Chapter II: Part 2

It happen'd that some Years ago,
The Lyon had a Mind to know,
What beastly Nations up and down
Belong'd to his Imperial Crown:
And therefore in his Princely care
Sends word by Letters every where,
That he would keep an open Court,
Grace it with every Royal Sport;
And so invites 'em to his Palace,
A Cave that stunk worse than the Gallows.
The Bear snorts at it, snuffles, blows,
Draws hundred Wrinkles in his Nose.
What need the Fool to have made such Faces?
The Lyon frown'd at his Grimaces,
And for the Niceness of his Smell
My Gentleman is sent to Hell.
The Monky fam'd for flattery
Extalls this Action to the Sky,
Then prais'd the King's majestick Face,
The stately building of the Place,
The Smell, whose Fragrancy so far
Exceeds all other Scents that are,
That there's no Amber, said the Sot,
But what's a house of Office to't.
This gross insipid stuff the Prince }
Dislikes and calls it Impudence, }
To speak so contrary to Sence. }
And as the one was thought too free,
So th' other dy'd for Flattery.
This Lyon had the reputation
To be _Caligula's_ Relation.
The Fox being near; the peevish King
Ask'd his Opinion of the thing.
Tell me what smell it is, be bold,
Sir, says the Fox, I've got a Cold.
If you would have your Answers please
Great Men make use of such as these.
Bluntness and bare-faced Flattery
Can never with the Court agree.

_The Drunkard and his Wife._

Man is so obstinate a Creature
No Remedy can change his Nature.
Fear, Shame, all ineffectual prove
To cure us from the Vice we love.
A Drunkard, that had spent his Wealth,
And by the Wine impar'd his Health,
One Night was very Drunk brought home;
His Wife conveys him to a Tomb;
Undresses him from Head to Feet,
And wraps him in a Winding-sheet:
He wakes, and finds he's not a Bed,
All over dress'd like one that's dead:
Besides, she counterfeits her Voice,
With Torch in hand, and grunting Noise,
Looks frightful in a strange Array,
To pass for Dame _Ctesiphone_.
And every thing is done so well,
He thinks he's fairly gone to Hell;
And satisfy'd it was his Merit,
He says to his dissembling Spirit,
Who are you in the Name of Evil?
She answers hoarsely I'm a Devil,
That carries Victuals to the Damn'd,
By me they are with Brimstone cramm'd.
What, says the Husband, do you think
Never to bring them any Drink?

_The Carp._

A Handsome Carp genteely bred,
In fresh and running Water fed,
Puff'd up with Pride and Vanity,
Forsook the _Thames_ and went to Sea;
Thro' Shrimps and Prawns he cuts his way,
Sees Cods and Haddocks frisk and play;
He ask'd some questions, but in vain,
All spoke the Language of the Main;
He frets he can't be understood,
When, at the latter end of Flood,
Two Herrings vers'd in Languages
Were talking about Business;
Carp heard 'em, as he swum along,
Discoursing in his River Tongue,
And made a stop, they did the same,
One of the Herrings ask'd his Name,
And whence he came; the Traveller
Reply'd, I am a Stranger, Sir,
Come for my Pleasure to these Parts
To learn your Manners and your Arts:
Then Herring asks what News of late?
Which are your Ministers of State?
Indeed, said Carp, he could not tell,
Nor did much care, quoth Herring well
What Laws, what Form of Government?
Are Taxes rais'd, without consent
Of Parliament? what Courts of? Pish,
Says th' other, I'm a gentle Fish,
And we know nothing of those Matters;
Quoth Herring, I'm no Fish that flatters,
I find you've neither seen nor read,
And wonder you should break your Head,
With what's in other Countries done,
That knows so little of your own.
At this the haughty Fool takes snuff,
Turns from 'em in a mighty huff;
And whilst he slides and flourishes
He meets a Country Fish of his,
One us'd to Sea, a subtle Spark,
A Pike that serv'd his time t' a Shark;
Who leads him into Company
Of Riot and Debauchery;
The scandalous Gang in little time
Infect him with the Salt, and Slime:
They robb'd his Row, till scurvily
At last he's forc'd to leave the Sea.
His Scales begin to drop by scores,
And all his Body's full of Sores.
Half of his Tail, and Snout are gone,
And he, lean, shabby and undone,
Sneaks home as vain and ignorant,
As e'er he was before he went.

The Moral.

_Some Fops that visit_ France _and_ Rome,
_Before they know what's done at home,
Look like our Carp when come again.
Strange Countries may improve a Man,
That knew the World before he went;
But he, that sets out ignorant,
Whom only Vanity intices,
Brings Nothing from 'em, but their Vices._

_The Nightingale and Owl._

The Bird of _Jove_, who was all Day,
As much intent upon his Prey,
As any Prince in Christendom,
Was not well pleased, that coming home,
He always found his Folks a Bed,
(Sure Courtiers should be better bred.)
For, as Crown'd Heads have much to think,
Some Nights he could not sleep a wink;
And thought it hard to have ne'er a Bird
In all his Court could speak a Word,
Or snuff a Candle, hundred things,
That are of use to waking Kings.
Some Birds strove hard, did what they could;
Yet when 't grew dark, slept as they stood.
Others pretended that they watch'd,
And swore and ly'd till they were catch'd.
The King would not be put upon:
Asks all his Court what's to be done?
One talks no wiser than a Horse,
Another makes it ten times worse,
The Ostrich said, It's plain to me,
We sleep because we cannot see;
Ask _Jupiter_, he can't deny't,
To let it when 'tis dark be light----
At that all stopt his Speech a laughing,
Except the King, who fell a coughing.
Says one more learned than the rest,
I'm for a Crane with stone in Fist;
If he should sleep it must be known,
For presently he'll drop the stone.
But as the Watchmen were to be
In the upper Garret of the Tree,
The King for weighty Reasons said,
He'd have no Stones held o'er his Head,
Then cries the Swan, and he was right,
If one pretends to watch all Night.
He cannot do a better thing,
To make us believe it than to sing.
His Majesty approves of it,
And Letters presently are writ;
By which the Airy Prince invites
All Birds to Court, that sung a Nights;
But most of 'em look on the same
As things of no concern to them.
Yet some that had Ambition
Would very willingly have gone,
But since they could not watch in short,
And might perhaps be punish'd for't,
At best they could propose no Gains.
But t' have their Labour for their Pains.
Only the Nightingale, whose Art
Man knows, had fill'd his little Heart
With so much Joy, he's more than glad,
And almost ready to run mad;
Calls on all Birds and shakes his Wings,
Tells them how every Night he sings;
(A thing, which they knew nothing of,
For by that time they're fast enough.)
Says he it hits so luckily,
As if it was contriv'd for me,
What cause to doubt of being chose,
When there's not one that can oppose.
His Friend the Black-bird says, if so, }
Make haste to Court; why don't you go? }
The haughty Bird cries truly No, }
Glory's a thing I never went for,
Nor shall go now unless I am sent for.
At last the King by Mistress Fame,
'S acquainted with his Skill and Name,
And hearing of his Stateliness
Sends half a dozen Deputies;
Who, when they're come, are forced to wait:
The Bird makes every thing look great;
He humbly thanks his Majesty;
But could not leave his Family.
They still persuade and press him hard,
He need not doubt of a great Reward.
And as the Nightingale delays,
And banters 'em for several Days;
A Magpye in the Field at play
Heard how he made the Courtiers stay,
Goes home and there relates the Story,
The Message, and the Bird's Vain glory,
T' an Owl, who from his Infancy
Had liv'd in the same Family;
And adds, why don't you take a Flight?
I've often heard you sing at Night;
When wak'd by our unlucky Boys.
Says the Owl, I know I have no Voice
As well as you: But if you hear me,
Young Jackanaps you need not jeer me.
By _George_, says Mag, I'm not in jest,
What though the Nightingale sings best,
He is so proud, takes so much state,
A thing I know all Princes hate,
That if y'are there before the other,
Who wants such Courtship, keeps such pother,
I don't know but your solemn Face,
And modest Mein may get the place.
I'll go my self for Company: }
And Mag discoursed so winingly, }
The Match is made away they fly. }
The King by this time thought it long
To stay for a Nocturnal Song
When Master Magpy, and his Friend,
Were just come to their Journy's end.
They told their Business modestly,
And are lodg'd on the Royal Tree.
The Owl sets up his Note at Night,
At which the Eagle laugh'd out right,
Then went to sleep and two Hours after
He wak'd, and wanted to make Water.
Call'd to his Watch, who presently
Jump'd in, and cry'd Sir, Here am I.
So, tho his Owlship could not sing,
His watchfulness had pleas'd the King.
Next day arrives the Nightingale,
With his Attendance at his Tail.
His Majesty would by no Means }
Admit him to an Audience; }
But sends a stately Bird of Sence, }
Who thus accosted him. Signior,
Whom we so long have waited for;
Since Yesterday a Bird came hither,
As grave as ever wore a Feather,
Who without promise of Reward
Last Night has serv'd upon the Guard,
With him to Morrow Night the King
Has order'd you to watch and sing,
Says Nightingale, what do I care
For Orders? I am free, and swear
My Master-lays shall mix with none,
They make a Consort of their own:
But who has so much vanity,
That dares pretend to sing with me?
And hearing twas th' _Athenian_ Bird,
He star'd and cou'd not speak a Word,
Grew pale, and swell'd, his Wind came short,
And Anger overwhelm'd his Heart.
He foams at Mouth, and raves, and blusters,
And utters all his Words in Clusters.
A King! a Devil, stupid Fowl,
That can compare me to an Owl!
Pray says the Courtier, have a Care,
Consider in what place you are;
But, as the Fool would hear no Reason,
He went, and left him sputt'ring Treason,
Then told what happen'd to the King,
Who said he'd never hear him sing;
The Owl should be kept in his Place,
And th' other punish'd with Disgrace;
He wisely weigh'd one's Complaisance
Against the other's Insolence,
Oppos'd the Humble to the Rude,
And thought the one might do more Good,
With Loyalty and Diligence,
Than th' other with his Skill and Sence.
The Nightingale is kick'd from Court
And serv'd the little Birds for sport;
Till full of Shame and Grief he went,
And curs'd the King and Government.

The Moral.

_Princes can never satisfy
That Worth that rates itself too high.
What Pity it is! some Men of Parts
Should have such haughty stubborn Hearts:
When once they are courted they grow vain:
Ambitious Souls cannot contain
Their Joy, which when they strive to hide,
They cover it with so much Pride,
So Saucy to Superiors,
Impatient of Competitors,
Th' are utterly untractable,
And put off like our Nightingale.
Many with him might have been great,
Promoted Friends, and serv'd the State,
That have beheld, with too much Joy,
The wish'd for Opportunity;
Then slipt it by their own Delays,
Sloth, Pride, or other willful Ways,
And ever after strove in vain
To see the Forelock once again._

_Council held by the Rats._

A Cat, whose Sirname pretty hard was,
One Captain _Felis Rodilardus_
Had made so terrible a slaughter
Among the Rats; that little after
There's hardly one to shew his head,
Most part of 'em were maim'd or dead.
The few that yet had 'scap'd the Grave,
Liv'd in a subterranean Cave,
Where they sat thinking mighty dull,
With Bellies less than quarter full,
Not daring to stir out for fear
Of _Rodilard_, who's ev'ry where.
They tried a hundred ways to sun him:
But finding they could never shun him,
The Wretches look upon him, that
He's more a Devil than a Cat.
Once, when our am'rous Spark was gone
A hunting Wenches up and down,
The poor remainder to improve
The time their Enemy made love,
Assembl'd, and employ'd their Cares
About the straits of their Affairs.
Their President, a Man of Sence,
Told 'em, by long experience;
I know, the Captain used to come
In Ambush without beat of Drum.
Methinks, that if we could but hear him
We need not half so much to fear him:
And therefore, th' only way's to take
A Bell, and tie't about his Neck;
And then let him be ne'er so arch
He'll advertise us of his march.
His Council took, and every one }
Was of the same Opinion; }
Sure nothing better could be done. }
But pray, says one, who is to tie it;
For I desire not to be nigh it.
How! cries another, tie the Bell,
I dare draw all his Teeth as well.
A third, a fourth, all say the same,
And so they parted as they came.

The Moral.

_Thus Cits advise what's to be done,
This way they should attack the Town;
Now here, then there, why don't they come?
So, often in a Coffee-room,
Where prudently they rule the Nation,
I've heard some Men of Reputation
Propose things which they dare as well
Perform, as Rats to tie the Bell._

_The Bat and the two Weasels._

A Purblind Bat a heedless Beast
Ran headlong into a Weasel's Nest,
Who big with Child, and Passionate,
Had long since bore a mortal hate
To Mice; she rises, takes a Knife,
Runs to 'm resolv'd to have his Life,
And says: What Rascal in my House!
O impudence! a'nt you a Mouse?
Confess: Yes, I am sure you are,
Or I'm no Weasel: Have a Care,
No Names, good Lady, says the Bat,
No more a Mouse, than you a Rat.
What, I a Mouse? I scorn the Word;
And thank the Gods that made m' a Bird;
Witness my Wings, they're proof enough;
Long live the Birds, and so came off.
Some two Days after giddy brain
By a mischance, intrudes again
T' another Weasel's, who hates Birds,
She lets him enter, made no Words;
But fairly caught him by his Crupper,
And went to cranch him for her Supper.
In quality of Bird, says he,
Madam, this is an Injury,
Damn all the Birds, I do Protest
You wrong me: Sure y'are but in jest,
What reason I should pass for one?
All Birds have Feathers, I have none.
I am a Mouse long live the Rats,
And _Jupiter_ confound the Cats.

The Moral.

_The Trimmer that will side with none,
Is forc'd to side with ev'ry one;
And with his Comp'ny change his story,
Long live the Whig, long live the Tory._

_The two Bitches._

A Bitch, who hardly had a day
To reckon, knew not where to lay
Her Burthen down: She had no Bed;
Nor any Roof to hide her Head;
Desires a Bitch of the same Pack,
To let her have, for Heaven's sake,
Her House against her Lying-in.
Th' other, who thought it was a Sin,
To baulk a Wretch so near her Labour,
Says, Yes, 'tis at your Service, Neighbour.
She stays the Month out, and above,
And then desires her to remove:
But th' other tells her, there's yet none
Of all my Whelps can walk alone,
Have patience but one Fortnight longer.
I hope by that time they'll be stronger.
She grants it, and when that's about,
Again she asks her to turn out;
Resign her Chamber, and her Bed:
The other shew'd her Teeth, and said,
My Children now are strong enough,
Some of 'em able to stand buff.
W' are free to go, but don't mistake us,
That is to say, if you can make us.

The Moral.

_Whoever lets the Wicked in
Shall hardly get them out again;
What they can keep, they'll ne'er restore,
And by fair Means you'll have no more
Returns from them, than from the Grave,
Therefore he that will lend a Knave,
Must be resolv'd on Law and Force;
If not, he'll bid you take your Course._

_The Sick Lyon and the Fox._

The King of Brutes sent all about,
He was afflicted with the Gout;
And orders ev'ry Species
To visit him by Embassies.
To see his Subject Beasts would be
Some Comfort to him in his Misery:
He swears them faithfully, they shall
Be lodg'd, and treated very well.
Then for a Safeguard, sends forsooth,
Passes against his Claw and Tooth.
His Vassals in obedience come, }
And ev'ry Species sends him some. }
Only the Foxes stay at home; }
Their Reason was, they saw the Print
Of ev'ry beastly Foot, that went:
But found no Marks, by which, 'twas plain,
That any e'er came back again:
And truly that's suspicious,
Says one, poor Folks are timerous.
We know the King would not abuse us;
But yet desire him to excuse us.
As for his Pass we thank him for't,
And believe 'tis good. But in his Court
We know, which way we may go in,
But not, which to come back again.

The Moral.

_Wise Men sometimes Instruction find
In that, which others never mind;
Examining the least of things,
By Deeds, not Words, they judge of Kings;
And never venture on that Coast,
Where once they knew another lost._

_The Satyr and the Passenger._

A Satyr at his Country House,
A dismal Cave, was with his Spouse,
And Brats a going to eat some Broth:
Without a Chair, or Table-Cloath,
On mossy ground they squatted down,
With special Stomachs of their own.
And just as they fell to a main,
Comes one to shelter for the Rain:
The Guest's invited to sit down,
Tho' in the mean time they went on.
He shiver'd, look'd as cold as Death,
And warm'd his Fingers with his Breath,
Says ne'er a Word, takes good Advice,
And stays not till they ask him twice,
Falls to the Porridge, takes a sup;
But being newly taken up,
'Twas hot, he blows it. Says the Satyr,
Whose Palate could bear scalding-water,
Friend, what the Devil are you a doing?
What do you mean by all this blowing?
The Stranger answers, I did blow
At first to warm my hands, and now
I blow again to cool my Broth.
How, says my Landlord, does it both!
Than y'are not like to stay with me,
I hate such juggling Company.
What! Out of the same Mouth to blow
Both hot and cold! Friend, prithee go.
I thank the Gods my Roof contains
None such as you. The Fable means.

The Moral.

_None are more like to do us wrong;
Than those that wear a double Tongue._

_The Lyon in Love._

Before the Reign of Buxom _Dido_,
When Beasts could speak as well as I do;
Lyons and we convers'd together,
And marry'd among one another.
Nay, why not? they have more bravery,
And are of the eldest Family.
One of 'em walking in a Grove,
Met with a Wench, and fell in Love.
Says he, dear Girl, upon my Life,
Y'are handsome, and must be my Wife.
Then sees her Home, and asks her Father,
Th' old Gentleman would have had rather
A Son-in-Law of milder Nature,
And not so terrible a Feature;
He could not give her heartily,
And yet 'twas dangerous to deny.
Besides she lov'd a fierce Gallant,
Says he, they have ask'd my Consent;
If now I make a Noise about it,
Who knows but they may do't without it.
Therefore he us'd a Stratagem
With honey-words to wheedle him.
My Daughter thanks you, Sir, for the honour,
Which you are pleas'd to bestow upon her.
To talk of Joyntures would be rude;
I know what's for my Children's good.
She's wholly yours, and from this hour,
Son, I resign her to your power.
I only wish, because your Bride
Has but a foolish tender Hide,
That when you take her in your Arm,
For fear your Claws might do her harm,
You'd suffer somebody to pare 'em;
And then your Spouse need not to fear 'em.
Your Teeth indeed look fine and strong;
But yet th'are somewhat sharp and long;
If y'had 'em filed an Inch or two,
'T would be no prejudice to you,
And she'd respect you ne'er the less,
Admire the softness of your kiss,
And be more free with you a Bed.
So senceless is a Lover's head:
The Lyon yields, and stupidly
Lets 'em disarm him _Cap-a-pe_.
And so the loving Son-in-Law,
Remaining without Tooth or Claw,
Look'd as defenceless as a Town
With all the Walls and Gates broke down,
With Dogs his complaisance they pay,
To whom he falls an easy Prey.

The Moral.

_Where Love his Tyrany Commences;
There, farewell Prudence, farewell Sences._

_The Angler and the little Carp._

That little Fishes may be greater,
And that, the larger th' are the better
I know; but then, to let em swim,
And all the while to stay for 'em;
Since catching so uncertain is,
I think's a foolish Business.
An Angler patiently a fishing
Employ'd with looking on, and wishing,
Catches at last a little Carp
That's very poor; but being sharp
He thought 'twas something to begin,
Opens his pouch to put him in.
But cries the Prisoner pitiously
Alas, what would you do with me!
Let me grow bigger, throw me in.
Some two Year hence you'll catch m' again;
I'll stay for you, for you may be sure;
Then sell me to some Epicure,
But now I'm such a silly Fish,
A hundred would not make a Dish;
And if they should, when all is done,
There would be only Skin and Bone.
Says the Angler I've a Mind to try you,
And if y' an't fit to Stew, I'll Fry you.
Leave preaching till anon, and then
Discourse your Mattets to the Pan.

The Moral.

I _Chuse_ One is _for_ two May be's,
_One sure for Ten_ Uncertainties.

_The Wolves and the Sheep._

Between the Wolves, and Sheep, the Wars
Had lasted many hundred Years.
The Sheep could never feed in quiet;
But Wolves disturb'd 'em at their Diet:
And truly Wolf is every Day
By Mastiff hunted from his Prey.
The Shepherd often cuts his Throat,
And turns his Skin into a Coat.
But now both Parties are for ease;
And met to agree on terms of Peace.
When in Debates some time was spent,
On each side Hostages are sent:
As such both Nations were to give
What's valued most, the Wolves receive,
The Dogs, of which in Awe they stood;
The Sheep young Wolves of noble Blood:
And thus the Peace is ratify'd,
With Joy proclaim'd on every side.
But in short time the Whelps grew strong,
The sturdy Rogues began to long
For Blood, and Mischief; watch'd a day,
The Shepherds were not in the way,
Then hunt the young ones from their Dames,
And pick'd and cull'd the finest Lambs;
Kill'd and devour'd a Multitude;
The rest they carry'd to a Wood,
Where with the other Wolves they joyn,
Who knew before hand their design.
The Dogs on publick Faith secure
(And pray what ties could be more sure)
Where whilst they slept, and thought no harm,
Throttled before they heard th' alarm.

The Moral.

_Some Nations, fond of slothful Ease,
Trust to deluding Enemies;
And striving to avoid Expence,
Will leave themselves without defence;
But cunning Tyrants call 'em Friends,
No longer than it serves their Ends.
Against a mighty King that is,
Regardless of his Promises,
Proclaim an everlasting War,
Observe his Motions, watch with care;
And never hearken to Peace,
Proffer'd by faithless Enemies._

_The Wasps and Bees._

A Troop of Wasps claims openly
Some Honey Combs without a Tree.
A Regiment of Bees declares, }
The Honey, and the Combs, were theirs, }
And let him touch the Goods that dares; }
They'd shew that they were Bees, and forsooth.
Then says the Wasps, we'll pluck a Crew for't,
An shall not fly for Bees, we scorn it.
However 'tis left to Justice Hornet,
Who could with all his subtle Sence
Make nothing of the Evidence;
In general they depose, 'tis true,
That Insects of a yellow hue,
With Tails containing poysonous Stings,
Long Body'd, buzzing with their Wings,
And all the Signs to paint a Bee,
Had been observ'd about that Tree.
But this could be no proof for them;
For in the Wasps they are the same,
His Lordship, for his Reputation
Heard a whole Ant's Nest's Information.
But being no wiser than before,
At last said he could do no more;
And made a learned Speech to shew 'em:
That this Court could say nothing to 'em:
It must be try'd in Chancery.
Up starts a pert well meaning Bee,
And Says, an't please your Lordship; 'tis
Six Months we left our Business:
And heard of nothing but Vacations,
And Writs of barbarous Appellations;
And all this while, you know we are,
My Lord, but even as we were.
The Honey every Day grows worse,
And greedy Lawyers drain our Purse.
Under submission we've enough
Of all this formal conjuring stuff.
I believe I can inform you better,
Which way you may decide the matter
What signifies our looking on,
And hearing Council pro and con?
Let's go to work and then you'll see,
Which spoke the Truth, the Wasps or we.
If they can make such Combs and fill
With Honey each sexang'lar Cell;
The Cause is theirs, and we'll pay Cost;
If not, I hope they'll yield it lost.
Which when the Wasps refus'd to do
Judge Hornet rose, and said, Oho!
I smoak you, Sirs, and gave the Bees
The Suit, with Costs and Damages.

The Moral.

_Thus would I have all Judges give
Their Judgment. With the_ Turks _I believe,
That common Sence to end a Cause,
Is worth a hundred Common Laws.
They lead us such a way about,
Raise new Disputes, make such a Rout.
Between the Plaintiff and Defendant;
That by the time they make an end on't,
The Suit looks like an Oyster, where
The Fish falls to the Lawyer's Share;
And if the Cause be manag'd well,
Each of the Clients gets a Shell._

_The Lyon and the Gnat._

Away base Insect, that took Birth
From th' Exhalations of the Earth.
Thus spoke the Lyon to the Gnat;
Who answer'd, Bully, Think ye that
I'll bear Affronts? No: And declar'd
A War against him to his Beard;
And told the Hector, void of fear,
You'll find Sir King, how much I care
For all your Titles, Tooth and Claw,
Of which great Loobies stand in awe:
I'll quickly curb your haughtiness,
Damn'd Brute; and hardly utter'd this,
But sounds the Charge (he serv'd for all
For Trumpet and for General.)
He nimbly shifts from Place to Place,
And plays before the Lyon's Face;
The other snaps and strikes the Air;
The Gnat avoids him every where;
He watch'd his time, then seiz'd his Neck,
From thence he mov'd, and stung his Back,
There fasten'd, made his Kingship mad,
His Eyes sparkle in his Head;
He foams and roars, and all what's near
Trembles, and hides itself for fear,
Yet, of this general Hurrican,
And dire Alarm th' Occasion
Is, what one would suspect the least,
So small an Atom of a Beast.
With hundred rambling flights he teases
The Brute, and leads him where he pleases;
Gets up his Nostrils, laughs to see
With how much Rage his Enemy
Tore his own Flesh, and all in Blood
Ran raving through the affrighted Wood.
He still pursues, till out of Breath
The Lyon dropp'd, and bled to Death.
The merry buzzing Conqueror
Flies from the dismal Seat of War,
And as he sounded chearfully
The Charge, so sounds the Victory.
But going to proclaim his Story,
Puffed up and blinded with his Glory,
He met a Cobweb in his way,
And fell a silly Spider's Prey.

The Moral.

_So one that cross'd the Ocean o'er,
May smother in a Common Shore._

_The Woodcleaver and Mercury._

In Ancient times, when _Jupiter_
Was pretty free, a Labourer,
That earn'd his Bread with cleaving Wood,
Lost with his Ax his Livelyhood.
'T would grieve ones Heart to hear what sad
And pitious moan the Fellow made:
He had no Tools to sell again,
And buy another Ax, poor Man!
It was his All, and what to do,
Or how to live he does not know,
And as the Tears stood in his Eyes,
My Ax! O my dear Ax! he cries:
Sweet loving _Jupiter_! restore
My Ax. _Olympus_ hear his roar;
And _Mercury_ the Post-Boy, or
The Flying Post (his Character
Suits either for he's God of Lying
Beardless, and fam'd for News and Flying.)
Came to the Labourer, and said,
Your Ax in't lost, cheer up, my Lad:
I've got it here; but can you tell
Which is your own? I very well,
Quoth he. Says _Mercury_ take hold,
And gives him one of Massy Gold;
To this, quoth th' other, I've no claim;
To a Silver one he said the same.
But when his Iron one was shewn,
He cries, I Faix this is mine own;
God bless you, Sir. And _Mercury_ }
Said, to reward his Honesty, }
Th' are all your own, I give 'em ye. }
The Story's quickly nois'd about;
The way to Riches is found out:
'Tis but to lose one's Ax; the Fools,
That had none, sold their Cloaths and Tools
To get one; and whate'er they cost,
They're bought in order to be lost.
The God of Thieves and Merchants, who
By chance had nothing else to do,
Came as they call'd; his Deity
Gave every one the choice of three:
The lying Rogues deny'd their own,
And swore they lost a Golden one:
But as they stoop for't, _Mercury_
Chops off their Heads, and there they lie.

The Moral.

_The Fable shews you, Honesty
Is always the best Policy._

_The Hare and his Ears._

Some stupid horn'd Beast or other,
Trotting along to get some fother,
Had run the Lyon in his Side;
Who, for the future to provide
Against such Accidents as this,
Sends Writs, by which he banishes
From his Dominions every one,
That wore a Horn: And when 'twas known,
The Stags sneak off with Bulls and Rams,
The very Calves went with their Dams:
And, whilst they are moving every where
To foreign parts, a fearful Hare,
That saw the shadow of his Ears,
Was startled at the sight; and fears,
Some Villain might maliciously
Say they were Horns; What Remedy?
Says he, they're long, and I can't tell.
Well Neighbour Cricket Fare-you-well:
My Ears are Horns too; I'll march off;
They're very long, and that's enough:
Nay, were th' as short as Ostrich Ears,
It would not rid me of my fears;
For if they catch m' I go to Pot.
Foh! says the Cricket, y'are a sot.
Hares Horns! what Puppy calls 'em so?
Th' are Ears. But yet, for ought you know,
Replies poor Puss, they'll pass for Horns;
And may be Horns of Unicorns.
They call the Rabbet's Fore legs, Wings,
I hold no Argument with Kings.

The Moral.

_At Lyons Courts, in case of Treason,
I rather trust my Heels, than Reason._

_The Rat and the Frog._

A Graceless Rat, in special case,
Kept neither Lent nor Holidays;
But lov'd his Gut beyond his Soul,
And look'd as slick as any Mole:
Who one day having time to spare,
Went to the Marshes for some Air;
There meets a Frog, not over fat,
Who says, your Servant Mr. Rat;
And seemingly with much good Nature,
Invites the Stranger o'er the Water:
Says he, I live in yonder Fens,
Go with me I'll treat you like a Prince.
The Rat who had a mind before
To ramble, need t've heard no more;
But yet the Frog made a whole Lecture
On Country Bagnios, and their Structure,
The Voyage, and the Recreation
He'd find in his amphibious Nation;
Their Manners, and a hundred things,
Of which in Winter Evenings,
He'd tell fine Stories ten Years after,
By Fire sides in Praise of Water:
And, since he always liv'd a Shore,
There's nothing could refresh him more.
These Reasons pleas'd his Ratship so,
That he was raving mad to go.
But as your pamper'd Folks are fearful,
He said, one cannot be too careful;
'Tis true I swim, but not like you,
And Cramps, or other things, you know,
Might happen: If I could but have
Some small Assistance.----Says the Knave,
Prithee be quiet, to prevent
All harm, I've an expedient,
That has a thousand times been tried.
Then took a bit of Rush and tied
One of the Fore feet of the Rat
To his Hind leg, and out they set.
But O thou wicked World! how evil
Are all our Hearts! this croaking Devil
Swum to the deep; where, when he got him,
He strove to pull him to the bottom;
And thought it was a lucky hit,
To meet with such a dainty bit;
Good wholesome Meat, and so went on.
The Rat, who felt he was undone,
Cry'd out, and foul'd himself for fear, }
And, tho' sometimes in half a Year, }
The Varlet never said a Prayer; }
Yet (as the Proverb tells us, he
That cannot pray, must go to Sea.)
So now, with all the Sugar Words,
A frighted Coward's Heart affords;
He call'd the Gods, and coax'd the Frog;
But, No: That false hard-hearted Dog
Is deaf to all his Protestations,
And violates the Law of Nations.
One lugs and labours like a Horse,
Th' other resists with all his Force.
The Frog's for going down; the Rat,
If 't pleased the Gods, would rather not.
And, whilst they're struggling different ways,
A Kite, that hover'd o'er the Place,
Saw what our Gentry was about,
Would fain have seen the Battle out;
If 't had been safe; but being loth
To lose his Stomack, took 'em both:
And, doubly blessed beyond his wish,
Supp'd like a Lord, on Flesh and Fish.

The Moral.

_He, that's entangled in a Plot,
For want of Strength, is often caught:
And in his Practices detected
By Accidents, he ne'er suspected.
What cares a Frog for Kites, in Water?
But Villany rewards its Author._

_The Cat and an old Rat._

I've heard, and if it be a Lie,
You have it e'en as cheap as I;
That a huge Cat of mighty Name,
A second _Rodilard_ for Fame,
The _Alexander_ of the Cats;
An _Attila_, a scourge to Rats,
Had brought such horrid devastation,
And Mischief on the latter Nation;
'Twas thought he would depopulate
The World, and swallow every Rat.
The long Tailed Gentry, far and near,
Are all possess'd with so much fear,
That there's not one in six Miles round,
That dares to venture above ground;
Their bloody minded Enemy
Is sorry, that they're grown so shy.
In vain he watch'd, and lurk'd about,
The De'l a bit as one came out.
Says he, the Scoundrels are alive,
I hear 'em stir, and must contrive
To draw 'em out; for, where they dwell,
I'm sure, they're uncomatable.
At that he gets upon a Shelf,
And to a String he hangs himself
By one Foot, dangling with his Head
Downward, as if he had been dead.
The Rats all thought, he had been taken
At stealing Cheese, or gnawing Bacon;
Perhaps he might have foul'd the Bed,
Murder'd a Bird; or, that he had
Committed any other Evil,
By instigation of the Devil,
Or his own more malicious Nature;
For which they'd hang'd the wicked Creature.
The Prisoners, who wanted Bread
Thank'd Heaven, and were very glad.
They show their Snouts, and now begin
To peep out and pop back again;
Till growing bold they leave their home,
And scamper up and down the Room.
Down comes the treacherous Malefactor,
Who rais'd to Life without a Doctor.
Fell with such rage about their House
Each Blow kill'd either Rat or Mouse;
Some made Resistance, but in vain,
The Ground is cover'd with the slain,
Such Execution did his Claw,
But when the cunning Warrior saw,
The nimble ones go off in Sholes,
And get within their crooked Holes,
He call'd to 'em, for all your haste,
I know, you'll come to me at last.
This trick you never knew before,
But I can shew you hundred more.
He'd kill'd enough to live upon
Some few Days; but when that was gone,
He kept his Word, and wheedled 'em
With quite another Stratagem.
He jump'd into a Tub of Flower,
And there stood powd'ring half an hour,
'Till thinking he was dawbd enough,
He walks into an open trough
Where lying snug as white as Snow,
And roul'd up like a piece of Dough,
He waits the Starvlings coming to'm,
And now and then he pick'd up some.
But an old Rat, who full of Scars,
Had lost his Tail in former Wars;
Standing at th' Entrance of the Cave,
Call'd to our Cat. You, Mr. Knave,
Your Hanging or your Flower won't do,
I know your Tricks as well as you.
You was a Cat, and are so still:
Change to what form or shape you will:
Nay be a Log, I wont come nigh't.
Says th' other, Faith he's in the right.
And wisely knows, distrust to be
The Mother of Security.

_The Weasel and the Rat._

A Hungry Weasel poor and lank,
With wrinkled Jaws, and Taper Flank,
Hardly recover'd from her Weakness,
Occasion'd by a Fit of Sickness.
Met with a Granary, and stole
Into it thro' a little Hole.
She bless'd herself to see the store,
No Miser sure could covet more:
And, thinking Nobody could harm her,
Fell to, and fed like any Farmer.
At Nights she slept, and snor'd at Ease,
And having Peace and Quietness,
Four Meals a Day, a wholesome Air,
A dainty Diet, little Care,
She quickly chang'd her meagre Feature,
And look'd like quite another Creature.
The Truth is, it would be a hard Case,
If all this should not mend one's Carcass.
Once, sitting at a Dish of Wheat,
She heard a Noise, forsook her Meat,
Ran to the Hole to save her Bacon,
Squeez'd to get thro'; but was mistaken.
And as she searches all about,
And finds no Crevish to get out,
She spies a Rat, and tells him, pray
What must I do, I've lost my way,
Which is the Hole? No, says the Rat,
Your way is right; but y'are too Fat.
Stay but a Week, and fast, good Dame, }
Till y'are as lean, as when you came, }
And then you'll find the Hole's the same. }

The Moral.

A _Man in profitable Station,
Grown rich by Plundering the Nation,
Is often willing to resign,
But seldom to refund the Coin_.

_The Wolf and the Stork._

Wolves commonly are fam'd for Eating,
As much, as Foxes are for Cheating.
One of 'em, at a Mutton Feast,
Devour'd his Meat with so much haste;
A Bone got in his Throat, and there
Stuck fast; some Learned Authors swear,
It was the _Os Sacrum_; others say,
It was one of the _Vertebrae_.
But hang disputes; since it is all one
What Bone it was; so 'twas no small one.
There stood Sir Wolf, and full of Grief
Made signs he wanted quick Relief.
And well it was he could not Cry;
For no Soul would have come a nigh.
At last he shews it to a Stork,
The long-leg'd Surgeon goes to Work;
Takes out the Bone immediately;
And when 'twas done, desir'd his Fee.
Sure, says the Wolf, whoever draws
His Head out harmless from my Jaws,
May boast of such a Happiness,
As far o'erpays all Offices;
A thing which ne'er was done before,
And may be, ne'er will happen more.
But O Damn'd Vice Ingratitude!
To scape with Life, and be so rude,
As to ask Fees! take care young Man,
You never see my Face again.

The Moral.

_Some Folks are so mischievous grown,
They claim Thanks if they let y' alone._

_The Frogs asking for a King._

The Frogs, after some Ages spent
In Democratick Government,
Grew weary of it, and agree,
To change it for a Monarchy;
And humbly begg'd a King of _Jove_,
The God comply'd, and from above
Dropt 'em a very peaceful one;
But only in the falling down,
He made such Noise, that all the Frogs,
Who are but fearful skittish Dogs
Were frighted and drove under Water,
And there remain'd a good while after,
Among the Weeds; their fear was such,
There was not one, that dar'd so much
As look upon him, whom they thought
Some Giant, or the Lord knows what.
Tho' all this while 'twas but a Log,
At last came up a daring Frog;
But took care, not to swim too nigh it,
Till, seeing it lay so very quiet,
He went on, tho' in mighty awe;
But when his Fellow Subjects saw
Their Bulky King did him no harm,
In half an Hour the Pond did swarm
Of Frogs. O! what a pretty thing
It was to play about their King:
The meekest that e'er wore a Crown;
And soon they're so familiar grown,
That laying all respect aside,
They jump upon his Back, and ride.
The King says nothing, keeps his Peace,
And let's em work him as they please.
But this they hate, they'd have him move.
A second time they call on _Jove_,
And tire his Brain with clam'rous rout,
To have a King, that stirr'd about.
_Jove_ mad for being plagu'd again,
Sends em a Damn'd devouring Crane;
Who only was for Kill, and Slay,
And eat whoe'er came in his way.
Much louder now the Rascals cry;
Deliver us from Tyranny!
O _Jupiter_! if he goes on, }
We shall be murder'd every one, }
This is the Devil upon dun. }
Quoth he, I'll humour Fools no more,
You might have kept what ye had before;
You left your common wealth, to seek
A King; and then he was too meek;
You must have one forsooth, that stirs:
I hope now you have got one, Sirs.
You never chang'd without a Curse,
Keep this, for fear you get a worse.

The Moral.

_Thank God, this Fable is not meant }
To_ Englishmen; _they are content, }
And hate to change their Government._ }

_The Wolf and the Lamb._

It is a thing without contest,
That he that's strongest reasons best.
The Weather being sultry hot,
A Lamb to cool himself, was got
A paddling in a purling Stream.
(To Rhiming Fools a mighty Theme)
When a she Wolf (the De'l sure sent her)
Came down, in quest of some Adventure,
And hardly spy'd poor Innocence;
But pick'd a Quarrel void of Sence;
Began to sputter, Damn and Sink,
Ask'd how he dar'd to spoil her Drink,
A nasty poysoning Dog. Odsbud!
He'd make it all as thick as mud.
For which he'd punish him by _Jove_.
Madam, reply'd the Lamb, I love
To reason calmly, and will show ye,
That I am Twenty Yards below ye.
And humbly craving leave, from thence
I draw this reg'lar Consequence;
That I can't, standing in this Place,
Disturb the Liquor of your Grace.
You do, says the other, and last Year
You told some lies of me. I swear,
I was not born then, quoth the Lamb:
I han't left sucking of my Dam.
'Twas either you or else your Brother.
I've ne'er a one. Then 'twas your Mother,
Or any other near Relation;
For all your wicked Generation
Hates me; your Dogs and Shepherds too
And without any more a do,
The Lamb was carry'd to the Wood
And serv'd the cruel Wolf for Food.

_The Lyon grown old._

A Valiant Lyon, now grown old,
His Limbs and Jaws benumb'd and cold,
Lay thinking on his Royal Bed,
With scarce a Tooth in all his Head:
And Claws worn to the Stumps with Tearing:
(But every thing's the worse for wearing)
And whilst he labour'd to repent,
Complaining of his Youth mispent,
His Rebel Subjects paid no more,
That Honour, which they gave before,
But treat him with Contempt and Scorn:
The Bull does push him with his Horn,
The Horse affronts him with his Heels:
No Tongue can tell what grief he feels
From these insulting Enemies.
In comes the Ass; but when he sees,
That Coward too forget his Duty,
He dying said, _Tu quoque Brute?_

_The two Physicians._

Two graduate Physicians,
Of many Years Experience,
With Coaches to proclaim their Skill,
Are sent for to a Man that's ill.
One feels his Pulse and gives him over:
But th' other says he may recover;
I have great hopes, we'll give him some
Of my _Antithanaticum_.
No, cries the first, he is too weak;
Yes truly Sir, I'm very sick,
Replies the Patient; down they sate,
And enter'd in a deep Debate:
One quotes four Words of _Arabick_,
Th' other an Aphorism in _Greek_.
They're very hot, and every one
Sticks to his own Opinion.
The Upshot was, they writ a Bill,
Which neither lik'd of very well:
They visit him some Days, and vent
Many a learned Argument;
But as his Life went on full Speed,
He could not stay till they agreed,
And so march'd off; and when he's dead,
Both still are in the right; one said,
I told you so, his very Eye
Prognosticated he would dye:
And th' other cry'd, had I been believ'd,
I'm very sure, he would have liv'd.

_Love and Folly._

The charming God, that with his Bow,
So many Thousand Years ago,
Came to that troublesome Employ,
He serves in still, is but a Boy:
His Art is so mysterious,
That to explain his business,
His Tackle, Arrows, Quiver, Taper,
Would take up several Reams of Paper;
Which being more than I've a mind
To fill; I'll only, since he is blind,
Tell you which way he lost his sight,
With what came on't, and so good Night.
Folly and Love took one another
Aside, as Boys will run together,
And crept into a Nook of Heaven,
To play at Seven or Eleven;
And here good People, Gamesters may
Behold what mischief comes from Play:
There 'rose a quarrel about the Main,
Its Eight says Love, and thought 'twas plain;
Quoth Folly, but I'm sure 'tis Nine,
You Little Cheat, the Game is mine:
At last Words growing very high,
Love gives his angry Foe the Lie;
Then up starts Folly, flings the Dice
At Love, and beats out both his Eyes.
_Venus_ would be reveng'd, bawl'd out,
And shed so many Tears about
The Peepers of her little Son,
That she was like to have spoil'd her own.
She would have Justice done, she swore,
Call'd Folly Rogue and Son 'f a Whore:
How did you do't; I'll make you dance?
Indeed said Folly, 'twas by chance.
Cry'd _Cupid_, you're a punning Cur,
And snobb'd. In comes the Thunderer,
With all the Gods and Goddesses,
To sit upon the Business,
Between Love and the Boy at Bar.
The Cuckold and the God of War
Were very hot, they'd have him dye;
But when _Minerva_ ask'd him, Why?
They said, because----Be free from rage,
Ye Gods, said _Themis_, mind his Age,
And then the Council seem'd to incline
To make him only pay a Fine
To Love. But the injur'd Mother cries,
That won't do, I'll have both his Eyes,
_Secundum legem Talionis_,
He shall pay _Corpore non bonis_.
_Apollo_ bids her to be civil.
T'have two blind Boys would be the Devil,
Said _Juno_, and this gave the hint
To _Jove_, t'inflinct a Punishment,
That might ease Love; what must he do?
He could not walk alone; and so
'Twas fixed by all the Gods above,
That Folly should be guide to Love.

_A She-Goat, a Sheep and a Sow._

A She-Goat that gave exc'lent Milk,
A Sheep, whose Fleece was soft as Silk,
And a fat Sow went to the Fair
In the same Cart, not to take th' Air,
Or to see Shows; but, as I am told,
Downright in order to be sold;
All the way long the Sow did squawl,
And scream enough to deafen 'em all;
Had she been follow'd by six score
Butchers, she could have done no more:
The other Creatures wonder'd at her,
And could not dream what was the matter;
They thought it must proceed from fear;
And yet perceived no danger near;
The Carter told her, What d'ye mean?
Who gives you reason to complain?
Your Cries have stunn'd us; what d'ye make
This horrid Noise for? prithee take
Example by your Company,
Be silent or talk civilly.
Look on that Sheep, he thinks you're mad;
Has he spoke one Word good or bad?
No: He is wise.----The Devil he is,
Replies the Sow, could he but guess,
Whither you carry us, or why;
I'm sure he'd bawl as loud as I:
He's used to Shears, and so the Fool
Thinks only that you'll take his Wool;
And this good Lady with the Beard
Has no great Cause to be afear'd;
She's daily milk'd and does depend on't,
you'll drain her Dug, and there's an end on't:
And 't maybe so, or 't may be not:
But, wou'd you have me such a sot,
Who 'm good for nothing, whilst I've Breath,
To be afraid of less than Death?

The Moral.

_Upon my Word 'twas shrewdly said,
Of one that was no better bred:
Yes all this sad complaints and fear
Are for the Thing she's forced to bear:
And tho' she knew, she was to dye,
She could not change her destiny.
Therefore I think, where all is lost,
He, that sees farthest, suffers most._

_The Dog and the Ass._

Help one another is, no doubt,
A Law we can't live well without:
Yet one Day, (and how't came to pass
I don't know) 't happen'd that an Ass,
Who's otherwise an honest Creature,
Of no uncharitable Nature,
Did slight it: A large Dog and he
Were travelling in Company,
Without a thought of Strife or Care,
Followed by him whose Goods they were;
And coming to some curious Grass,
The latter went to sleep; his Ass,
Who was a Lover of good Pasture,
Made better use on't than his Master,
And fell a feeding heartily:
But the poor Dog stood starving by,
And said, Much good may do thy heart,
Dear fellow Traveller; thou art
My loving Friend.--But Mr. _Gray_,
My Meat is in your Panier, pray,
Stoop down, and let me take out some,
I han't eat since we came from home;
He gets no Answer, asks again,
But No, th' _Arcadian_ Gentleman
Thought every Word a mouthful lost,
And would say nothing to his cost,
So held his Tongue a while; at last
He told him, Friend, I am in haste,
And, when I stoop my Back, it akes;
Have patience till your Master wakes,
It won't be long, and then you'll get
Your Belly full, if he thinks fit.
Just then a Wolf came from the Wood,
And they have Appetites as good
As any; Grizz'l at a distance
Hears him, and asks the Dog's assistance;
But he don't budge, and serves him right;
Says he, I never us'd to fight
Without a cause for fighting's sake;
Stay till your Master is awake;
Hear what he says, it won't be long;
Sir Wolf won't offer any wrong;
And if you fear his Teeth or Claws,
Knock but his Brains out, break his Jaws,
And lay him sprawling on the Ground;
You're newly Shod, and Iron bound;
And whilst this fine Discourse went on,
Poor Grizzle's business was done.

The Moral.

_None can live happily together,
Without assisting one another._

_The Fox and Wolf._