
Whom Boreas charged with a huge drift of Snow.  
The Man  
Began,  
Having no Fire, his Finger's ends to blow.  
Why thus he blew his hands  
His Host demands,  
And wondering stands:  
Who then replied; My Breath, my Fingers will  
Straight unbenum, and warm, though ne'er so i'll.   

Soon the kind Satire made a Fire, and got  
Boiled Lentils, which he gave the stranger, hot.  
The Traveller gins to blow  
His Broth,  
Then asked the rural Deity, Why so?  
My breath will cooled he said; Then wondrous wrath,  
The staring Satire Answered; I that am  
The Devils Sister's Son, and to his Dam  
As near allied by my dear Mother, which  
Is now a famous Callydonian witch,  
Dare not a Monster like to thee behold;  
A Man  
That can  
With the same lungs at once blow hot and cold.  
Be gone, or else that breath,  
Thou shalt bequeath,  
To me in death.  
A Sycophant, and a Backbiter too!  
My Uncle himself had best beware of you.   

MORAL.  
Who Smile, and Stab; at once clear, and attaint,  
Like Pictures are, here Devil, and there Saint:  
But Fiends and Saints convertible be, for where  
We spy a Devil, some say a Saint goes there.    


47  THE SEVEN AND FORTIETH FABLE. Of the Rebellion of the Hands and Feet.  

REason, once King in Man, Deposed, and dead,  
The Purple Isle was ruled without a head:  
The Stomach a devouring State swayed all,  
At which the Hands did burn, the Feet did gall;  
Swift to shed blood, and prone to Civil stirs  
These Members were, who now turn Levellers:  
The vast Revenue of the little World  
Is in the Exchequer of the Belly hurled,  
And toil on them imposed by Eternal Laws;  
With a drawn Sword the Hands thus pleads the cause.   

Freeborn as you, here we demand our right;  
Reason being vanquished, the proud Appetite  
In Microcosmos must no Tyrant be,  
The idle Paunch shall work as well as we.   

The Stomach promised, and so gained our loves,  
Our King dethroned, we should in Kidskin Gloves  
Grow soft again, and free from corn, the Feet  
In Cordovant at leisure walk the Street,  
Who now toil more than when that Monarch swayed:  
Then we did works of wonder, than we made  
Egyptian Pyramids, Mausolus' toomb,  
Built the Gran Cairo, great Ninevie, and Rome;  
Heaven-threatning Babel, those sky-kissing Towers,  
Proud boast themselves, a mighty work of ours;  
We Daedalus winged to fly from spire to spire,  
And Thunder framed out-ranted Jove's loud fire;  
These were our works, which are by fame enrolled;  
Now we dress Meat, Change it some God to Gold.  
Skies, Seas, we spread with Nets, vast Earth with Gins,  
To Banquet you, who feast seven deadly Sins.   

Did we for this storm the bold Breast, and raze  
Jove's Image in the Heaven-advanced Face?  
Where our sharp Nails a Rubric penned in gore,  
And curled roofs from King Reason's Palace tore?   

For such rewards the Feet in cooling streams,  
Sweeting did rush; who by such Stratagems  
Did at strange distance disafect with pain  
The Head, hurt Reason, and disturb the Brain.  
In brief, or work or fast, take up your Staff,  
Gird thy Loins Belly, and leave Banquets off.  
This said, the Stomach with sharp Choler stirred  
Cast forth such things, belching at every word.   

Rebellious Members, you that be so far  
From Peace, that rather 'mong yourselves you'll War;  
What Acts did you, to those that we have done?  
Who was it carried the great business on?  
The Senses took, the Cinque-Ports of the Realm,  
With a fair Shade, and a deluding Dream?  
Was't you, or we? full with 
* Garlicks and Onions  Egyptian Gods  
The Brainish Monarch drove from his abodes,  
Beat up all Quarters of the Heart by Night,  
And did that Fort with its own trembling fright?  
Who swelled the Spleen? and made the Gall o'erflow?  
The Feet and Hands? who made the Liver glow,  
Till all those Purple Atoms in the Blood  
Which make the Soul, swom in a burning Flood,  
From whence inflamed, they seized upon the Head,  
And o'er the Face their blushing Ensigns spread?   

All that you boast of since this War began,  
Are but light skirmishes with th' outward man;  
Leave threatening, must we keep perpetual Lent?  
The Members shall as soon as we repent.   

Trembling with rage, the Feet and Hands depart,  
The Stomach swells, high goes th' incensed Heart.  
Three days in Pockets closeted the Hands  
Refuse to put on Gloves, the vexed Foot stands.  
Mean while the Stomach was come down, and cries,  
What once a hollow Tooth served, would suffice  
The straightened Maw: one bit, one crumb bestow:  
But still the moody Members answer, No.   

At last an extreme feebleness they felt,  
Saw all but skin, and their hard bones to melt,  
A pale Consumption Lording over all;  
At which a Counsel the faint Brethren call;  
The Stomach must be fed, which now was so  
Contracted, that like them, it answered, No.  
At which pale Death her cold approaches made,  
When to the dying Feet the weak Hands said;   

Brethren in evil, since we did deny  
The Belly food, we must together die.  
All that are Members in a Commonwealth,  
Should more than Private, aim at Public health:  
The Rich the Poor, and Poor the Rich must aid:  
None can protect themselves with their own shade.  
None for themselves are Born; we brought in food,  
Which the kind Stomach did prepare for Blood,  
The Liver gave it tincture, the great Vein  
Sends it in thousand several streams again  
To feed the parts, which there assimulates.  
Concord builds high, when Discord ruins States.  
But the chief cause did our destruction bring,  
Was, we Rebelled 'gainst Reason our true King.   

MORAL.  
Civil Commotions strongly carried on,  
Seldom bring Quiet when the War is done:  
Then thousand Interests in strange shapes appear,  
And through all ways to certain Ruin steer.    


48  THE EIGHT AND FOURTIETH FABLE. Of the Horse and laden Ass.  

DEear Brother Horse, so heavy is my load,  
That my galld back  
Is like to crack,  
Some pity take,  
Or I shall perish in the road;  
For thy fair Sister's sake,  
Who once did bear  
To me a Son, a Mule, my hopeful Heir,  
Assistance lend,  
My burden share,  
Or else a cruel end  
Waits on thy fellow servant, and thy friend:  
Here I must lie  
And die,  
The tird Ass said to th' empty Horse went by.   

Pricked up with Pride, and Provender, the Horse  
Denied his aid;  
Shall I, he said,  
My own back lad,  
And hurt myself, stirred up with fond remorse?  
My prudent Master laid  
This on thee, who  
Better than you or I knows what to do.  
My Sister Mare,  
Was given to you,  
Our Nobler race to spare,  
The Ass and Mule must all the burdens bear.  
I must no pack▪  
Nor sack,  
But my dear Master carry on my back.   

This said, Heart-broak the Ass fell down and died:  
The Master straight,  
Laid all the weight,  
On his proud Mate;  
And spread above the Asses hid.  
Repenting, but too late,  
The Horse then said,  
Thou wert accursed didst not thy Brother aid,  
Now on my back  
Th' whole burdens laid.  
Such Mortals goodness lack,  
And Counsel, which their Friends distressed not aid  
Had I born part  
The smart  
Had been but small, which now must break my Heart.   

MORAL.  
People that under Tyrant Sceptres live,  
Should each to other kind Assistance give  
The Rich, the Poor, still over-Taxd should aid,  
Lest on their Shoulders the whole burdens laid.    


49  THE NINE AND FOURTIETH FABLE. Of the Fox and the Cock.  

SOon as the Fox to Pullein-furnished Farms  
Approaches made,  
Though valiant, Chanticleer not trusting Arms  
Nor humane aid,  
Ascends a tree,  
Where he  
Stood safe from harms:  
Loud was the Cackle at no false Alarms:  
From ground  
About him round  
For safety all his feathered Household Flock;  
When Reynard thus spoke to the wary Cock.   

O thou through all the world for valour famed,  
Hast thou not heard,  
What our two Kings so lately have proclaimed:  
Both Beast and Bird  
At Amity  
Must be:  
War which inflamed  
Since Adam's fall all creatures wild and tamed  
Must cease;  
In lasting Peace  
The cruel Lion, and the Eagle then  
Will join their force against more cruel Men.   

The sacrilegious Wolf in graves must feed,  
And Birds of prey  
With humane slaughter must supply their need:  
The Popinjay  
Needs not to bauk  
The Hawk,  
The Lamb and Kid  
'Mongst hungry Bears may in dark Forests feed;  
At Feasts  
Both Birds and Beasts  
Begin to meet; the Cat with Linnets plays,  
And Griffons Dine where tender Heifers graze.   

Therefore most Noble Chanticleer descend;  
And though your Spurs,  
Maintaining Pullein Quarters, once did rend  
My tender Furs,  
When Feathers I  
Made fly,  
I'm now your friend;  
Unless we strive in love let us contend  
No more;  
Though Reynard's poor,  
He's faithful to his trust, and boldly can  
Affirm, no Beast is half so false as Man.   

The Cock long weary of devasting War,  
And fierce Alarms,  
Well knowing what outrages committed are,  
By Civil Arms;  
And how the Man  
Had slain,  
To mend his fare,  
His Offspring, yet pretending love and care:  
Right glad,  
To him then said,  
I meet your love, Sir Reynard, and descend  
To choose 'mong Beasts rather than Men a friend.   

While the Cock spoke, a pack of cruel Hounds  
The Fox did hear,  
And saw them powdering down from Hilly grounds  
After a Deer;  
Reynard not stays,  
Delays  
Are dangerous found,  
But earth's himself three fathom underground.  
At last  
The Dogs being past,  
All danger over, again he did appear.  
Then, to the Fox returned, spoke Chanticleer;  
Learned Sir Reynard, if the words be true  
Which you have said,  
Why did these Dogs the trembling Deer pursue?  
They should have stayed;  
Like enemies  
From these  
You also flew.  
Then said the Fox, though I th' agreement drew,  
So late  
This Act of State  
Came forth, I fear, they th' Edict did not hear:  
But I shall trounce them, have they killed the Deer:  
The Cock replied, but I'll make good this tree,  
Is it now true, than 'twill to morrow be.   

MORAL.  
To what we like we easy credit give,  
This makes us oft from foes feigned news believe:  
Fame mighty Holds hath took, and stormed alone,  
And false Reports, whole Armies overthrown.    


50  THE FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Lion and the Forester.  

VAst Forests and great Cities opened, when  
Betwixt wild Beasts and Men  
A long Cessation was;  
And it was then  
That Citizens and Rustics viewed the Lion's Den,  
At his vast Courts amazed;  
Where now fat Bulls, Colts, and tame Asses grazed,  
Through deserts Travellers took the nearest way,  
Where, with their Spaniels wanton Tigers play  
Foxes 'mong Geese, Wolves 'mong fat Wethers lay.   

At Skinner's Shops the Bear unmuzeld calls,  
Cheapening on furnished Stalls  
His friend or Cousin's fur:  
In common Hall's  
Panthers behold themselves on stately Pedestals.  
And now no Yeoman Cur,  
Nor Sergeant mastive, Beasts indebted, stir;  
The Woods Inhabitants wander every where,  
And brizly Boars walk safe, with untouched ear,  
After the Proclamation they did hear.   

When the great Lion met a Forester,  
With whom he oft in War  
Had striven with various chance,  
This with a spear  
The Lion galled, that would his strong-spun ambush tear,  
Then boldly up advance,  
And with his teeth in sunder by't the lance.  
To whom the Lion said, Sir, you and I,  
Can ne'er decide our strength by victory,  
Let us dispute and it by Logic try.   

Then said the Woodman let us wave dispute,  
Antiquity shall do't,  
Behold! Mausolus' toomb,  
And then be mute,  
If the world's wonder by example thee confute;  
There let us take our doom.  
This said, they to the Monument did come,  
Where straight he showed him by rare Artists made  
A Lion's head in a Man's bosom laid:  
This no sufficient proof the Lion said.   

Can we, as well as you, our stories cut,  
We might, and justly, put  
Your lying heads beneath  
Our conquering foot,  
From partial Pens, all truth hath been for ever shut.  
Where I first drew my breath,  
I heard a Carthaginian at his death,  
The Roman Nation most perfidious call;  
Crying out, by treason they contrived the fall,  
Of them, and their great Captain Hannibal.   

MORAL.  
Through a gross Medium by refracted beams  
Historians friends appear: still in extremes  
The wrong end of the perspective must show  
In little, the great Actions of their Foe.    


51  THE ONE AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Lion, the Forester, and his Daughter.  

WHen they had viewed the wonder, and the strife  
Admired of Artists working to the life,  
Then drew the Foresters fair Daughter near,  
And whispered in her swarthy Father's ear.   

The Lion starts, and feels a sudden wound,  
As when at first his Lioness he found,  
And made her pregnant, in a shady wood,  
High with man's flesh, and draughts of humane blood.  
To whom the Woodman said; Sir, since the Sun  
Mounts our Meridian, half his business done,  
And your own Court so far, be pleased to share  
Part of what's mine, though mean, yet wholesome fare;  
Oft humane Princes in poor lodges have  
Gladly reposed, and low roofs honour gave.   

The King the proffer takes, to lowly rooms,  
Yet daily visited with cleansing brooms,  
The Lion is convaid, where he in State  
At a full board in ancient Maple sat.  
Where, whom the Father never overcame,  
The Daughter did: scorched with loves cruel flame  
The Lion burns, the valiant, strong, and wise,  
Who Javelins did, Dogs, Men, and Nets despise,  
Trammels of bright Hair took, a slender Dart  
Shot from a Virgin's eye, transpierced his heart.  
The amorous Lion lays his dreadful jaws  
Now in her lap, gently with dangerous paws  
Her fair hand seizeth, shrinking up his Nails:  
Fain would, but could not tell her what he ails.  
Then staring in her face offers to rise  
Ambitious of her Lip; She frighted, flies;  
Whom with a groan he draws by th' Garments back,  
And troubled, to the trembling Virgin spoke;   

Sweet Creature fear not me; A Roman slave  
Who cured my festered foot, once in my Cave  
I feasted forty days; and when that I  
Was Prisoner took, and he condemned to die  
In a sad Theatre, where Men sat, and laughed  
To see how Beasts the blood of wretches quaffed,  
I mocked their expectation, and did grace  
My trembling Surgeon with a dear embrace.  
The story known, to him they pardon gave,  
And honouring me, sent to my Royal Cave.   

Dear if you knew me, I not dreadful am;  
How many Ladies have made Lions tame?  
My Grandsires', Berecinthias' Chariot drove,  
Not by Force coupled, but Almighty Love.  
We with your smiles are raised, and when you frown  
The greatest Monarch values not his Crown.   

Then to her Father turning, thus he said,  
Still holding in his armed foot, the Maid;  
Lo! I the King of Beasts, a suitor stand,  
And this thy Daughter for our Queen demand.  
We need not tell you, what our Interests are  
In this great Forest, and my power in War  
To you is known, but joined with such a Bride,  
Our race deriving from the Father's side  
Such active Spirits, strength, and valiant hearts;  
From her woomb taking humane form, and Arts;  
How may we be advanced? where shall our Sons  
Find limits for their vast Dominions?  
The Sibyl's Man-Lyon, styled the wondrous Birth,  
Must rule the Conquered Nations of the Earth.  
The 
* Alexander the Great.  Macedonian was a type of this,  
Who sent the Spoils of Persia to Greece,  
Which to his Father was in sleep revealed,  
When his Queen's woomb he with a Lion sealed.   

Then said the Man; I know great Prince you are  
In deserts King, I know your force in War,  
But all the Laws of Men and Gods forbidden,  
That humane Creatures should with Savage Wed.   

The Lion then, ready to lash his side,  
Rousing up anger, with grim looks replied;  
Did not a Queen match with an ugly Bear?  
And in dark Caverns lived with him a year?  
Was not the pregnant Lady, he being slain,  
By Hunters brought to her own Courts again?  
Did not his Son prove a most valiant King,  
And slew all those were at the murdering  
Of his Dear Father? Orson was no Beast,  
Though like his Sire he had a Hairy Breast.   

Thus having said, he cruel Weapons draws,  
Sharp Teeth appear, and needle-pointed Claws.  
Now wit assist, against the Lion's rage  
Inflamed with love, what Madman would engage?  
Then said the Forester, great Sir sheathe your arms,  
If you vast Realms will join to humble Farms  
My Daughter's yours; my error I confess:  
For many Savage Beasts in Marriages  
With Women have conjoined, the golden Ass  
As fair a Lady hath as ever was;  
Mastiffs and pious Virgins wed so rife,  
Ballads in Streets have Sung them Dog and Wife.  
Take Sir my Daughter to your Royal Seat;  
Yet one thing for the Damsel I entreat;  
For sweet love grant her this; see, how she stands  
Trembling to view your teeth, and armed hands!  
Meet her with equal arms, that face to face,  
She may as boldly charge with strict embrace:  
Then pair, and draw them out. The Lion said;  
What ere thou askest, I freely give, O Maid;  
I will divest myself of all my power,  
And make my Teeth, and Claws, thy Virgin dowry.   

No sooner said, but done; with bleeding jaws  
On tender feet he stands; the Woodman draws  
Then a bright Falchion hanging by his side,  
Which to the Hilts he in his bosom died.  
The Lion's slain, and the Cessation broke,  
When to the dying King the Woodman spoke;  
They that give up their power to foe or friend,  
Let them for Love, expect a woeful end:  
They that undo themselves to purchase Wives,  
Like Indians, part with Gold, for Beads and Knives.  
Love is a Child, and such as Love obey,  
Like Kingdoms far, that Infant Sceptres sweigh.   

MORAL.  
The powdered Gallant, and the dusty Cloun,  
The horrid Soldier, and the subtle Gown,  
Old, Young, Strong, Weak, Rich, Poor, both Fools and Wise,  
Suffer when they with frantic Love advise.    


52  THE TWO AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Forester, the Skinner, and a Bear.  

THe Lion slain, the greedy Forester  
Soon strips him of his Robe, and Royal fur;  
The Crown and Sceptre, old Regalities  
Of many former Princes, now are his;  
He takes possession of the Palace, which  
Trophies made proud, and spoils of enemies Rich:  
Where at an Outcry precious things are sold  
At small rates, dear to Potentates of old.  
When the same Man that bought the Lion's Skin,  
Thus to the insulting Victor did begin;   

Sir, since the Groves are yours, and you have won  
Dark Haunts, impenetrable by the Sun,  
The Lion dead; go, and th' ambitious Bear  
Destroy, who now aspires his Master's Chair.  
A Heathen King sent to my Shop this morn,  
To have a Lybian Bears-skin to adorn  
His spreading shoulders with at annual Feasts,  
When barbarous cups, must raise his Savage Guests.  
Call forth thy Dogs, and a fresh War begin,  
Then Gold receive, for slaughtered Bruine's Skin.  
Then said the Woodman; Wilt thou buy? I'll sell  
The Devils hid, and bring it thee from Hell  
For ready Money; come, and give me Coin,  
And the Bear's Skin, though now he lives, is thine.  
And thou shalt go along and see the sport,  
And how I'll rouse him from his shady Court:  
I'll make him pay now for my slaughtered Bees.  
Here they strike hands, and Gold the earnest is,  
Then in vast Woods to Hunt they both prepare.  
The valiant For'ster trusts his new ground Spear,  
The Citizen more wary takes a tree,  
Near Bruin's Cave, where he might safely see.  
The Dogs are straight sent in, such ranting Guest  
So troubled Bruine newly gone to rest,  
That to the Tarriers he resigns his Cave;  
At whose dire Gates the Woodman with a Glave  
Did ready stand, thinking to give the blow  
Should his Staff Crimson in the dying Foe;  
When his foot slipped, his sure hand fails, his Spear  
Leaves him to mercy of the cruel Bear,  
Fainting, or feigning, to the ground he fell,  
As one struck dead, then with a hideous yell  
Came the incensed, and arrested him  
With his great paw, to tear him limb from limb  
Fully resolved; he broke the peace, he slew  
The King his Guest, and watched to kill him too.   

But when he nuzling laid his Nose to ground,  
And from his Mouth nor Lip no passage found  
For vital Breath, nor saw his Breast and Sides  
To Ebe and Flow with life-respiring tides,  
Scorning to wreak vain anger on the dead,  
To Man more cruel, he this lecture read;  
Let Wolvish Monsters rip up putrid graves  
Of buried Foes, and be old malice slaves:  
Although thou soughtst my life when thou didst live,  
Thy friends shall thee due rites of Funeral give;  
I War not with the Dead; thus having said,  
He coverts in the Woods protecting shade;  
When from the tree the Skinner did descend,  
And having roused almost from death his friend,  
He thus began; Good Sir, what was't the Bear  
Spoke, when so long he whispered in your ear?  
Who answered, Bruine said I did not well,  
Before the Bear was slain, his Skin to sell.   

MORAL.  
Fortune assists the bold, the valiant Man  
Oft Conqueror proves, because he thinks he can:  
But who too much flattering successes trust,  
Have failed, and found their honour in the dust.    


53  THE THREE AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Tortoise and the Frogs.  

WOuld it not grieve one still to go abroad,  
Yet ever be within;  
To lie condemned to a perpetual load,  
And overmatched with every gouty Toad,  
And thus be hidebound, in  
A slough  
Of proof,  
An Adamantine Skin:  
No Cuirass is more tough;  
A home Spungius Iron Shirt  
A Web of Mail still on, would Giants hurt.  
How happy are these Frogs  
That skip about the Bogs.  
Some pitying God ah ease me of my Arms  
And native Farms,  
That naked I may Swim  
Below, now on the Brim,  
Among the scallie swarms,  
Searching the Bays, and Bosoms of the Lake,  
And with these nimble Crokers' pleasure take:  
Vexed at his Shell, thus the fond Tortoise spoke.   

But when he saw, fierce Eels devour the Frogs,  
And marked their tender Skin  
Pierced with each Rush, which circle in the Bogs,  
And his less penetrable than hard Logs,  
The Tortoise did begin,  
To find  
His mind  
Contented with his Inn!  
And thought the Gods now kind  
To grant him such a Fort,  
Over whose Roof one driven a loaden Cart,  
Better to bear his Castle on his back  
Though it should crack,  
Then to be made a prey  
While he abroad did play,  
To every Grig, and Jack.  
Then thus aloud his error he confessed:  
I live in Walls impregnable, at rest,  
While all my Friends with Tyrants are oppressed.   

MORAL.  
Thus at home happy, oft fond Youth complain,  
And Peace and plenty with soft Beds disdain.  
But when in Foreign War death seals his eyes,  
His Birth place he remembers ere he dies.    


54  THE FOUR AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Tortoise and Eagle.  

BUt now again she cries, ah, must I creep,  
Still as I were asleep,  
All creatures else can swim, or walk, or run;  
I in the dusty road lie like a Stone:  
The Birds do fly  
So high,  
That oft they sing their Feathers in the Sun.  
Most Princely Eagle bear me through the Sky,  
That I may measure the bright Spangled Arch,  
Where the great Planets march,  
And I will give thee gems  
Such as do Shine in Princes Diadems  
With a huge Pearl I in a Scollop found  
In the Hellespontick sound  
Thought worth nine hundred ninty thousand pound.   

This said, the Eagle lifts her, and her house  
Up like a little Mouse;  
Through the cold quarters of the Stars they go,  
And Magazines of Rain, Hail, Wind, and Snow:  
Such was their flight,  
They might  
See the dark Earth's contracted face below,  
To cast forth sullen beams, with brazen light,  
Like a huge Moon, and turning on her poles  
Dark Seas like Phaebes moles,  
Casting a dimmer ray.  
Then rolling East they view America,  
Asia, and afric; Europe next a rose:  
No Map so perfect shows  
How the great Midland Sea, betwixt them flows.   

But here the Eagle his reward did ask.  
Due for so great a task.  
But when the Tortoise saw his threatening Beak,  
And cruel Sears, amazed he could not speak.  
The Royal Bird  
Then stirred  
With indignation, thus did silence break;  
Thou that didst boast as if thou hadst a hoard,  
And didst with promised jewels mock a Prince,  
Now for thy insolence  
I'll strip thee from thy Shell;  
Cheaper thou mightst have seen the Gates of Hell  
Then the high Stars, who raised thee from thy hole  
To Seats above the Pole,  
Shall now divide, thy Body from thy Soul.   

MORAL.  
What to gain Treasure will not greedy Kings,  
Sweet smells the Coin drained from Merdurinous Springs:  
But Promisers who Princes hopes defeat,  
Oft pay sad forfeits with their Lives and State.    


55  THE FIVE AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of an Egyptian King and his Apes.  

Realm's, mar'ld and watered with the fertile Nile,  
A King did rule, who loved nor Care nor Toil,  
Nor with devasting War his neighbour's land to spoil.  
Nor he in ostentation Riches spent  
Vexing poor Israelites,  
Proud Pyramids to build,  
Whose pointed spires still wound the firmament,  
Darkening our Western Nights,  
Whey they our rising Moon and Stars unguild.  
Nor took he pleasure to Hunt Savage Beasts,  
But entertainment loved and Princely Feasts,  
Pleased with his own, or to here others witty jests.   

When, at full Board's a jolley Peer did start  
This question, whether Apes might learn the art  
Of dancing, and be taught to act a humane part:  
The Novel fancy much the King did please;  
When thus he said, my Lord  
This project i'll advance;  
Since here are none, we'll send beyond the Seas,  
To Realms far off well stored  
With Masters, that shall teach them how to dance,  
Both Greece and Rome the art of Ocastrie  
Always esteemed, where dancing Masters be  
Whose feet Historians are, and tell a History.   

Mars in a Net this in a figure shapes,  
That ravished Proserpina, these, the several rapes,  
Of all their wanton Gods and lustful Jove's escapes.  
But there are Masters in a Realm far West,  
As Trvellers relate,  
More for our purpose fit;  
Where the whole Nation like our Apes are dressed  
And grave long Garments hate,  
Being much of their Capacity and Wit.  
Go then and dancing Masters fetch from France,  
The best choose by their Apish countenance,  
To teach our Apes like men, or like themselves to dance.   

Sails from Marcellies a stout vessel sets,  
Laden with dancing Masters, and their Kits,  
To purge the King of all his melancholy fits.  
Now Eastern Apes ply  dancing Schools,  
Where the dull Germane, joined  
With the raw English Ass,  
That imitate all Nations, looked like fools;  
The Apes were so refined,  
That all our alamodes they far surpass:  
How they a Brawl, a Saraband would do!  
How stately move in a Coranto! who  
From their great Masters, now, the cunning Scholar knew.   

Oft for his Monsieur the King pleased to ask:  
But when he heard they had performed their task,  
He Solemn Order gave to have a stately mask.  
And now th' expected night was come: when late  
Enters the joyful King,  
And takes his lofty Chair:  
About him Peers and Princes of the State,  
And in a glorious Ring,  
Sat Gipsy Ladies, there, accounted fair.  
The Scene appears, the envious Curtain drawn  
In Gold and Purple, tufted with pure lawn,  
Beasts Frenchified, showed like the blushing dawn.   

When from the Scene, a nimble Hermes springs,  
With his Caduceus, golden Shoes, and Wings,  
Conducting in a dynasty of ancient Kings:  
That had been Mummey many thousand years  
Before our Authors say,  
Adam the world began:  
Each in his hand a mighty Sceptre bears,  
And from their heads display  
Twelve Silver rays, shot from a Golden Sun.  
Like demie God's the Apes began to move,  
Semele saw, such a Majestic Jove,  
The men admire, the taken Ladies fire, with love.   

When one that knew what best would please the King,  
A  of Nuts did 'mong these Hero's fling;  
Which suddenly did all to great disorder bring.  
Figures they quit, and alter soon their pace,  
And scambling run to seize  
Their most beloved Nuts:  
Respecting not the Majesty of place  
These would King's Palaces  
Forsake to reign in well stored Squirrels Huts.  
At last the Dancing Kings began to rage,  
Scuffling for prey, old Princes seeming sage,  
All Laws of revels broke, and in fierce War engage.   

They fight, they scratch, they tumble over and over,  
Their Masking suits are all in Mammocks tore,  
The Stage with green cloth spread, is now a Field of gore.  
There Apish Masters taken with the sport,  
Among the thickest run,  
Where scambling down they fall:  
Then shouts and laughter shake the joyful Court,  
Which had not yet been done,  
But that the King did cry a Hall a Hall.  
All silent then, he gravely thus began.  
Rich , nor cost, nor education can  
Change nature, nor transform an Ape into a Man.   

MORAL.  
Nature in th' old world's infancy was strong:  
But Education, Diet, Art, so long  
'Mongst Mortals hath prevailed, that Apes and Owls  
Not only shapes transform, but change their Souls.    


56  THE SIX AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Eagle and the Beetle.  

O Thou most noble Beetle, thou that art  
Styled by some Nations the black flying Hart,  
O save my life, and do a friendly part.  
The towering Eagle threatens from the Skies  
Poor 
* The Hare.  Keyward to destroy.  
Help thou whose troops of Hornets, Wasps and Flies  
The Bestial Army did annoy,  
More in that fatal day the Lion lost,  
Then they, who Wings like spreading Sails might boast:  
Armed trumpeters they were, whose numerous swarms  
Thundered about their ears still fresh alarms,  
And in their faces fixed their venomed arms.   

Thus at approaching death the Hare dismayed  
To the poor Beetle for protection prayed,  
Who pities and to safety him conveyed.  
The Eagle lights, and asks whose in that Cave,  
She straight replies, I here  
A harmless Beast my menial servant have,  
The Hare whom I esteem most dear.  
But the Eagle tore him straight without remorse.  
Then said the Beetle, I that killed a Horse  
With Hornets nine in that victorious day;  
And dost thou thus thy Soldier's service pay,  
Those that can help, to hurt may find away.  
And now the eagle's Queen laid Royal Eggs:  
When the vexed Fly aid of Allecto begs;  
Who sprinkles her black wings with Stygian dregs;  
And to small Members gave a mighty force.  
Soon the high Nest she found  
And what an Embryo was, without remorse,  
Did break and tumble to the ground.  
At which her Husband mounts Etherial skies,  
And to his great Protector Jove thus cries.  
The spiteful Beetle to our Palace came,  
And our dear race, which should preserve our name,  
She hath destroyed, and I most wretched am.   

To whom thus Jove in pleasing language said,  
Thou brought'st me Ganymede on wings displayed,  
Thou needst not thus for our high favour plead.  
When next thy Queen brings forth a happy Birth,  
And hath supplied her Nest,  
Bring them to me up from the dangerous earth,  
And those I'll cherish in my Breast.  
Pleased with the grant the Bird descends again,  
And did his Spouse with sweet Love entertain:  
Who straight another hopeful Issue brings,  
With which to Heaven he mounts on spreading wings  
And bears them to great Jove the King of Kings.   

Hell hath no depth, nor profound Heaven that height,  
Will not be found by wrong begotten spite.  
Thither the furious Beetle takes her flight;  
And bears with her fowl Pills of sordid earth,  
Which in Jove's Breast she threw.  
He shakes them out, with them the unhatched Birth:  
Which when the God did view;  
He said, I that have made, and can Unhinge  
This world's great frame, yet cannot curb Revenge.  
And therefore Mortals, you that strongest are  
Of injuring the smallest Worm beware;  
Since they our lap, a Sanctuary, not spare.   

MORAL.  
To find much Treasure, to obtain a Bride,  
For whom so oft thou hast, and others died;  
Hungry and cold, Feasts and Rich Wine to meet,  
To sweetness of Revenge are nothing sweet.    


57  THE SEVEN AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Fox and the Cat.  

THus to the Cat the Fox did boast his parts,  
And glorified himself with his own Arts.  
Know Madam Pusse, a thousand ways I have  
Beloved life to save,  
Despising the advantage of a Cave.  
When bloody Hounds pursued me, I have oft  
Traced my own scent, and their vain fury scoffed:  
When Dogs the Men, Masters their Dogs condemn,  
While I did both contemn  
And in contracted circles hunted them.   

When me swift Greyhounds followed, though a brace,  
I have struck blind, and urind in their face.  
When after me both Court and Country throng,  
I from a Branch have sprung,  
And in a stream on yielding Sallows hung:  
Only my mouth above the swelling wave.  
The King is mad, the Dogs, and Huntsmen rave.  
These arts of mine, would many Volumes make,  
My slights would fill a Sack,  
Of which from many, this short story take.   

In a full slaughter house hung round with meat,  
I uninvited did descend to eat:  
Feasted with Poultry, Mutton, Veal, and Lamb,  
I did attempt the way I came  
To have leaped back, but fell short of my aim,  
When in a fierce Man comes; no sooner spied,  
But with loud voice, the Thief is found he cried;  
Then shuts the door and casts at me a stone,  
Which bruised my Shoulder bone:  
And made me Fiz, 'twas with such Fury thrown.   

The fight was long, and doubtful, in short space  
I could expect no other but Uncase:  
My Liver given in Wine to them that could  
By Night no Water hold  
And Hectic Lords to drink my Tail in Gold.  
At last he threw at me a mighty Stone,  
Which fell beneath the place where I came down,  
He stoops to take it up: on's back I stepped,  
Thence through the Window leaped,  
And spite of him my Skin and Breakfast keeped.   

Then said the Cat I have no trick but one,  
If that Grimmalkin fail, then she's undone.  
While thus she spoke a pack of Dogs they see  
Pusse nimbly takes a tree,  
The Fox's heels must his deliverers be.  
Safe on a Bough the Cat in th' open plain,  
Maugre all Arts, saw boasting Reynard slain;  
When thus she spoke, Friend for thy Death I'm sad,  
Much knowledge makes some Mad,  
One good Art better is, than thousand bad.   

MORAL.  
Some think, much Learning and to many Arts  
Debillitate the strength of natural parts:  
Oft one ingenious Mystery fills the bags,  
When Men of many Trades scarce purchase rags.    


58  THE EIGHT AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the Fox and the Goat.  

NOw Syrius and the Sun seemed to conspire,  
To set the great world's Arctic side on fire:  
Countries forbidden by eternal Laws  
To feel excessive heat,  
Lay in a burning sweat:  
Opening ten thousand parched Jaws  
Water to get:  
To silence put were all those purling streams,  
Whose murmur gives to Shepherd's pleasant dreams:  
And some did think,  
Another Phaeton the Sea would drink.  
Scarce would Deucalion's flood restore the Grass,  
Earth was turned Iron, Heaven had so long been Brass.   

In this Combustion, and excessive heat:  
The Fox and Goat extremely thirsty met,  
Where (but deep digged) by chance they found a Well.  
Then spoke the Learned Fox,  
Dry are all Pipes and Cocks;  
For drink I'll venture down to Hell:  
Through Adamantine Rocks  
To Pluto's Cellars break, to get one drop;  
And from loud Cerberus waking, snatch his Sop.  
Let it be so,  
Come Father let us try these shades below:  
This said, they down to the deep Fountain glide,  
Where they beheld the Heaven scarce three yards wide.  
There they drank deep, and now their hands being in,  
Profoundly quaff to th' Lion and his Queen,  
Many go downs on Reputation drank;  
To th' Bull, the Bear and Boar,  
To all could fight and roar:  
To Animals, then, of the civil rank.  
Sufficed gave over;  
For sensual Beasts could always better tell,  
Than could the Rational when they are well.  
But here the Goat  
Stroking his Beard the hard return did note;  
And sighing said, to Hell's an easy way,  
But how shall we again revisit day.   

That is a work, a task beyond my skill.  
Then said the Fox have a good courage still:  
The means is found to Scale Etherial Skies:  
Against these steep Walls set,  
Your two fore-feets;  
Stand Manlike on your hinder Thighs;  
Let your Chin meet  
Your Hairy Bosom, that your horns may rise  
Upright, as if prepared to But the Skies:  
Then from your back to those two Spires I'll leap,  
Whence out is but a step,  
Then on the brinck, I'll in fit posture stand,  
Grave Sir, to bring you off with my strong hand.  
Th' advice is took, who would good Counsel doubt?  
And at three skips, the nimble Fox got out.  
Then at the Margins like a wanton Hind  
Sports, proud of his success,  
Nor more his promises,  
Nor his forsaken friend did mind;  
Who in distress  
False Reynard did with breach of Faith upbraid.  
Th' insulting Fox to him deriding said,  
Goat, in thy Head had so much Wisdom been  
As Hair upon thy Chin,  
(But long Beards wittless are) thou wouldst have known  
How to get up, before thou hadst come down.   

MORAL.  
For Action Youth, Age best with Counsel fits,  
But readiest are in danger younger wits.  
A Forrest-Beard, grave looks, and Silver locks,  
'Mong shaved Chins show now like Tradesmens blocks.    


59  THE NINE AND FIFTIETH FABLE. Of the old Weasel and the Mice.  

I That so long maintained this ample house  
From bold excursions of the plundering Mouse,  
And in huge Weinscot Woods have in their holes,  
Where never Cat could venture, freed their souls:  
Now growing old, my strength and courage fail,  
Just when I have them by the tail,  
Like a swift Ship arrested under Sail  
By Rocks or Remora's, I stay,  
While they the Pillage to strong holds convey.  
And when I stand and Cough,  
And sharp-breathed Tysicks shake my panting sides,  
The Miceans laugh,  
And Old-Rat m'imbecillitie derides.   

In this my house Soldiers and Scholars dine,  
Inspired with truth from most oraculous Wine,  
I heard them say, That Strength, and Courage, are  
Inferior much to Policy in War.  
There gouty Generals in Chairs will sit,  
And by a Stratagem of wit,  
Make stubborn Kings, with all their powers submit.  
If it be so, I'll Cunning use at length,  
Since with my Youth Courage is gone, and Strength.  
In this huge pile of Wheat  
I'll shelter, and the Cat's invasion shun.  
Let Miceans eat  
To my retreat,  
And dined, then let them from the Weasel run.  
Th' Old Vermin said, and dives into the Hold  
Thrice his own length; as soon the news was told  
The Foe was dead: then black bands issue out,  
And like a deluge through the house are born:  
They plunder all the Corn,  
And highly feast from Evening to the Morn.  
When with the dawn Ceralian Mountains shook,  
And a dire spectrum with a ghastly look  
Rose from th' infernal shade,  
Which to the Plunderers did no favour show:  
Great slaughter made,  
The Weasel said,  
Who Questions Fraud or Valour in a Foe?   

MORAL.  
Oft unknown Stratagems shorten a long War;  
'Tis not how Valiant, but how Wise they are  
That Armies lead: but Money is a spell  
That Conquers all, and takes in Heaven and Hell.    


60  THE SIXTIETH FABLE. Of the Spider and the Swallow.  

OH I shall burst  
With my own Poison stirred;  
Oh that accursed  
And most despiteful Bird,  
The Swallow daily on spread Wings resounding,  
Near leaves surrounding  
These vast and empty Halls;  
And bold at once on winged legions falls  
Of Flies that sport  
About our Court,  
And gives whole thousands cruel Funerals:   

While I in vain  
Have built my lofty Rooms,  
From Wind and Rain  
Secure, and cruel Brooms.  
There I spread Nets to catch the bonelesse people,  
High as a Steeple:  
With slender hands and thyghs  
Spining my bowels, poor Arachne lies  
Watching all day  
To seize a prey,  
And catch not one, this Bird takes all the Flies.   

What shall I do.  
Now to revenged be?  
I'll make a clue  
And threads twist three times three:  
I know the Chimney top where builds the Swallow,  
Thither I'll follow,  
The Spider said;  
Then o'er her Nest, most skilful in her Trade,  
All night She spun  
Till day begun,  
And as she thought, a dangerous Engine made.   

The Swallow saw,  
And said thus with a smile;  
I that gave Law  
To th' overflowing Nile,  
And with huge Bulwarks did keep out his water,  
Though floods did batter  
A furlong wide,  
I with ranged Nests keeped out his Conquering tide:  
And is this Net  
To catch me set?  
Thou shouldst thy Mesh, fond Spinster, first have tried.   

When with the dawn  
Out the swift Swallow flies,  
And Cobweb Lawn  
She breaks, then to the Skies  
The Spider, and her vain endeavour carries;  
And never tarries,  
Until her flight  
Did put 
* Spider.  Arachne in a woeful plight;  
In one small rope  
Was all her hope,  
And if that break She on the earth must light.  
When thus she said;  
I am deservedly  
Example made,  
That scarce could take a Fly  
With all my boasted Art, and fond Endeavour,  
To think that ever  
In such thin Meshes I could Swallows catch:  
I did but ill  
Employ my skill  
And a Night's toil, myself to overreach.   

MORAL.  
Jews, Turks, and Christians, several tenets hold,  
Yet most one God acknowledge, and that's Gold,  
Parent of Love and Hate, in Peace or War  
Strength and Craft may, but thou much more by far.     


61  THE FABLES OF AESOP. The Fourth BOOK.  

THE ONE AND SIXTIETH FABLE. Of Cupid, Death, and Reputation.  

CUpid, and Death, with Reputation met  
At woeful Hymen's, where the cruel Fates  
At once snatched two, fair, young, and noble Mates:  
And th' unrequired debt  
Enforced them to pay,  
Long time before the day  
That was by nature set:  
Conjugal rites are changed, a Funeral torch  
Conducts dead lovers through a mournful porch.   

The fatal Archers having put up darts  
With which glad Offices, and sad were done,  
Their fames enrolled by Reputation,  
And three Gods played their parts:  
They in the woeful House  
Full Cups of Brine Carouse,  
And from sad Parents heart's,  
Kindred, & Friends, which in long order stood,  
Quaffed, broached with sighs, warm spirits mixed with blood.   

They then began to vapour, and with Vain  
Boasting promote their power; now mellow grown,  
Desire t' each other to be better known,  
And where to meet again,  
Such Company to enjoy.  
Cupid although a Boy,  
Yet eldest there begun:  
All-Conquering Death, and Reputation, know,  
Though Heaven's my Seat, I places haunt below.   

But seek not me, where oft you hear my name,  
In Prince's Courts, nor 'mong the City throngs;  
They all are Atheists, only in their tongues  
My Deity proclaim:  
Their Bosoms never felt  
My kindly Shafts, nor melt  
With true coequal flame.  
They Lust, and Wealth adore, to me they bring  
Poesies for Offerings, conjured in a Ring.   

But I reside in th' unfrequented plain,  
Where silly Sheep the harmless Shepherd feeds,  
Playing sweet Pastoral notes, on Oaten reeds;  
There every Youthful Swain,  
And blushing Virgin, well  
Can tell you where I dwell,  
Who in their Bosom Reign;  
In those chaste Temples resident I'am  
Till the last hour quench the long-lasting flame.   

Then Death began; My Habitations are  
Not in this world, but at the Gates of Hell,  
I with the Devil and his Angels dwell:  
The Cruel Furies there  
On Iron Couches lie,  
And bloody Pillets tie  
Their Elf-locked viperous Hair.  
By Love, nor Reputation to be found,  
Three thousand mile and more beneath the ground.   

But you shall find me, where in mighty War,  
Against his King, some Valiant General stands;  
There you shall see me use ten thousand hands.  
Or when that burning Star  
Joyns a pestiferous ray  
With the great eye of day,  
And towns infected are:  
Then th' Angel Death you with a sith shall meet,  
Mowing down thousands, daily in the Street.   

Then Reputation spoke; I have no Seat,  
But wander up and down from coast to coast,  
Hard to be found, and easy to be lost.  
Therefore I would entreat,  
Since now you have me, you  
Would keep me; there are few  
Having departed, meet  
With me again; though false or small the ground;  
Lost Reputation hard is to be found.   

MORAL.  
From Honest dealing Reputation springs,  
But other notes the Matchivellian sings.  
They are most honoured, who are most unjust,  
And wrong or right stand faithful to their trust.    


62  THE TWO AND SIXTIETH FABLE. Of the Gourd, and Pine.  

THere was a stately Pine which long had stood  
The glory of, and was itself a Wood;  
Which when the warring Tempests took the Fields,  
Did shake a hundred Arms with levy shields,  
Which watched about her, a perpetual guard,  
'Gainst all the injuries of Heaven, prepared.  
Conqueror's Trophies, Shepherds there their Pipes  
Did use to hang; of War and Peace the Types.  
Upon the swelling Bark Lovers did put  
Their names with knots, and pleasant Fancies cut,  
Still intimating, as the Letters grow  
With the increasing tree, their Loves should so.   

Near to this plant which flourished many years,  
In one short night shot up, a Gourd appears:  
Which by sweet Seasons, gentle Dews, and Rain,  
Did suddenly a mighty Body gain;  
Her Boughs were spread, to Heaven her proud head shoots,  
With blossoms white, the hopes of blushing fruits.   

This Princock, the base Issue of the Morn,  
When she beheld the Pine with branches torn,  
Her front want Curls, an antiquated grace,  
Mixed with times ruin in a careful face,  
Herself beholding glorious as the day,  
In Green and Silver Liveries of May;  
Proud of herself at last forth boldly stood,  
Comparing thus with th' honour of the Wood  
Give place, base withered Pine, that I may grow,  
And at a distance me your better know:  
Dost thou not see how far we do excel?  
My Crown strikes Heaven, and my roots touch Hell.  
My Leaves are fairer, and more fresh than thine;  
A Prince may on my Golden Apples dine,  
When yours are fit to serve a hungry Pig.  
See how my tresses flow! thy Periwig  
So ruffled and uncurld, with boisterous storms,  
Is powdered with the Dust of Canker-Worms,  
Of which you're pleased some to bestow on me.  
Then gravely thus replied the scorned tree.   

I many a raging Winter here have been,  
And felt black Austers & bleak Roreas' spleen,  
And when loud winds made Cock-shoots through the Wood,  
Rending down mighty Okes, I firm have stood:  
So when I with Autumnal blasts have lost  
My golden tresses with a biting Frost,  
I stood bareheaded, and was naked-armed,  
When the Sun beams no more than Cynthia warmed;  
I, in as extreme heats here also stood,  
When Sol and Syrius to the swarthy mud  
Drank brimful Rivers, what the earth did yield  
Roasted to powder, in the parched Field,  
And to the bellowing Herds, and bleating Flocks  
Gave shelter under my thick shady locks.  
Here I stand firm, all changes have endured,  
My body with its mighty arms secured.  
But when the raging heat, or bitter cold,  
Or rough winds rise, Gourd, you'll not be so bold.  
These gaudy Flowers and spreading Leaves you boast,  
Favours of Madam May, will all be lost:  
Then I shall see thy Root and Branches torn,  
And blown about, to the proud Winds a scorn.  
Of Pride in thy Prosperity beware,  
Vicissitudes of Fortune Constant are.   

MORAL.  
Whose tresses are in Golden billows curled,  
Whose eyes give life and light unto the world,  
Bald wrinkled age despise, and hate to hear,  
They shall in time as ruinous appear.    

THE SIXTY THIRD FABLE. Of the Devil and a Mallefactor.  

A Mallefactor such a one that made  
Of Murder, Theft, and Sacrilege a trade:  
One that could Club  
Plots to work mischief with old Belzebub,  
And had from him at need especial aid;  
A little Devil still  
Helped him when things went ill,  
And oft from Prisons, and strong Warders took,  
And when condemned did save without his book.   

He was an Honest Devil, and a stout,  
A good Solicitor to troth about.  
How he would trudge!  
There with a Golden dream corrupt the Judge,  
Here with like visions a whole jury rout;  
On this, a plenteous shower  
Of yellow drops he'd power  
To Angel Gold transformed, there he would set  
Some Courtier on, that should his pardon get.   

Who as his custom now in Jail thus prayed  
Unto the Devil his good Lord for aid:  
Almighty Fiend,  
To thy poor Barabas some comfort send;  
Who most unjustly is in Prison laid:  
Whom I so late did stab,  
Did call my Mistress drab,  
Good Pluto hear, and leave awhile debats  
Of striving Princes, and aspiring States.   

Thus while he prayed, his Spirit appeared, his Back  
With old shoes loaden, and thus sadly spoke:  
Evening and Morn,  
Trotting for thee, out all these Shoes are worn.  
No more thy business friend I'll undertake:  
To hang then be Content  
Since all my Coin is spent:  
Without which busy Lawyers will not do  
Ought for great Belzebub, myself, or you.   

MORAL.  
The Devil oft for his servants does his best,  
But now since Mortals have the Fiends possessed,  
Seek Hell no more, but with worse men, compact,  
Wouldst thou to life unheardof mischief act.    


64  THE SIXTY FOURTH FABLE. Of the Lion and the Horse.  

THe Lion old, his power grown weak, his Crown  
By Bestial commotions trampled down,  
Resolves to fill his Coffers with the gown.  
Doctorships three,  
Of Law, of Physic, and Divinity,  
There be:  
But which of these may greatest profit bring,  
He long debates, than spoke the Quondam King.   

Sir Reynard thrives not since this civil War,  
Nor pleading Beasts oft wake the slumbering Bar,  
Suits few be grown, but Bribes more frequent are:  
Law hath no force  
When plains are eaten up by armed Horse,  
Her course  
Obstructed is, what ever Gods and men  
Injustice stile, is Law and Justice then.   

Nor 
* Woolf.  Isgrims Preaching tribe now better fare,  
Though great Incendiaries of this War,  
Since Beasts in Buff full as long wound are:  
The Sheepskin gown,  
Lined with Hypocrisy and Rebellion,  
Is down;  
In his own  th' Ass stands without a Ruff,  
Beating the Pulpit with an unpaird Hoof.   

Law and Divinity of these times farewell,  
The Soldier is about to Ring your Knell;  
I'll turn Physician, and Diseases sell.  
A Turf, or Stone  
Conceals ill Covers are by bad leeches done,  
If one,  
Or two we chance to help, up goes our name,  
Then patiented Beasts come in, both wild and tame.   

While thus he spoke, a pampered Horse he spies;  
And clapping on his Doctorships disguise,  
Said, on this patiented first I'll exercise,  
And let him blood,  
For me a drench may make him present food,  
And good:  
Oft skilful Empirics do as bad or worse,  
And try experiments would kill a Horse.   

Then to the grazing steed the Lion spoke,  
Your Horseship looks not well, be pleased to take  
Something I'll give you for prevention sake:  
What's worldly Wealth,  
When sad Diseases shall invade your health,  
By stealth;  
When in these pastures you shall raging lie,  
And tear those pampered limbs before you die.   

Sir, I in Germany have practised long,  
Where humane Bodies are like Horses strong,  
What there I did prescribe, no Beast can wrong;  
In England too,  
Where men now drink as deep as they, or you,  
A few  
Covers I have done, I made on cast a Frog  
Had turned his paunch with drinking to a Bog.   

Mercurius-Dulcis, Scamonie, and the Flos  
Of Sulphur, Colocynthis, each a dose;  
Shall purge all humours choleric or Gross.  
And next our art  
Directs a cordial to refresh the heart,  
A Quart  
Of Dyapenthed Muscadel each Morn,  
Shall seven years free you from the Farrier's horn.   

The Horse perciev'd the Doctor was not well,  
Did through disguise a hungry Lion smell,  
And thus his malady began to tell.  
Sir th' other morn,  
Leaping a hedge to breakfast on green Corn,  
A Thorn  
Did pierce my foot; your Doctorship no doubt,  
Hath so much Surgery to draw it out.   

The Lion joyful was of any hint,  
And looks on's foot; which, as the Devil were in't,  
Dashed him o'th' brow, and leaves in blood the Print,  
And dead him lays:  
Wheeling about him then the palfrey neighs,  
And says,  
A double fee dear Doctor is your due  
For your great cure, come, and I'll make it two.   

At last th' astonished Lion rising said;  
I am with fraud for fraud most justly paid,  
And my own Stratagem hath me betrayed.  
Who lay a bait,  
Should see lest others use not like deceit,  
Too late  
They may repent having their error then  
Writ on their brow, thus with an Iron Pen.   

MORAL.  
He that in health by Physics prescript lives,  
Sickness t' himself, Wealth to Physicians gives.  
Sick take advice, but well to Nature trust,  
Let none, with Doctor's deal, but when they must.    


65  THE SIXTY FIFTH FABLE. Of the Sun and Wind.  

ROugh Boreas proud of many victories, now  
Will not pre-eminence to the Sun allow.  
While Phoebus stands, in the high Solstice, mute,  
The blustering Wind did thus for place dispute.   

Phoebus we are not ignorant of your parts,  
And profound science in ignoble arts  
Of Minstrelsy and Physic, and we know  
Well you can dart, and use a sounding bow.  
But these are toys, let Gods for power contend:  
When I my forces muster, when I blend  
My Rain and Hail, and Snow; or when I clear,  
As now, black clouds from the bright Hemisphere,  
(Which you with all your rays could not dispierce,  
But suffered them to drown the Universe)  
I shall appear more potent far than thou.  
Thou canst warp Timber, make green Staves to bow;  
But I tall Okes that lofty Mountain's Crown,  
And only with my breath, can tumble down.  
How many stately Piles have I overthrown?  
And Towns interred with their own falling stone?  
But who at Sea can my great victories tell!  
Where I 'twixt billows storm the Gates of Hell;  
On watery Mountains and congested Floods,  
Then make approaches dreadful to the Gods.  
Like racket-Bals with Argosies I sport,  
And the whole Ocean is my Tennis-Court.  
Sailors in vain then to thy Deity pray,  
That thou wouldst let them know there is a day.  
But while I thunder through the trembling shrouds,  
Thou dar'st not peep through mellancholie clouds.  
And when Autumnus with the year grows old,  
Thou looking on, I break hard Rocks with cold,  
And turn broad Seas ploughed up with thundering keels,  
To roads, where Wagons jolt with groaning wheels.  
These are the acts that I have done, nor can  
They be denied by Fiend, or God, or Man.   

Then Phoebus; said words Boreas are but wind,  
But let experience judge, than thou shalt find  
Who strongest is; That Traveller behold:  
Muster Riphaean blasts and Russian cold,  
And take from him his upper weed, that cloak,  
Which trembled at each breath, now while you spoke:  
But if thou canst not, leave the task to me,  
And seize comparing with a Deity.   

Here he a Cloud unfolds, which like a pack,  
Bore winds to sell to Witches at his back ..  
And at one soup he treasures in his mouth,  
Dry Northern vapours, and the dropsid-South.  
Adding case shot of new created Hail:  
His swelling cheeks made frighted Seamen pale.  
But on the Man he falls with all his power,  
And round beleagures, with a sudden shower.  
Storms him with whirlwind, lined with biting cold,  
Yet all in vain, he faster kept his hold.  
What rend huge branches from a sturdy Oak,  
Can not devorce the crafty from his cloak.  
Who fight with Heaven, with Wool must keep out death.  
Then Boreas fainting asked sometime to breath.  
When Phoebus smiled, and bid the weary rest;  
This said, his brows he with much glory dressed,  
And at the Traveller a whole Quiver shot  
Of fiery darts, he warms first, then grows hot;  
From pores exhausted Briny Rivers flow;  
He takes short breath, at last he scarce could go;  
Weary and faint, then resting in the shade,  
Throws by his Cloak, and Phoebus' victor made.   

Then said the God, Boreas thou art but voice,  
Great actions are not carried on by noise;  
What Ranters, nor loud blustering can obtain,  
A fancy, or facetious jest may gain.  
They that contend, they should not only know  
The Forces, but the Cunning of the Foe.  
Valour and Strength though Warriors great, submit  
To Counsel, and th' Almighty power of Wit.   

Then Northern Boreas saw himself a Fool,  
And was resolved to put his Sons to School.   

MORAL.  
Loud threaten make men stuborn, but kind words  
Pierce gentle Breasts sooner than sharpest Swords.  
To Rant and Mouth is not so near away  
To Cheat your Brother, as by Yea, and Nay.    


66  THE SIXTY SIXTH FABLE. Of the Wolf and the Lamb.  

GReat seed of Mars, O Romulus, who art  
My Grandsires' fosterbrother, aid impart:  
If ere you at a she- Wolveses bosom hung,  
If her life-saving Milk made you so strong,  
And fierce,  
If ere those hands she fashioned with her tongue  
Laid Walls which after ruled the Universe,  
Then for her sake send help;  
I and my tender Whelp  
Are like to Die,  
Ah for some Food,  
A little Blood,  
We cry;  
Help thou that art the Wolves great Deity.   

Scarce were his prayers ended, when he spied  
A Bearded Goat, and Lamb walk side by side.  
Then said the glad Wolf, I am heard: this Lamb  
To me a Present from Rome's founder came.  
she's fat,  
Her Guardian is more dangerous than the Ram,  
And his known prowess I have tried of late:  
The fortune of all fights  
Are doubtful, I'll use slights.  
Then loud he cries,  
Good Mistress Lamb,  
As is your Dam,  
Be wise,  
And leave that stinking Lecher I advise.   

Seekest thou sweet Milk from rank He-Goats to get?  
Return poor Innocent to thy Mother's teat,  
There at extended Udders take thy fill,  
Kids drain their Dams, the Lamb her Mother still.  
Beside  
Such Masters of the Flocks are counted ill,  
That rough Goats, not from fleecy Sheep divide.  
Sweet Lamb forsake this Goat,  
Go to thy Mother's coat,  
The nearest way  
Is through the Woods,  
Where tender Buds  
You may  
Gather, and you and I in shade will play.   

Then said the Bleater; know Sir Woolf I am  
To follow the instructions of my Dam;  
My Parent's Counsel, and not yours obey:  
She bid me with this armed Father stay.  
The Counsel of our friends  
Too oft have biased ends,  
But when a Foe  
Shall give advice  
The Lamb's so wise  
To know,  
Some Plot may be to work her overthrow.   

MORAL.  
Youth that must travel careful Tutors need,  
Lest God's commands, their Parents, and their Creed,  
Should shaken by strange tenets be, and they  
Return worse principled, than put to Sea.    


67  THE SIXTY SEVENTH FABLE. Of the Oak and the Reed.  

THe four winds mustered up winds four times seven  
From all their Horizontick seats in Heaven,  
Thirty two brethren did at once conspire,  
Because the Sacred Oak was free,  
By Jove's decree,  
Both from Celestial fire  
And thunder,  
On her to wreak their spite,  
And in one hideous night  
T' extirp and ruin quite,  
And all her Boughs and verdant leaves to Plunder.  
To the Skies Arbiters since she'll not bend,  
They are resolved up by the roots to rend.   

Stout Eurus mounts his steeds; on Northern Hags  
Rough Boreas rides, black Auster sable Bags  
And fowl Borachio's filled i'th' Southern main;  
Bright Zephyre now comes muffled up,  
And in his troop  
Did bring a Heuricane  
To render.  
They all at once discharge,  
Huge arms and branches large,  
'Gainst Sun and Wind a targe,  
From their proud fury could no more defend her,  
But with a mighty ruin branch and root,  
Groaning her last, lights at the Mountain Foot.   

From whence down on the Rivers back she swims,  
Which the fowl night had swelled above the Brims.  
Catching her Boughs a small Reed stopped her way;  
The hapless Oak, not yet quite dead,  
Then raised her Head,  
And to the Reed did say;  
I wonder  
That thou shouldst scape last night,  
Who scarce canst stand upright,  
So huge a tempests spite,  
And art not rend like wretched me asunder:  
Trusting my own strength, I from Rocks was torn,  
And to ridiculous winds am now a scorn.   

The gentle Reed then softly whispering said;  
I am not of the greatest storm afraid;  
When raging Winds among themselves contend,  
What way they hurry through the Sky  
That course lie I,  
And flexible do bend:  
I marvel  
How you so long kept up,  
Disdaining still to stoop  
To that all-conquering troop  
Which wracks tall Ships, & drowns the stoutest Carvell:  
I to the strongest yield, what ever chance,  
All fortunes vanquished are by sufferance.   

MORAL.  
Though strong, resist not a too potent foe;  
Madmen against a violent torrent row.  
Thou mayst hereafter serve the Commonweal,  
Then yield till time shall latter Acts repeal.    


68  THE SIXTY EIGHTH FABLE. Of Jupiter and the Ass.  

JOve, thou who viewst from thy Imperial Sky,  
And pitiest oft a Worm or injured Fly,  
Leaving to Fate,  
That Supreme State,  
The March and Muster of the Golden Stars,  
And to inconstant Fortune Princes Wars;  
Without advice of thy great Counsel send,  
And well thou mayst, aid to th' oppressed Ass,  
Me from the Gard'ners' tyranny defend:  
Father of Men and Gods,  
So heavy are my loads,  
That though my Ribs were Steel, my Shoulders Brass.  
I in a little space  
Must yield to cruel death:  
O change my place, or stop my vital breath.   

The Gard'ners' Ass to mighty Jove thus prayed,  
Who straight did bind him to another trade,  
A Tiller now  
His back did bow,  
And him with what whole roofs must cover loads,  
Through deep ways lashing, and far longer roads.  
When thus to Jove the Beast again did pray;  
Thou who from slavery brought'st the Golden Ass,  
And didst prefer to them that Sceptres sweigh,  
With supercilious look,  
He now denies the Book,  
And cruel in his place  
Oft frights sad Prisoners with his Beastly face:  
O hear me when I cry,  
And change this Master too, or else I die.   

Jove turned him over to another straight,  
A cruel Tanner, who with no less weight  
Did load his back  
Till it did crack:  
But when he found his Master's trade, and spied  
Him Currying of his Brother Asses hid,  
Struck with sad omens of his woeful doom,  
Thus to himself the wretched did complain;  
I see that seldom better Masters come,  
I should have been content,  
With what the Gods have sent;  
This, when I am with cruel labour slain,  
Will put me to fresh pain,  
And what should shroud me in  
He will not spare, but dead will Tan my skin.   

MORAL.  
Is it Decreed, and did the fate's consent,  
None should with present fortune be content,  
Though in right judgement they most happy are?  
If so, no wonder Men change Peace for War.    


69  THE SIXTY NINTH FABLE. Of the same Ass.  

BUt after Jove, pitying the woeful Ass,  
Bids Hermes take, and turn him out to Grass;  
There let him wander far, in unknown ground,  
Nor by his cruel Master soon be found.  
There the free born did lead a happy life  
Among wild Asses, there he got a Wife,  
A dainty female Ass, whose Assian seed,  
In Vales and Groves, and on green Mountains feed.  
Of Concubines since prosperous his affairs,  
He had a whole Seraglio of wild Maies.  
The Martial Steed, though spurred with Venus, proof  
Was not for his enamoured Rivals hoof;  
But when he thought though up to th' eyes in Grass  
Of his mean House, though Rich, yet still an Ass:  
That the brave Horse could boast proud Ancestors,  
And great achievements got in ancient Wars,  
Then he repined, and when he saw his ears  
At watering, brackish made the flood with tears.  
But he had friends at Court, the Golden Ass,  
T' ennoble him, might see his Patent pass.   

While thus he murmured, mighty War arose,  
And great Kings prove (to raise their interests) foes:  
Those Horse grazed with him, on Thessallian plains,  
Were all took up, and curbed with Bits and Reins,  
Yet still he keeped his walk; at last he saw  
Full Legions in thick ranks to Battle draw.  
Then sees them charge, when suddenly the Fields  
Were strewed with Men & Horse, & Spears, & Shields,  
And Steeds he knew thrust through with hostile spears.  
At this new light, 'twixt grief, and joy, with tears  
He thanks the Gods they coined him but an Ass,  
Nor made a Horse, then said, I here may pass  
My life in safety, and when Wars surcease,  
An Ass may make a Justice of the Peace.   

MORAL.  
In Halcyons some repine, others no loss  
Deject at all: is thy own fortune cross?  
Rectify it then; with better men compare,  
And let their losses mollify thy care.    


70  THE SEVENTIETH FABLE. Of the same Ass and his Lion's Skin.  

AFter that mighty Battle, where the Ass  
A sad Spectator was,  
Had long been fought, as various Chance did please,  
Till many valiant Captains died the Grass,  
And their great Souls stood near the Stygian Seas  
Begging a pass:  
While Dogs, and Vultures feasted on the slain;  
The Long-eard went to view the bloody plain,  
And though an Ass, not without hope of gain.   

Among huge heaps of slaughter, on the green,  
He found a Lion's Skin,  
Once dreadful Trappings to a gallant Steed,  
Old-fancyed honour, as this prize was seen,  
To raise Himself and his ignoble Breed,  
Did fresh begin,  
The shaggy main conceals his back, the jaws  
Gape over his face, long was the train, the paws  
Struck fire on's hoofs, and shine with golden claws.   

Acoutred thus, he with Majestic pace  
Returns unto his place,  
And at first view routs all the timorous Flocks,  
(The Ass is dreadful in the Lion's Case:)  
Bulls leave their Courtship, and the labouring Ox  
As he did pass,  
Ran bellowing as if bit by Summer swarms,  
Nor Goat, nor Ram, have confidence in arms,  
But fly for safety from such fierce alarms.   

And now the Ass did over vast Country's reign,  
Commanding all the plain,  
Scorning those honours which at first he aimed,  
Wondering he thoughts so mean could entertain.  
The Lioness a Princess him inflamed,  
Her love to gain,  
Th' Impostor said, must be our next design,  
The Royal and the Assian house must join,  
Then by just title all these Plains are mine.   

When Fortune, that delights in casting down  
Great Kings, began to frown,  
The cruel Tanner who had lost his Ass,  
Several occasions sent on foot from town;  
He saw the Prodigy, wondering what it was,  
To be his own  
He little dreamt, What ere thou art, said he,  
I'll lose some way, and time, but I will see;  
Thou canst not sure the dreadful Lion be.   

Thus saying, he advanced, the Ass did know  
This was a dangerous foe,  
Should he go less than what he seemed, and fly,  
He would a scorn to his new Subjects grow;  
When thus he said, I'll keep up Majesty,  
And courage show,  
Then to his Master loud he thus began;  
What ere thou art, fly hence presumptuous Man,  
Else thou art dead, and at him fiercely ran.   

Then sudden fear the Tanner did surprise,  
But when his ears he spies,  
He stands, and by them Prisoner took the Ass,  
And wondering at his Royal weeds, replies;  
Among these Foresters thou well mightst pass,  
Who have no better eyes  
For the great Lion, and possess a throne  
In Groves where Asses are no better known,  
But you my Ass are, and I seize my own.   

MORAL.  
The Tailor makes the man, Breeding and Coin,  
Of them pass by, as those ride over a mine,  
Are unregarded: great Impostors so  
In Royal habits oft for Princes go.    


71  THE seventy FIRST FABLE. Of the Wolf and the Sow.  

A War- Wolf mangy with an entailed itch,  
Sympling Compressed a Callidonian Witch:  
She, near her time, with others did embark  
In a tied Eggshell; safe as in the Ark  
Mountains they ride to Southern Kingdoms rolled,  
While Northwinds loud from sixteen angles scowl.  
Then, landing safe, they mount fantastic Foales,  
And bent their course to Cocker up their souls  
With  Wine. Down in a sacred vault  
Where never came the impious race of malt,  
Where sweet Lyaeus no small hoops contain,  
The Hags descend, in Thunder, Wind, and Rain.  
Heightend with Bacchus' blood, and Biscuit Sops,  
Frolic, they throw Spigots o'er houses tops,  
Black, and red Seas, mix with the Mediterrane,  
While they in Purple Must their ankles slain.  
Then hoytie-toytie, frantic Bacchanals  
Begin to revel: When the Spirit calls,  
Aboard, aboard, the Chariot of the dawn  
Rattles on Eastern hills; Their Cobweb lawn  
Streight is unfurld, all you're, and tied, they sail  
Back, whilst Seas, Seas, charge with an adverse gale.   

But here the dame pregnant with Wolvish seed  
Delivered was, but when they saw the Breed  
A rough she- Wolf, straight inconcocted grapes  
Began to work, nine, and no little 'scapes  
Nine Hags discharge at once, and th' Infant bore  
To Arden's Forest, far off from the shore  
A pitying Wolf took up, and nursed the child,  
And from her wondrous fortune Erswind styled.  
She married Isgrim, and if fame be true,  
Him, a she- Wolf, bore to a wand'ring Jew,  
Who by his humane nature got the hint  
Of Wolvish discipline in Geneva Print,  
And his mad zeal first made the Forest blaze;  
This by his howling Rhetoric did raise  
Arms 'gainst his King, did ancient right supplant,  
And made Beasts take a beastly Covenant;  
This Urchins called, and stirred up senseless Moles,  
And innocent Sheep inspired with Woolvish souls;  
Then Females, like milch Tigers, first were seen  
To rage against the Lioness, their Queen;  
Steers, Colts, and Asses, did like Panther's stare,  
And Bulls hornmad for Reformation were.   

When Erswind with a blessed Offspring big,  
Weary with Lamb, and Mutton, longed for Pig,  
And thus She howld to move her surly Mate;  
Swine's flesh I loathe with a Maternal hate,  
Yet for the Offspring of the Savage Boar,  
The fat Priest's Quarter which I keep in store,  
Which at my lying in I meant should feast  
My Mother, and her Calydonian guest,  
Now I would give to see one Pig departed  
To eat the Liver and the bleeding Heart.   

When the grim sire replied, Leave off complaints,  
Afflictions have been wholesome to the Saints:  
But if the Boar her Husband be abroad.  
My mortal Foe, by force or pious fraud  
I'll get thee one, no scruple is in meat,  
And thou and I abundantly will eat.   

This said, he hasts unto the spreading Oak,  
Where lay a pregnant Sow, and kindly spoke,  
Sister, your Husband hath great service done,  
And by his valour we the victory won;  
But since I hear your Spouse in Countries far,  
Must for small pay attend a linger War,  
And this your charge is great, take friendly helps:  
Some of your Sons I'll foster with my Whelps,  
Not in prophaner Arts, like Popish Pigs,  
To pettietoe-it on the Organs Jigs,  
When Surpliced Asses chant it to the Lyre;  
Nor they supine shall wallow in the Mire;  
But Pastors be, and them I'll teach to keep  
The Sheepish souls of flocks, and shear the Sheep.  
They have Prick-ears, and as we Teachers wear,  
Howling in hollow trees, such is their Hair.   

The Brawny Dame did here break off all speech,  
If you are such a friend, Sir, I beseech  
You'll show it in your absence, nothing more  
Can me and mine oblige, back twenty score,  
That is the greatest favour you can do,  
You hate all Swine, and I abhor a Jew.  
I hear him whet his tusk, the Boar is near,  
And you have taken a wrong Sow by th' ear.  
Cowering his tail, endeavouring to have fled,  
Wings fear not added to his feet, but Led;  
Whom suddenly the angry Boar oretook:  
Him, at whose rage the Lion's party shook,  
No more resistance than a tender Lamb,  
Made 'gainst this foe, whom straight he overcame;  
And with his phang a Window in his side  
To Flank from Shoulder rend, where, as he died,  
The deep Hypocrisy and bloody ends,  
Writ in his heart, were read by foes and friends.  
Soon after that the Boar the Wood enjoyed,  
And Wolves as new Malignants be destroyed.   

MORAL.  
Mischiefs best Plots Women too oft have laid,  
And tender Females soon are betrayed.  
Some great Seducers make a timely end,  
But oftener they in bloody sheets descend.    


72  THE seventy SECOND FABLE. Of the She Goat and Kid.  

A She- Goat Widowed by Civil War,  
(As many other woeful Matrons are)  
Although her sequestration a small fine  
Had taken off,  
Had little cause to laugh,  
For when she risen, she knew not where to dine,  
Which made cold cups be Seasoned oft with brine.  
One Son she had, now Heir,  
Just of his Father's Hair,  
Her comfort, and her care;  
But what did most extol this gentle Kid,  
He did  
All the Commands which his dear Mother bid.   

When to her only hope the Parent said,  
I go dear Child (subsistence must be had)  
Where I for thee will crop the tender Bud,  
And search the ground,  
For Moon-wort, rarely found;  
Which from our wounds draws steel, & stops the blood,  
A Sovereign Medicine and a dainty food.  
But Kid when I am gone,  
Open the Gate to none,  
To friend, nor foe, not one.  
The Wolf, although the Boar hath brought him low,  
I know,  
His Nature keeps, and will no mercy show.   

Shall I forget how he thy father slew  
When from the Cambrian Hills a Goatish Crew  
Of British Long-beards with three Sons he lead?  
He pierced his throat,  
And drunk his best blood hot,  
Then on his Bowels, and his Liver fed.  
As ill, woes me, thy hapless brethren sped,  
When down their arms they threw,  
Quarter being granted too,  
Most barbarously he slew,  
And in his Den their Limbs in pieces tore;  
Nay more,  
With their gnawn bones he paved his bloody flore.   

This said, away she speeds. The Wolf, who long  
Had watch his time, skilled in the Goatish tongue,  
On's loins the British Captains spoils did gird,  
With his fair horns  
His horrid Brow adorns,  
Down from his Chin hung a long silver Beard,  
As if the King and Father of the Herd.  
Accoutred thus before,  
At the dull Goatheards' door  
He oft drank Kiddish gore;  
When thus disguised with feigned voice he spoke,  
Unlock,  
Longbeard is here, the Father of the Flock.   

I live, whom Fame reported dead, and bring  
Good tidings, never better was the King.  
The Lion now is forty thousand strong,  
Enumerous swarms,  
Both old, and young, take arms,  
And he will thunder at their Gates ere long,  
Changing their triumph to a doleful Song.  
And now the Conquering Boar,  
Of those subued before,  
Doth speedy aid implore,  
But the dissenting Brethren in one Fate,  
Too late,  
Shall rue they turned this Forest to a State.   

Whom Pan, his Parents, and his King obeyed,  
Duty, Belief, and Piety betrayed,  
And bolted doors he suddenly unbars:  
The Wolf rushed in,  
Throwing off his borrowed Skin,  
His eyes with rage blazing like ominous Stars,  
Which threaten Earth with Famine, Plague, and Wars:  
Then on the expected prize,  
With open mouth he flies,  
His jaws sweet purple dies.  
When thus th' Insulter did the Kid upbraid,  
And said,  
Let all thus perish wish the Lion aid.   

MORAL.  
First, God's commands, your Parents next obey;  
A thousand Snares, Pride, Lust, and Avarice lay:  
But other arts now taught in modern Schools,  
Style all our wise and pious Fathers, Fools.    


73  THE seventy THIRD FABLE. Of the Youngman and the Cat.  

GRimmalkins Grandchild, Tyberts' Noble race,  
For Beauty gave no Cattish Damsel place,  
Round was her face,  
Her Eyes were Grey as Germans, or the Gaul,  
The Stars that fall  
Through gloomy shade, cast no such dazzling light:  
Nor Gloeworms that most glorious are by night;  
Her Bosom soft and white  
Like down of Silver Swans, her Head was small,  
And round as any Ball,  
Daily she wore a party-collourd gown,  
Curiously mixed, with white; black, grey, and brown.   

Stolen from her Mother's Teat, a young man bred  
This Female up, and laid her in his Bed;  
Each Morning fed,  
And Evening, with warm stroke from the Cow,  
Would Fish allow,  
But not to wet her tender feet afford,  
She may in pleasant Gardens catch a Bird,  
Or make afeard.  
Scorched with Love's cruel flames this Youth did now  
At Venus' altars bow,  
That She, his Love would change into a Maid,  
When thus with reard-up hands to Heaven he prayed.   

O Cytherea, since the cruel Dart  
Of thy dear Son, hath strangely pierced my heart,  
Some aid impart;  
Thou at the prayers of sad Pygmalion  
Mad'st flesh of stone,  
Formed a soft Woman from obdurate Flint:  
That had no Soul, this hath a Spirit in't,  
This hath her passions, hath affection shown,  
And loves or me, or none.  
Make her for Marriage fit, and She and I  
Will day and night adore thy Deity.   

The Goddess heard, first on her Hairy face  
Did Lillys of untainted beauty place,  
Which Roses grace;  
And now her Grey eyes sparkle more by day;  
A Milky way  
'Twixt Hills of Snow, which Coral Fountains shows,  
And her clear Neck like silver dawn arose,  
Her white Foot grows  
Now a fair Palm, whence fingers long display,  
Where azure Rivers stray:  
A Virgin than appeared, so fair, and sweet,  
She seemed a Heaven all ore, from Head to Feet.   

Nor could the ravished Youth admire too much,  
Nor could believe, till by enduring touch  
He found her such,  
But when she spoke, sweet Love was in his Breast  
With joy oppressed,  
And loud he cries; Come all my friends, and see  
The Gods great gift, what Heaven hath done for me,  
I shall too happy be.  
Bring Silk and Gold, with Gems let her be dressed,  
Prepare the Marriage Feast:  
All came, and wonder, Woman ens envious eye,  
Survaying her, could not one blemish spy.   

All rites performed, and Hymen's torch put out,  
Who of the joys of Marriage Bed could doubt,  
Or fear a flout?  
The Cyprian Goddess then, desired to find  
If that her mind  
Was with her form improved; a little Mouse  
Straight she presents on th' Evins of the House:  
The Bride leaps from her Spouse,  
And leaves the Young man to embrace the Wind,  
The Cat will after kind;  
Just when he thought to reap the joy of joys,  
A Mouse she cries, and all his hope destroys.   

When Venus thus, highly incensed, stormed:  
A hateful Cat to a Virgin we transformed,  
But the deformed,  
And Bestial thoughts still in her Breast remain,  
The task was vain,  
No power can stave off Nature, though our Art  
Gave fair dimensions to the Outward part,  
We could not change the Heart.  
Here she transformed her to a Cat again;  
Then did the Youth complain,  
Thy pity Venus thou hast turned to spite,  
Wouldst thou not let me have her one short night?   

MORAL.  
No punishment, no penalty, nor hire,  
Can repulse Nature led by strong Desire.  
So barbarous people Civilised with care,  
The least occasion turns to what they were.    


74  THE seventy FOURTH FABLE. Of the Cat and the Cock.  

SHe that so lately was the Young man's Spouse,  
And left the joys of Marriage Bed to Mouse,  
Now conscious of her crime, and hooted at  
By all the House,  
Grew more and more a Cat:  
And after that  
By day she haunts sad Rocks, and shady Groves,  
When dark, through Gutters o'er House tops she roves,  
And seeks nightwalking Loves,  
Who couple not like Doves;  
Where round about her Cattish youngsters throng,  
(For she was fair) and with a hideous Song,  
A dismal note and long,  
The haughty Rivals challenge, meet, and fight;  
And terrify the silence of the night.   

'Mongst these she proves: her Pregnant woomb being laid,  
The ravenous Beast in neighbouring Houses preyed,  
That Milky Breasts her tender young might breed:  
Once thus she strayed  
And not supplied her need,  
Nurses must feed.  
When thus she spoke, Each Passage, Dore, and Lock,  
In my Lord's House I know: there dwells a Cock  
Chief of a feathered Flock,  
Which once my hopes did mock,  
But now he shall not scape: hark how he Crows,  
What, boasts thou fool ere thou subdu'st thy foes!  
This said, on straight she goes,  
Through ways unknown, and mischievously bend,  
Down boldly leaps, and seized the Innocent.   

With her sad Prisoners Pusse was used to play,  
Though he must die, she'll do't by Legal way,  
And thus attainders formally began:  
Thou before day  
Awakenest drowsy man;  
Who Curse and Ban,  
Vexed with thy minstralcies unwelcome airs,  
At such a time, when Heaven should hear their prayers  
To prosper them and theirs.  
This said, the Cock declares,  
I am the Husbandman's Alarm, and Watch,  
Those Sons of toil, that live in Smoak and Thatch,  
Raised by my voice, dispatch  
(Buckling on Leather, Frieze, and clouted shoes)  
A long days labour, often before Noon.   

Then said the Cat, is thy impiety  
(O wicked Bird) and incest hid from me?  
Thou hast against all Laws of Men, and God,  
Which I did see,  
Thy Virgin Daughter trod;  
Nay thy hot blood,  
Thy Sister, Mother, Grandam, did not spare.  
Then he replied, thy last charge less I fear,  
Since 'tis my Master's care,  
For him and for his fair  
Lady, I should get Eggs, who now is Wed.  
Shalt thou a Strumpet feed enjoys the Bed  
From whence I'm banished?  
Accumulative crimes have no retreat,  
'Tis Treason, thou shalt die, and I must eat,  
Said angry Puss, and sharpset with a Groul,  
She eats his flesh, and drinks in blood his Soul.   

MORAL.  
When Tyrants would their empty Coffers fill,  
Against some wealthy Peer, they draw a Bill:  
The tryal's fair, Charge, Answer, and Reply,  
But riches is your crime, and you must die.    


75  THE seventy FIFTH FABLE. Of the Cat and the Mice.  

ANd now our Cat which once had been a Wife,  
The Iron tooth of time  
Had altered from her prime,  
Old, she with Nuns lead a Monastic life,  
Free from rough Lovers, and proud Rival's strife.   

And with those pious Virgins went to prayer,  
Who while they number Beads,  
About them softly treads,  
Disturbing none that at devotion were,  
Contented with long Fasts, and Lenten Fare.   

Settled for Strength, Convenience, and Health,  
Near to the Larder Dore,  
Some Miceaus had a poor  
Plantation raised from Sacrilege, and Stealth,  
Almost from nothing, to a Commonwealth.   

These Hogen Mogens, when their cruel Foe  
The Cat they heard drew near,  
Were struck with mighty fear,  
And at the tidings straight to Counsel go;  
Till then these People knew no face of woe.   

When some informed, and they of no mean place,  
They Tyberts issue saw,  
Her countenance struck no awe,  
But full of meekness, heavy was her pace,  
And sadness much dejected had her face.   

They saw how oft She contemplating sat,  
Nor in that holy House,  
They thought, she'll touch a Mouse;  
Nor view with jealous eye their rising State,  
This was a Saint, a most Religious Cat.   

When they this Character had understood,  
Commissioners they chose,  
(No time they careful lose)  
That should bear gifts, and kiss great Pusses hand,  
And Leagues confirming lasting peace demand.   

Soon they admitted were, and Audience had;  
The subtle Cat in State  
Herd what they could relate  
With mild aspect, her visage pale, and sad;  
And thus to them a friendly answer made.   

Bold Miceans know (if ne'er you heard the same)  
I have been once a Wife,  
Seeking one Miceans life,  
I was transformed to what you see I am,  
For which bold crime to penance here I came.   

Your Suit we grant: but as our custom, nine  
Potentates I invite  
To Sup with me this night,  
So intimate; but you with us shall dine.  
Then in their presence lasting Peace I'll sign.   

This known, nine chosen march through narrow Ports,  
And winding passes forth,  
With many Mice of worth:  
There the fond vulgar in great troops resorts,  
Expecting Banquets in the Cattish Courts.   

No sooner in, but stern Pusse shuts the Door,  
Stops all the chinks and holes;  
Then terror strikes their souls:  
And to a Fury she's transformed once more;  
Best strews the room with mangled limbs, and gore.   

Which to the Senate a new lesson reads,  
Fair words, and simpering looks,  
Are still deceivers hooks:  
None that is wise, outward comportment heeds;  
Mortals their face declares not, but their deeds.   

MORAL.  
Treaties are full of fraud; if rising States  
Would join with Princes, and make Kings their mates,  
Let them beware how they confirm the League,  
Monarches still jealous for small cause Reneage.    


76  THE seventy SIXTH FABLE. Of the Fox and the Lyon.  

OH all you Gods and Goddesses that dwell  
In Heaven & Earth, in Heaven, Earth, Sea, & Hell▪  
If all your power conjoined can one protect,  
Save the poor Fox,  
Nor prayer reject.  
What is it I behold?  
His shaggy locks  
Are pressed with shining Gold.  
It is the Lion; See! his spreading Robe  
Covers at least half the terrestrial Globe:  
Terror of Beasts and Man,  
Whose hard teeth can  
Crack brazen bones of the Leviathan.  
Help, help, if me he not in pieces tears,  
I shall in sunder shake with my own fears.   

At first the Fox thus trembled to behold  
The Sceptered Lion, Armed and Crowned with Gold.  
But when the King the second time he saw  
Hunting in green,  
Not so much awe  
Did in his looks appear,  
Less Majesty in's Mein,  
Then Reynard drew more near;  
But the third day the bold beast had the face  
To come up close, and cried Jove save your grace.  
At last so near did stand,  
He kissed his hand,  
Soon after did the Royal ear command,  
In which he said Custom makes mortals bold  
To play with that they durst not once behold.   

MORAL.  
Who hate to draw a Sword, and Guns abhor,  
Custom hath made most valiant Men-of-War.  
Love's Novice so, trembling, fresh beauty storms,  
Which soon lies ruffled in his conquering arms.    


77  THE seventy SEVENTH FABLE. Of the Lark and her Young.  

IT is the sweet and early chanting Lark,  
That to the Heavenly Choristers is Clerk,  
And mounts the Sky as freely as a spark;  
Yet she in haughty Towers not builds her Nest,  
Nor on the tops of lofty Cedars dwells,  
Which are with all the roaring winds oppressed,  
That Northern witches conjure up with spells;  
But in Corn Fields her habitations found,  
Flanked round with earth, six inches under ground.   

From whence she issuing to her young ones spoke;  
Notice be sure of what you hear to take,  
And strict acoount at my returning make.  
When thus the Landlord to his Heir begun;  
This Wheat is ripe, we must have down this Corn;  
Go, and invite my friends with rising Sun  
To reap it, and at night it shall be Born.  
At this sad news the Larks astonished were,  
And told their Mother, struck with mighty fear.   

Then said th' old Bird; If for his friends he look,  
(He may be, but I shall not be mistake.)  
This Corn, need fear no danger of the hook.  
Giving like charge, out the next morn she flies,  
While th' old-Man long, did friends in vain expect,  
At last he said, grown with experience wise,  
Son, call our Kindred, since our friends neglect,  
Those from our own loins sprung will not forget,  
That we to morrow may cut down this Wheat.   

Th' affrighted Birds this to their Mother told,  
Who cheered them thus, Kindred too oft prove cold;  
This Corn will stand, and we shall keep our Hold.  
The second morn made bright the Hemisphere,  
When of the Consanguineous none were seen;  
Then said the Father to the Son, I fear  
We shall not be beholding to our kin;  
Stand to me Boy, to morrow thou and I  
Will reap this Corn, Cousins and Friends defy.   

With these, the Birds their Mother did acquaint,  
When with a sigh she said, We time shall want,  
For we to morrow must new regions plant.  
They that with care to their own business look,  
Are in the readiest way to have it done,  
But who shall trust to Friends or Kindred's hook,  
Shall find it at a stand, or backward run:  
As when the arm against the stream is slack,  
The Boat in the swift Channel hurries back.   

MORAL.  
Intelligence best moves affairs, by which,  
Both Kings and Commonwealths grow great and rich.  
But who their business would have followed, must,  
More to themselves than any other trust.    


78  THE seventy EIGHTH FABLE. Of the Hawk and the Nightingale.  

WHen the triumphant Sun, in his Caroche,  
Cut from an entire Topaz, made approach  
To the great tract betwixt the Golden horns  
Of the Celestial Bull;  
When the Ambrosian tresses of fair morns,  
With liquid Pearl were full;  
Then Philomela did from her Nest departed,  
With a sad Omen, and a heavy heart,  
To try neglected Art;  
By the Grove side she on a Haw-thorne bough,  
Sung her first Song, and paid her yearly vow:  
Lovers that heard her, ere the Cuckoos voice,  
Rejoice,  
Since Valentine chose, but she confirms the choice.   

While thus she chants, a sharp thorn at her breast,  
A prying Swain who late had found her Nest,  
Came secretly, and in her absence stole  
From thence the Callow young;  
A freshs' wound anguish in a wounded Soul  
What Pen can say or Tongue?  
He to his City Landlord bears the prize,  
But she sends loud Complaints to Marble Skies,  
And moves the Deities:  
Which (as relentless as their Statues, were)  
A Bird of War pickeering through the air,  
A fierce Hawk sent, who while she did in vain Complain,  
Seized, and poor Philomela must now be slain.   

Though great her woe was, and she much did grieve,  
Yet at Pale deaths approach she fain would live,  
And from the proud Foe thus begs quarter then;  
This little body spare,  
What is to thee a Nightingale or Wren,  
A Mouthful but of air?  
Take some large Bird, and Fat, on whom is Meat;  
Behold on every Tree, and Bush they seat,  
And spare me I entreat.  
With frowning look, the Falcon than replies,  
Thus Counsel Daws, no Hawk is so unwise,  
When in their pounces they have seized a prey,  
That they,  
Let it in hope of better, fly away.   

MORAL.  
A small Estate and sure, is better far,  
Than fortunes that in expectations are:  
What we possess we have, fancy may feed  
The mind, but not supply the present need.    


79  THE seventy NINTH FABLE. Of the Husbandman and the Stork.  

THere was a greedy Villager took pain  
To Blow deep wrinkles on a Virgin plain,  
Where his strong Steers broke such obdurate glebes,  
As might have danced into the Walls of Thebes  
Instead of stones,  
Harder than Pyrrha's moistened Mothers bones.  
This Swain while he did whet his blunted Share,  
Often to Ceres, and Superior Gods,  
Did make no idle prayer,  
To recompense his care,  
And fruitful render hard and barren clods.  
They heard, and nursed his hope with timely rain,  
That now black grounds did shine with golden Grain.   

When a fierce troop of Plundering Cranes he spies,  
And wicked Geese to cut the Crystal Skies,  
Called in by those domestic Geese he fed  
In his own Barn, with what should make him Bread.  
His Gander thus  
He heard declare; Welcome dear friends to us;  
Our spiteful Master, if he see us look  
But o'er the hedge, with threatening voice will call:  
Who can the injury brook?  
Come let's deprive the Hook.  
This said, th' whole Army on the Field did fall.  
Plots meet with Counterplots, strong Gins were set,  
Which took both Foes, and Traitors in a Net.   

'Mongst whom he found a Stork, who to the Swain  
Thus pleaded innocence; I am no Crane,  
Nor impious Goose, nor have I touched your Corn,  
But the best Bird am I on wings is born;  
'Tis I that feed  
My Parents spent with age, and in their need  
Bear like the Trojan Hero on my back;  
The Pelican, that feasts with her own blood  
Her young when meat they lack,  
Compared to me is black;  
Who will not spend their lives to save their Brood?  
Great Love descends; to Age who gives respect?  
Children, and Friends, Parents grown old neglect.   

Then said the Swain; Your boasting will not serve;  
You found with these shall find what they deserve,  
And with these cursed Malefactors die,  
Though as you say you are the best that fly;  
Your wicked troop  
Would all my Harvest hopes have eaten up:  
Wert thou the Phoenix, though we lost the race,  
A Cherubin, or Bird of Paradise,  
Expect from me no grace;  
Now thou shalt suffer in this place:  
You tell your Virtues, Bird, but not your Vice.  
To your own Parents you obedient are,  
But not for Kings (our Common Fathers) care.   

MORAL.  
What crimes commit we, or what gross abuse,  
That is not palliated by excuse?  
Who says he's Guilty? these Bad company load,  
The Devil this, and that lays all on God.    


80  THE EIGHTIETH FABLE. Of the Eagle and the Crow.  

THe Plumed King spreading his feathered sail,  
Down through the clouds like a black tempest stoops,  
Passing through Quarters of Wind, Rain, and Hail,  
He seized a Lamb among the bleating Troops;  
While the Dog's bark, and the old Shepherds rail,  
That he a King should pray on harmless Beasts,  
He flies to cruel Nests,  
And bears the prey to Courts nine steeples high:  
Then wondrous, Blood & Wool rain from the sky.   

A foolish Crow, viewing this gallant Flight  
The Eagle made down from the arched Skies,  
Swelled with opinion, soars a mighty height,  
To rob the flock of such another prize:  
Thence on a youngling did with fury light,  
And Knee deep strikes himself in Silver Wool,  
That thence he could not pull  
His tangled feet, with Art, nor Force, again,  
But yields himself then Prisoner to a Swain.   

Who gave him to the Boys, they clip his Wing,  
And 'mongst the Flocks would with their Captive play,  
Taught him new notes, another Song to sing,  
And when men asked what Bird he was, to say  
He thought he was an Eagle, and a King:  
But to his grief he now too well did know  
He is a foolish Crow,  
Who 'bove his power great things attempting, fell  
A sport to Boys, as merciless as Hell.   

MORAL.  
All imitate, or imitated are:  
A shriveld Dwarf hath managed in War  
A mighty Steed, and boldly charged the foe,  
Shooting through loopholes in the saddle bow.    


81  THE EIGHTY FIRST FABLE. Of the Dog and the Sheep.  

ROugh with a trundle tail, a Prick-eared Cur,  
That had nine Warrens of starved Fleas in's Fur,  
On whom was manginess entailed, and itch,  
From his Sire Isgrim, and a Cat-eyed Bitch;  
With these endowments Rich,  
And some bold vices now we virtues call,  
He brought to th' Judgement Hall  
His accusation 'gainst a guiltless Sheep,  
That he the staff of life from him did keep,  
A Loaf he lent him of the purest Wheat,  
And at the high Tribunal seat  
At once he charged, and at once claims the debt.   

The Sheep denies that ere he had to do  
With this strange Dog, that no good Shepherd knew;  
Since he no Bond could prove, desired release;  
Then bawls the Cur, Behold my Witnesses,  
Let them the truth confess;  
The Vulture, Fox, and Squint-eyed Kite appear,  
Whom God nor Conscience fear,  
To whom he promised equal shares before,  
For which (as they instructed were) they swore  
They saw when he delivered him the Bread,  
Refusing bond; and kindly said,  
Without such things, Brethren should Brethren aid.   

The Beasts had savage Laws, Who could not pay,  
Convicted at the Cred'tors' mercy lay;  
Such was the poor Sheep's case, none could exhort  
The Dog to save the honour of the Court,  
Since cruelty was his sport,  
But at the Sheep with open mouth he flew,  
And in th' whole benches view,  
Sucks his warm Blood, and eats his panting Heart,  
And to each Witness quarters out their part;  
When one did say, Thus innocence we see,  
Was never yet from danger free;  
As th' Evidence, so must the Sentence be.   

MORAL.  
While Oaths and Evidence shall bear the cause,  
Men of small Conscience little fear the Laws.  
What Trade are you? a Witness Sir; Draw near,  
there's Coin, go swear, what I would have you swear.    
FINIS.