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Title: Aesop Dress'd; Or, A Collection of Fables Writ in Familiar Verse

Author: Bernard Mandeville

Commentator: John S. Shea

Release date: October 29, 2010 [eBook #33888]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AESOP DRESS'D; OR, A COLLECTION OF FABLES WRIT IN FAMILIAR VERSE ***

THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

BERNARD MANDEVILLE

ÆSOP DRESS'D

OR A

COLLECTION

OF

FABLES

WRIT IN FAMILIAR VERSE

(1704)

INTRODUCTION

BY

JOHN S. SHEA

PUBLICATION NUMBER 120

WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, LOS ANGELES

1966

GENERAL EDITORS

Earl Miner, University of California, Los Angeles

Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles

Lawrence Clark Powell, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library

ADVISORY EDITORS

Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan

John Butt, University of Edinburgh

James L. Clifford, Columbia University

Ralph Cohen, University of California, Los Angeles

Vinton A. Dearing, University of California, Los Angeles

Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago

Louis A. Landa, Princeton University

Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota

Everett T. Moore, University of California, Los Angeles

James Sutherland, University College, London

H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., University of California, Los Angeles

CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

Edna C. Davis, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library

INTRODUCTION

Bernard Mandeville's first extant book in English, Some Fables after the Easie and Familiar Method of Monsieur de la Fontaine, was published in 1703; it reappeared with additional fables in 1704 as Aesop Dress'd.[1] Neither title reveals that, except for two original fables by Mandeville, the book consists entirely of verse translations from the twelve books of La Fontaine's Fables (1668-1694). It is the first book-length translation from these poems into English.

The only previous translations from Fables into English verse appear to have been those made ten years earlier by John Dennis. Miscellanies in Verse and Prose (1693) was a curious volume of Pindaric odes, imitations of Horace, Juvenal, and Boileau, and letters that the young Dennis had written during his travels in France and Italy, including the well-known account of the "delightful horrour" and "terrible Joy" that he had experienced while crossing the Alps; there were, finally, ten fables in octosyllabic couplets—all of them translations from La Fontaine. A word about Dennis's fables may help to put Mandeville's into perspective.

Their resemblance to the French originals is slight. Not La Fontaine, but Samuel Butler, presides over Dennis's fables; indeed, when Dennis discusses them in the Preface to Miscellanies, he fails to mention La Fontaine, although he devotes a large proportion of his remarks to a defense of Butler's burlesque verse, which he acknowledges as his model.[2] Many people were writing Hudibrastics in the 1680's and 1690's: the propensity of Butler's couplet for arousing laughter had made it a fad.[3] With its jog-trot meter, insinuating swiftness, and jarring double and triple rhymes, the Hudibrastic couplet was ideally suited to the mockery performed by low burlesque. All burlesque works by an incongruity between subject and style; the particular function of low burlesque is to debase an elevated subject by treating it in an undignified manner.[4] So it was that Butler, with the assistance of a crazy style, had exploited the gap between the high pretensions and the ridiculous performances of a Puritan knight and his squire.

But of the hordes of scribblers that followed in the wake of Hudibras, scarcely any possessed Butler's sense of satiric propriety. Where his success had been founded on the discrepancy between subject and style that is essential to burlesque, they employed his style with no regard for its suitability to their subjects. Ordinary narrative poems with no satiric intent were decked in Hudibrastic couplets for the sake of a superficial cleverness.[5] Dennis followed the fashion. His ten verse-fables are filled with outrageous Butlerisms:

Isgrim had all the Winter far'd

So very ill, his looks Men scar'd.

He had (poor Dog!) got an evil habit,

Of going to Bed with the Devil a bit,

So that he had contracted a meen,

Which truly represented Famine.

At sight of Steed that's one huge bit of Fat,

Hight Isgrim's heart for joy went pit a pat.

Had I not known thy Self and Kindred,

Ev'n I my self should have been in dread.

The Crane's arrival was opportune,

Order'd for Isgrim's good by fortune.[6]

Whatever the intentions of the poet, it seems to be the property of the Hudibrastic couplet inevitably to denigrate its subject. While it is probable that Dennis intended his fables to be clever and modish, and nothing more, they turn out to be travesties of La Fontaine.

Dennis was attempting to impose on the animal fable an alien style. From Aesop to Thurber, the chief strength of the fabulist has been his humility: by selecting animal stories as the guise for his moral lessons, he has hoped to disarm his readers into accepting the truth. This strategy would seem to rule out the style of low burlesque, for the impulse to this style—a dignified subject to be mocked out of its dignity—does not exist in the animal fable. In particular the Fables of La Fontaine, perhaps the most graceful, concise, and witty ever written, do not respond well to the ferocious manner of Dennis. Dennis translating La Fontaine resembles a bull in a china shop.

While Mandeville is no gazelle either, he has better manners than Dennis. The Butlerisms are still present, but they are not everywhere and they are not so grotesque. The difference between Dennis and Mandeville may be merely the interval of ten years, during which the influence of Butler had faded; but this seems unlikely, since Bond cites many examples of the continuing vogue of Hudibras, even well into the 1730's.[7] A more probable explanation for the difference is that, whereas Dennis was an avowed imitator of Butler who happened to be translating the Fables of La Fontaine, Mandeville seems to have been in this work chiefly a translator of La Fontaine who was, incidentally, writing at a time when the impulse to copy Butler's superficial qualities was almost irresistible. The total number of Hudibrastic couplets in Aesop Dress'd comes to only a handful:

They'll give you a hundred Niceties,

As Chicken Bones, boyl'd Loins of Mutton,

As good as ever Tooth was put in....

And therefore let my Lord Abdomen

Say what he will, we'll work for no Man.

A Cat, whose Sirname pretty hard was,

One Captain Felis Rodilardus....

Before the Reign of Buxom Dido,

When Beasts could Speak as well as I do....

The Truth is, it would be a hard Case,

If all this should not mend one's Carcass.[8]

Even these few unmistakable instances are less distracting than the ones in Dennis. Mandeville's verse is much like his prose: straightforward, downright, even in tone. Here are the first ten lines of Mandeville's "The Fox and Wolf":

The Fox went on the search one Night,

The Moon had hung out all her light;

He sees her image in a Well;

But what it was he could not tell;

Gets on the Bricks to look at ease:

At last concludes it is a Cheese:

One Bucket's down, the other up,

He jumps in that which was a-top,

And coming to the Water, sees

How little Skill he had in Cheese.

La Fontaine has this:

... Un soir il [le loup] aperçut

La lune au fond d'un puits: l'orbiculaire image

Lui parut un ample fromage.

Deux seaux alternativement

Puisoient le liquide élément:

Notre Renard, pressé par une faim canine,

S'accommode en celui qu'au haut de la machine

L'autre seau tenoit suspendu.

Voilà l'animal descendu,

Tiré d'erreur, mais fort en peine,

Et voyant sa perte prochaine....

Dennis had inserted these lines in the pseudo-erudite Butlerian manner:

The two large Buckets which were there,

Like Pollux and like Castor were.

How so pray? For 'tis devilish odd,

To liken a Bucket to a God;

When one came up from towards the Center,

That in our upper world strait went there.

These drew up turns the liquid Element,

Into one got Renard, and towards Hell he went.[9]

Nearly all Mandeville's translations are, like "The Fox and Wolf," longer than their originals. The added length is partly explained by meter: Mandeville's octosyllabic line is less capacious, as a rule, than La Fontaine's flexible one. Thus, even though "The Wolf and the Lamb" moves with a speed comparable to "Le Loup et l'Agneau," Mandeville takes 34 lines to La Fontaine's 29.[10] More often, Mandeville's translations are longer than their originals because Mandeville is not able to match La Fontaine's wit and point. "La Lice et sa Compagne," an exercise in light-footed elegance, begins this way:

Une Lice étant sur son terme,

Et ne sachant où mettre un fardeau si pressant,

Fait si bien qu'à la fin sa Compagne consent

De lui prêter sa hutte, où la Lice s'enferme.

In translating, Mandeville expands these four lines to ten without special gain:

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, Neighbor.[11]

Perhaps it is Mandeville's plainspokenness, his determination to say all that must be said, which causes him to state explicitly things that La Fontaine left implicit. "La Cigale et la Fourmi," contrasting an irresponsible grasshopper and a provident ant, implies but subdues a contrast between art and life. Mandeville makes the contrast explicit:

And now the hungry Songster's driv'n

To such a state, no Man can know it,

But a Musician or a Poet....[12]

"The Lyon and the Gnat" is fairly close to its original in length (46 lines to La Fontaine's 39) and in spirit; but Mandeville does not improve his fable by supplying the adjective "silly" ("silly Spider") where La Fontaine had written "une araignée," or by inserting a line about the gnat's pride, "Puffed up and blinded with his glory," where La Fontaine expected his readers to discern the gnat's pride for themselves.[13] Another translation that sticks close to the French in its sense is "The Dog and the Ass," in which an ass refuses food to a hungry dog and is in turn abandoned by the dog and killed by a hungry wolf. Mandeville adds the judgment that La Fontaine excluded. The wolf attacks:

Grizz'l [the Ass] 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....[14]

The italicized words, entirely added by Mandeville, apparently represent his conviction that the irony of La Fontaine's fable would be intensified by the dog's sardonic comment and the translator's "serves him right." Other examples might be cited of Mandeville's explicitness.

The characterizing details of some of the great fables, however, disappear in Mandeville's English. Although "The Plague among the Beasts" is faithful to the original, the tragic overtones of "Les Animaux malade de la Peste" are not recaptured; they are perhaps unrecapturable. The ironies of La Fontaine's characterization are ignored: the lion's "L'histoire nous apprend," for instance, by which the unscrupulous politician poses as a deep-browed savant; the description of the other beasts as "petits saints," and of the wolf who condemns the innocent ass as "quelque peu clerc"—these disappear.[15] "L'Ivrogne et sa Femme" meets the same fate. Mandeville retains the outlines of the original but treats the details perfunctorily, as though he had given up trying to re-create the comic terror of La Fontaine's little masterpiece. "A drunkard" is not an adequate equivalent for "un suppôt de Bacchus"; "very drunk" is not the same as "plein du jus de la treille"; entire sentences are left out, such as "Là les vapeurs du vin nouveau / Cuvèrent à loisir"; and the ending of the poem suffers from the alteration of details and from an awkward inversion for the sake of a rhyme:

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?

"Quelle personne es-tu? dit-il à ce fantôme.

—La cellerière du royaume

De Satan, reprit-elle; et je porte à manger

A ceux qu'enclôt la tombe noire."

Le mari repart, sans songer:

"Tu ne leur portes point à boire?"[16]

Of the many differences between La Fontaine and Mandeville, those noticed up to this point may be blamed on the latter's incapacity. Some of the other changes may be partially justified on the grounds that through them Mandeville was deliberately trying to alter the tone of the poem, to give it an earthiness of spirit congruent with his temperament. La Fontaine's "Le Lion malade et le Renard" begins with hushed dignity:

De par le roi des animaux,

Qui dans son antre était malade,

Fut fait savoir à ses vassaux

Que chaque espèce en ambassade

Envoyat gens le visiter....

Mandeville's translation begins:

The king of Brutes sent all about,

He was afflicted with the gout....[17]

The gout is a standard comic disease which Mandeville gives to his lion to make him comically undignified. La Fontaine's lion remains dignified and restrained throughout. (The two versions of this fable are also instances of the relative capabilities of the French and the English four-stress lines.) In another fable, a tonal difference appears in some lines describing the meeting of a haggard wolf and a well-fed dog:

Le Loup donc l'aborde humblement,

Entre en propos, et lui fait compliment

Sur son embonpoint, qu'il admire.

And therefore in a humble way

He gives the Dog the time o' th' Day;

Talks mighty complaisant, and vents

A Waggon Load of Compliments

Upon his being in such a Case,

His brawny Flank and jolly Face.[18]

The tone of polite gravity is gone; what remains is less succinct, but more specific, and in its way effective. When Mandeville's invention is working well, as it does in "The Wolf and Dog," it provides, in its colloquial heartiness, an adequate substitute for La Fontaine's refinement of tone and subtlety of detail. On the whole, his fables are close to their originals, especially when compared to those of Dennis, even though "the easie and familiar method of Monsieur de La Fontaine" is something that, despite his professions, Mandeville fails to reproduce.

Only two years intervened between Mandeville's translations from La Fontaine (1703) and The Grumbling Hive (1705), the 433-line fable that, through the years, would grow into that great repository of social, political, and economic nonconformity, The Fable of the Bees. It is not surprising that many of the fables which Mandeville chose to translate anticipate the themes of his great work. Among these are "The Milk Woman," on the self-flatery of the egoistic dream; "The Frogs asking for a King," on the instability of human desires; "The Wolves and the Sheep," on political self-deception; "Hands, Feet, and Belly," on social interdependence; and "The Lyon grown Old," on the ultimate blow to pride.[19]

Since Mandeville would give so much space in The Fable of the Bees to his analysis of pride,[20] it is appropriate that pride engaged his attention in this early book of fables. "The Frog" is notable chiefly because Mandeville lengthened La Fontaine's moral of four lines to fourteen in order to glance at the social and economic implications of pride:

So full of Pride is every Age!

A Citizen must have a Page,

A Petty Prince Ambassadors,

And Tradesmens Children Governours;

A Fellow, that i'n't worth a Louse,

Still keeps his Coach and Country-house;

A Merchant swell'd with haughtiness,

Looks ten times bigger than he is;

Buys all, and draws upon his Friend,

As if his Credit had no end;

At length he strains with so much Force,

Till, like the Frog, he bursts in course,

And, by his empty Skin you find,

That he was only fill'd with Wind.[21]

Two of the 39 fables in the collection are original productions: "The Carp" and "The Owl and the Nightingale." Both poems focus upon pride. "The Carp" tells the story of a young and inexperienced English carp who swims into foreign waters to learn "manners and arts." Warned by a herring to go home and learn first about his own country, the carp rebuffs this honest advice, takes up with fops, and is drawn into ruin before he finally returns home "as vain and ignorant, / As e'er he was before he went." The subject of the moral reflections at the end is self-delusion in the particular form of sophisticated vanity.[22] The other poem, "The Owl and the Nightingale" (the longest poem in the collection, at 181 lines), also concerns pride. The Eagle, having looked unsuccessfully among the birds of his court for a singing night-watchman, sends out a general letter. The nightingale realizes with excitement that he will easily win the competition; but he coyly refuses to go to court until sent for, makes elaborate self-depreciations in the eagle's presence, and hold out, obviously, for more recognition and reward. While he delays, an owl has been persuaded by friends to try for the position and has a hearing. Although he sings unskillfully, he manages to stay awake. When the nightingale returns to court the next day, he is infuriated to learn that an owl is competing against him and that the eagle has ordered the two birds to perform against one another that night. The nightingale protests so loudly and treasonably that he is kicked out of court, and the owl, dull but faithful, is declared the winner. The moral follows:

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.[23]

In some respects this poem looks forward to The Fable of the Bees. Mandeville subjects the nightingale to a brief psychological analysis and looks on his failure with a blend of detached pity and satiric mordancy; he strips away the sophisticated defenses that hide the basic emotions, recommending honesty with oneself and with others; he identifies the personal interests of the members of society with the interests of the state. It remains to point out that neither here nor elsewhere in this collection does Mandeville assert that private vices are public benefits.

Washington University

NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION

1. F. B. Kaye, ed., The Fable of the Bees (Oxford, 1924), I, xxx.

2. The Preface to Miscellanies in Verse and Prose is reprinted in Edward Niles Hooker's edition of The Critical Works of John Dennis, I (Baltimore, 1939), 6-10.

3. Richmond P. Bond, English Burlesque Poetry, 1700-1750 (Cambridge, Mass., 1932), p. 147.

4. Bond, pp. 3-5.

5. Bond, p. 153, cites several narrative poems of this sort.

6. From these fables in the 1693 Miscellanies: "The Wolf and the Horse," pp. 72-83 (the first two excerpts); "The Lyon and the Ass a Hunting," pp. 92-95; "The Wolf and the Crane," pp. 101-105.

7. English Burlesque Poetry, pp. 149-152.

8. These instances occur, respectively, in "The Wolf and Dog," "The Hands, Feet, and Belly," "Council Held by the Rats," "The Lyon in Love," and "The Weasel and the Rat."

9. Aesop Dress'd, p. 73; La Fontaine, "Le Loup et le Renard," XI. vi; Dennis, Miscellanies, p. 117.

10. Aesop Dress'd, pp. 64-65; La Fontaine, I. x.

11. La Fontaine, II, vii; "The two Bitches," Aesop Dress'd, p. 37.

12. La Fontaine, I. i; "The Grasshopper and Ant," Aesop Dress'd, pp. 17-18.

13. Aesop Dress'd, pp. 48-50; La Fontaine, "Le Lion et le Moucheron," II. ix.

14. Aesop Dress'd, pp. 71-73; La Fontaine, "L'Âne et le Chien," VIII. xvii.

15. Aesop Dress'd, pp. 14-15; La Fontaine, VII. i.

16. "The Drunkard and his Wife," Aesop Dress'd, pp. 24-25; La Fontaine, III. vii.

17. La Fontaine, VI. xiv; "The Sick Lyon and the Fox," Aesop Dress'd, pp. 38-39.

18. La Fontaine, "Le Loup et le Chien," I. v; "The Wolf and Dog," Aesop Dress'd, pp. 2-4.

19. The poems appear on the following pages of Aesop Dress'd: "The Milk Woman," pp. 18-19; "The Frogs asking for a King," pp. 62-64; "The Wolves and the Sheep," pp. 45-46; "Hands, Feet, and Belly," pp. 7-10; "The Lyon grown Old," pp. 65-66. For the corresponding fables in La Fontaine see the notes to the text of the present edition.

20. See Kaye, II, 371, s. v. "Pride."

21. Aesop Dress'd, pp. 4-5; La Fontaine, "La Grenouille qui se veut aussi grosse que le Boeuf," I. iii.

22. Aesop Dress'd, pp. 25-27.

23. Ibid., pp. 27-33.

NOTES TO THE TEXT

For each of Mandeville's fables except "The Carp" and "The Nightingale and Owl," which are originals, I have indicated below the original in La Fontaine's Fables by title, book, and number.

1. "The Two Dragons": "Le Dragon à plusieurs Têtes, et le Dragon à plusieurs Queues," I. xii.

2. "The Wolf and Dog": "Le Loup et le Chien," I. v.

3. "The Frog": "La Grenouille qui se veut faire aussi grosse que le Boeuf," I. iii.

4. "The Pumkin and Acorn": "Le Gland et la Citrouille," IX. iv.

5. "The Hands, Feet, and Belly": "Les Membres et l'Estomac," III. ii.

6. "The Countryman and the Knight": "Le Jardinier et son Seigneur," IV. iv.

7. "The Plague among the Beasts": "Les Animaux malades de la Peste," VII. i.

8. "The Grasshopper and Ant": "La Cigale et la Fourmi," I. i.

9. "The Milk Woman": "La Laitière et le Pot au Lait," VI. x.

10. "The Cock, the Cat, and the young Mouse": "Le Cochet, le Chat, et le Souriceau," VI. v.

11. "The Cock and Pearl": "Le Coq et la Perle," I. xx.

12. "The Lyon's Court": "La Cour du Lion," VII. vii.

13. "The Drunkard and his Wife": "L'Ivrogne et sa Femme," III. vii.

14. "Council held by the Rats": "Conseil tenu par les Rats," II. ii.

15. "The Bat and the Two Weasels": "La Chauve-Souris et les deux Belettes," II. v.

16. "The two Bitches": "La Lice et sa Compagne," II. vii.

17. "The Sick Lyon and the Fox": "Le Lion malade et le Renard," VI. xiv.

18. "The Satyr and the Passenger": "Le Satyre et le Passant," V. vii.

19. "The Lyon in Love": "Le Lion amoureux," IV. i.

20. "The Angler and the Little Carp": "Le petit Poisson et le Pêcheur," V. iii.

21. "The Wolves and the Sheep": "Les Loups et les Brebis," III. xiii.

22. "The Wasps and Bees": "Les Frelons et les Mouches à Miel," I. xxi.

23. "The Lyon and the Gnat": "Le Lion et le Moucheron," II. ix.

24. "The Woodcleaver and Mercury": "Le Bûcheron et Mercure," V. i.

25. "The Hare and his Ears": "Les Oreilles du Lièvre," V. iv.

26. "The Rat and the Frog": "La Grenouille et le Rat," IV. xi.

27. "The Cat and an old Rat": "Le Chat et un vieux Rat," III. xviii.

28. "The Weasel and the Rat": "La Belette entrée dans un Grenier," III. xvii.

29. "The Wolf and the Stork": "Le Loup et la Cicogne," III. ix.

30. "The Frogs asking for a King": "Les Grenouilles qui demandent un Roi," III. iv.

31. "The Wolf and the Lamb": "Le Loup et l'Agneau," I. x.

32. "The Lyon grown old": "Le Lion devenu vieux," III. xiv.

33. "The two Physicians": "Les Médecins," V. xii.

34. "Love and Folly": "L'Amour et la Folie," XII. xiv.

35. "A She-Goat, a Sheep and a Sow": "Le Cochon, la Chèvre, et le Mouton," VIII. xii.

36. "The Dog and the Ass": "L'Âne et le Chien," VIII. xvii.

37. "The Fox and Wolf": "Le Loup et le Renard," XI. vi.

Text

The text of Aesop Dress'd here

reprinted is that in the Harvard

University Library.

ÆSOP Dress'd;

OR A

COLLECTION

OF

FABLES

Writ in Familiar Verse.

By B. Mandeville, M. D.

LONDON:

Sold at Lock's-Head adjoyning to Ludgate.

Price One Shilling.

The INDEX.

The two Dragons

Page       1

The Wolf and Dog

2

The Frog

4

The Pumkin And Acorn

5

The Hands, and Feet, and Belly

7

The Countryman and the Knight

10

The Plague among the Beasts

14

The Grashopper and Ant

17

The Milk Woman

18

The Cock, the Cat, and the young Mouse

20

The Cock and Pearl

22

The Lyon's Court

23

The Drunkard and his Wife

24

The Carp

25

The Nightingale and Owl

27

Council held by the Rats

34

The Bat and the two Weasels

36

The two Bitches

37

The Sick Lyon and the Fox

38

The Satyr and the Passenger

40

The Lyon in Love

41

The Angler and the little Carp

43

The Wolves and the Sheep

44

The Wasps and the Bees

46

The Lyon and Knat

48

The Woodcleaver and Mercury

50

The Hare and his Ears

52

The Rat and the Frog

53

The Cat and old Rat

56

The Weasel and the Rat

59

The Wolf and the Stork

60

The Frogs asking for a King

62

The Wolf and Lamb

64

The Lyon grown old

65

The two Physicians

66

Love and Folly

67

A She-Goat, a Sheep, and a Sow

69

The Dog and Ass

71

The Fox and Wolf

73

THE

PREFACE to the READER.

Prefaces and Cuts are commonly made use of much to the same Purpose; to set off, and to explain. The latter, being too expensive, are pretty well out of date, in an Age, where there are abundance of fine things to be bought besides Books. But the first by wicked Custom, are become so necessary, that a Volume would look as defective without one, as if it wanted the very Title Page. Though it is hard I should be compelled to talk to my Reader, whether I have any thing to say to him or not. Nay, what is worse, every Body thinks a Man should be more lavish here of his Skill and Learning, than anywhere else: Here they would have him shew his Airs, and therefore most Authors adorn their Prefaces, as if they were triumphal Arches; there's nothing empty to be seen about 'em, and from top to bottom they are to be crowded with Emblems and pretty Sayings, judiciously interwoven with Scraps of Latin; though they should borrow 'em from the Parson of the Parish. These, I say, are the Entertainments where they love to glut us with Wit and fine Language; though they starve us for ever after: Which makes some of 'em look like a rich piece of Fillegrew Work over the Door of an empty Parlour. But I am resolved my Portico shall suit with the rest of the House, and, as every thing is plain within, nothing shall be carv'd or gilt without: Besides, I hate formality, Good Reader, and all my Business with you is to let you know, that I have writ some Fables in Verse, after the Familiar Way of a Great Man in France, Monsieur de la Fontaine. I have confin'd my self to strict Numbers, and endeavour'd to make 'em free and natural; if they prove otherwise, I'm sorry for it. Two of the Fables are of my own Invention; but I am so far from loving 'em the better, that I think they are the worst in the Pack: And therefore in good Manners to my self I conceal their Names. Find 'em out, and welcome. I could wish to have furnish'd you with something more worthy your precious time: But as you'll find nothing very Instructive, so there's little to puzzle your Brain. Besides, I desire every Body to read 'em at the same Hours I writ 'em, that's when I had nothing else to do. If any like these Trifles, perhaps I may go on; if not, you shall be troubled with no more of 'em: And so fare ye well Reader.

The TWO DRAGONS. A Fable.

Not long ago th' Ambassador

From the great Turk to the Emperor,

Extoll'd his Master's strength, beyond

The German Force; a Courtier, fond

Of his own Country, boastingly

Said, his Imperial Majesty

Had many Princes under him,

So powerful, that each of 'em,

Could raise an Army of his own,

And more than one that wore a Crown.

I know, says th' other, very well,

Your Dukes and Pow'rs Electoral,

With others, that advance the glory

Of th' Empire. But I'll tell y' a story:

I dreamt I saw a frightful Beast,

That had a hundred Heads at least;

At first I startled at the sight;

But soon recovering from my Fright,

I ventured on, and coming near it,

I found I had no cause to fear it:

For every Head did what it would;

Some work'd with all the Force they could;

But most of 'em lay of a heap,

And look'd as if th' been asleep;

Others, in hopes of better Prey,

Were pulling quite another way.

I turn'd my Head about, and spied

A mighty Beast, on the other side:

One Head adorn'd his Brawny Neck;

But hundred Tails did close his Back;

And as the Heads march'd o'er the Land,

The Tails did follow at Command;

Did Execution every where;

I waked, and thought the Monsters were

Both Empires; but the Tails are ours,

And all the glorious Heads are yours.

The Wolf and Dog.

A Wolf so pitious poor and thin,

His very Bones stuck through his Skin,

(A sign the Dogs were watchful) met

A sturdy Mastiff, slick and fat.

Sir Wolf, revengeful on his Foes,

Had murder'd him, as one of those

That hinder'd him from stealing Cattle;

But was afraid of joyning Battle

With one, that look'd, as if he could

Stand buff, and make his party good.

And therefore in an humble way

He gives the Dog the time o'th' Day;

Talks mighty complaisant, and vents

A Waggon Load of Compliments

Upon his being in such a Case,

His brawny Flank and jolly Face.

Sir Wolf, replies the Mastiff, you

May be as fat as any Doe,

If you'll but follow my advice;

For Faith, I think you are unwise,

To ramble up and down a Wood,

Where's nothing to be had, that's good,

No Elemosynary meat,

Or e'er a bit, that's good to eat,

But what is got by downright force,

For which at last you pay in course.

And thus yourselves, your hagged Wives

And Children lead but wretched lives;

Always in fear of being caught,

Till commonly y'are starv'd or shot.

Quoth Wolf, shew me a livelyhood,

And then, the Devil take the Wood:

I stand in need of better Diet,

And would be glad to feed in quiet:

But, pray, What's to be done, an't please ye?

Nothing, but what is very easy;

To bark at Fellows that look poor,

Fright pilfring Strolers from the Door;

And then, which is the chiefest matter,

To wag your Tail, to coax and flatter

Those of the Family; for this

They'll give you hundred Niceties,

As Chicken Bones, boyl'd Loins of Mutton,

As good as ever Tooth was put in,

The licking of a greasy Dish,

And all the Dainties Heart can wish;

Besides, the Master shall caress ye,

Spit in your Mouth, and——Heaven bless ye.

Good Sir, let's go immediately,

Reply'd the Wolf, and wept for Joy.

They went; and tho' they walk'd apace,

The Wolf spy'd here and there a Place

About the Neck of Mastiff, where,

It seems, his Curship lost some Hair,

And said, pray Brother Dog, What's this?

Nothing. Nay, tell me, what it is;

It looks like gall'd. Perhaps 'tis from

My Collar. Then, I find, at home

They tie you. Yes. I'm not inclin'd to't,

Or goes it loose when y'have a Mind to't,

Truely not always; but what's that?

What's that! quoth he; I smell a Rat;

My Liberty is such a Treasure,

I'll change it for no Earthly Pleasure;

At that his Wolfship fled, and so

Is flying still for ought I know.

The Frog.

A Frog threw his ambitious Eyes

Upon an Ox, admired his size,

And, from the smallness of an Egg,

Endeavoured to become as big.

He swells himself, and puffs, and blows,

And every foot, cries there he goes.

Well, Brother, have I bulk enough,

An't I as large, as he? What stuff!

Pray look again. The Dev'l a bit.

Then now. You don't come near him yet.

Again he swells, and swells so fast,

Till, straining more, he bursts at last.

So full of Pride is every Age!

A Citizen must have a Page,

A Petty Prince Ambassadors,

And Tradesmens Children Governours;

A Fellow, that i'n't worth a Louse,

Still keeps his Coach and Country-house;

A Merchant swell'd with haughtiness,

Looks ten times bigger than he is;

Buys all, and draws upon his Friend,

As if his Credit had no end;

At length he strains with so much Force,

Till, like the Frog, he bursts in course,

And, by his empty Skin you find,

That he was only fill'd with Wind.

The Pumkin and Acorn.

A Self conceited Country Bumkin

Thus made his glosses on a Pumkin.

The Fruit, says he, is very big,

The Stalk not thicker than a Twig,

Scarce any Root, great Leaves; I wonder,

Dame Nature should make such a blunder:

Had I been she, I would have plac'd it

On yon high Oak, and 'twould have grac'd it

Better than Acorns; its a whim

A little Shrub would do for them;

Why should a Tree so tall and fine,

Bear small stuff only fit for Swine?

But hundred things are made in waste,

Which shews the World was fram'd in haste.

Had I been sent for in those Days,

'Twould have been managed otherwise:

I would have made all of a suit,

And large Trees should have had large Fruit.

Thus he went on, and in his Eyes,

The Simpleton was very wise;

A little after, coming nigh

An Oak, whose Crown was very high,

He liked the Place and down he laid

His weary Carcass, in the Shade:

But, as the find-fault Animal

Turn'd on his Back, an Acorn fell,

And hit his Nose a swinging Blow.

Good God was this the Pumkin now!

The very thought on't struck him dumb:

He prais'd his Maker, and went home.

The Moral.

The World's vast Fabrick is so well

Contrived by its Creator's Skill;

There's nothing in't, but what is good

To him, by whom its understood;

And what opposes Human Sence,

Shews but our Pride and Ignorance.

The Hands, Feet, and Belly.

The Hands and Feet in Council met,

Were mightily upon the Fret,

And swore 'twas something more than hard,

Always to work without reward.

The Feet said, truly its a Jest,

That we should carry all the rest;

March at all Hours thro thick and thin,

With Shoes that let the Water in;

Our Nails are hard as Bullock's Horns,

Our Toes beset with plaguy Corns;

We rais'd four Blisters th' other Night,

And yet got not a farthing by't.

Brothers, reply'd the Hands, 'tis true,

We know what hardship's y' undergo;

But then w' are greater Slaves than you;

For tho' all day we scrape and rake,

And labour till our Fringers ake;

Tho' we've been ply'd at every thing;

Yet then, without considering

What pains or weariness we feel,

W'are forced to serve at every meal,

And often, whilst you're set at ease,

Drudge to the Knucles up in Grease;

As for your Corns and Nails in troth,

We have the trouble of cutting both.

Take this not, Brothers, in a sence,

That might create a Difference;

We only hinted it, to shew

We're full as badly us'd as you;

Our Grievances are general,

And caused by him that swallows all;

The ungrateful Belly is our bane,

Whom with our labour we maintain;

The ill natured'st Rogue, that e'er was fed,

The lazy'st Dog, that lives by Bread.

For him we starve; for what d'ye think

Becomes of all the Meat and Drink?

'Tis he, that makes us look so thin,

To stretch his everlasting Skin;

Tho' we do all his Business,

What did he ever give to us?

And therefore let my Lord Abdomen

Say what he will, we'll work for no Man.

Nay if we scratch him tho' he itches,

Calls us a hundred Sons of Bitches.

And, if you do the same, you'll see, }

He'll quickly be as lean as we; }

What say ye, Brothers, do y' agree? }

Yes, says the Feet, and he be curst,

That dares to think of stirring first.

And thus the Rebels disobey;

Who swear they'll now keep Holy-day,

Resolv'd to live like Gentlemen.

His Gutship calls and calls again,

They answer'd they would toil no more;

But rest as he had done before:

But soon the Mutineers repent; }

The Belly when his Stock was spent, }

Could not send down the Nourishment, }

That's requisite for every part;

The weakness seiz'd the drooping Heart:

Till all the Members suffer'd by't,

And languished in a woeful plight:

They saw, when 'twas too late, how he,

Whom they accused of Gluttony,

Of Laziness, Ingratitude, }

Had labour d for the common Good, }

By ways they never understood. }

The Moral.

The Belly is the Government,

From whence the Nourishment is sent,

Of wholesome Laws for mutual Peace,

For Plenty, Liberty, and Ease,

To all the Body Politick,

Which where it fails the Nation's sick.

The Members are the discontent

Pleibeians; that are ignorant,

How necessary for the State

It is, that Princes should be great:

Which, if their Pomp and Pow'r were less,

Could not preserve our Happiness.

The Vulgar think all Courts to be

But Seats of Sloth and Luxury;

Themselves, but Slaves compell'd to bear

The Taxes, and the Toils of War;

But in this Fable they may see

The dismal Fruits of Mutiny;

Whilst Subjects, that assist the Crown,

But labour to maintain their own.

The Countryman and the Knight.

An honest Countryman had got

Behind his House a pretty Spot,

Of Garden Ground, with all what might

Contribute to the Taste and Sight,

The Rose and Lilly, which have been

Still kept to compliment the Skin,

Poppies renown'd for giving ease,

With Roman Lettice, Endive, Pease,

And Beans, which Nat'ralists do reckon

To be so ominous to Bacon.

The Beds were dung'd, the Walks well swept,

And every thing was nicely kept.

Only a Hare wou'd now and then

Spite of the Master and the Men

Make raking work for half a day,

Then fill her Gut and scow'r away.

In vain they beat and search the Ground,

The cunning Jilt can ne'er be found,

The Master once in angry Mood }

Starts up and swears by all that's good, }

He'd be revenged, that he would. }

Runs to a Country Knight his Neighbour,

And there complains how all his labour

Was spoil'd by one confounded Hare,

Which though the'd watch'd her every where

He nor his People ne'er could catch,

And of a certain was a Witch.

His Worship smiles and promises

To rid him of the Sawcy Puss.

At break of Day Jack winds his Horn,

The Beagles scamper thro' the Corn;

Deep mouth'd Curs set up a Cry,

And make a cursed Symphony.

Now stir you Rogues; the Knight is come

With Robin, Lightfoot, Dick and Tom.

The House is full of Dogs and Boys,

And ev'ry where's a horrid Noise,

Well, Landlord, Come, What shall we do?

Must w' eat a Bit before we go?

What have you got? Now all's fetch'd out,

The Victuals rak'd, and tore about.

One pairs the Loaf, another Groom }

Draws Beer, as if he was at home, }

And spils it half about the Room. }

What Horseman's yonder at the Door?

Why, Faith, there's half a dozen more:

They're Gentlemen, that live at Court,

Come down the Country for some Sport;

Some old Acquaintance of the Knight,

Who whips from Table, bids 'em light.

They ask no Questions but sit down,

Fall too as if it was their own.

One finishes the Potted Salmon,

Then swears, because he had no Lemon.

Good Lord, how sharp the Rogues are set!

It puts my Landlord in a Sweat.

His Daughter comes with fresh Supplies

Of Collard Beef, and Apple-pies.

His Worship falls aboard of her;

The modest Creature quakes for fear.

When do we marry Mistress Ann?

Who is to be the happy Man?

He takes her Hand, and chucks her Chin,

Stares in her Face, commends her Skin,

Removes her Linnen, shews her Neck;

There's Milk, and Blood, Gad take me Jack.

She blushes, and he vows she is

A pretty Girl, then takes a Kiss;

She don't consent, nor dares deny,

Defends herself respectfully;

And now the Knight would let her go; }

Another Rake cries, Damme no: }

I'll have a Kiss as well as you. }

He hugs her close, then calls her Dear,

And whispers bawdy in her Ear.

My charming Rogue, I would not hurt ye.

She answers not, but drops a Courtsie.

He's rude, and she's asham'd to squeak;

Her Father sees it, dares not speak;

But patiently enduring all,

Stands like a Statue in the Hall.

Now for the Garden and the Hare,

The Dogs get in, and scrape and tear,

The Horsemen follow, leap the Rails;

Down goes the Quick-set-hedge, and Pales.

The Huntsman hollows, runs and pushes,

All goes to Rack, the Borders, Bushes.

And now my Landlord cries amain,

You've ruin'd me; but all in vain.

The Cabbages are kick'd about,

And Flowers with Roots and all pull'd out.

The Beds are levell'd with the Ground,

At last poor trembling Puss is found

Hid underneath a Collyflower.

The Prey is took, away they scower,

And leave our Countryman to think

On all his Loss of Meat and Drink:

What havock's made in ev'ry place,

His Daughter wrong'd before his Face.

Small was the Mischief of the Hare

To ravenous Hunters to compare.

He wrings his Hands, and all in Tears

Repents his foolish rashness, swears,

He'll ne'er call help again in haste,

Since Hounds and Horses made more waste,

In half an hour, than all the Hares

Of th' Country could in Seven Years.

The Moral.

When petty Princes can't agree,

And strive for Superiority,

They often take my Landlord's Course,

Invite for Aid a foreign Force;

And when their Subjects Slaves are made,

Their Countries all in ruins laid,

As commonly it proves their fate,

Repent with him when it's too late.

The Plague among the Beasts.

One time a mighty Plague did pester

All Beasts Domestick and Sylvester,

They try'd a world of Remedies;

But none that conquer'd the Disease:

And, as in the Calamity

All did not dye, so none were free.

The Lyon in this Consternation

Sends by his Royal Proclamation

To all his loving Subjects greeting,

And summons 'em t' a general Meeting;

And when they're come about his Den,

He says, my Lords and Gentlemen,

I believe you're met full of the Sence

Of this consuming Pestilence;

Sure such extraordinary Punishment

On common Crimes was never sent;

Therefore it took its derivation,

Not from the trivial Sence of the Nation;

But some notorious Wickedness; }

Then let us search our Consciences, }

And ev'ry one his Faults confess. }

We'll judge the biggest and the least,

And he that is the wicked'st Beast

Shall as a Sacrifice be giv'n,

T'allay the wrath of angry Heav'n,

And serve our Sins an expiation

By ancient way of Immolation;

And, since no one is free from Sin,

Thus with my own I'll first begin.

I've kill'd an Ox, and which is worse,

Committed Murder on a Horse;

And one Day, as I am a Sinner,

I have eat seven Pigs for Dinner,

Robb'd Woods, and Fens, and like a Glutton,

Fed on whole Flocks of Lamb and Mutton:

Nay sometimes, for 'tis in vain to lie,

The Shepherd went for Company.

This was his Speech; when Chanc'lor Fox

Cries out, what signifies an Ox,

Or Horse? Sure those unworthy things

Are honour'd, when made sport for Kings.

But, Sir, your Conscience is too nice,

Hunting's a Princely Exercise:

As for the Sheep, that foolish Cattle,

Not fit for Carriage nor for Battle,

And being tolerable Meat,

Are good for nothing, but to eat.

The shepherd your sworn Enemy

Deserv'd no better Destiny.

Thus was he, that had sin'd for Twenty,

Clear'd Nemine Contradicente.

The Bear, the Tyger, Beasts that fight,

And all that could but scratch or bite

Came off well; for their gross Abuses

Others as bad found Excuses.

Nay even the Cat of wicked Nature

That kills at play his Fellow Creature

Went scot free: But his Gravity

An Ass of stupid Memory

Confess'd, that, going to Sturbridge-Fair

His Back most broke with Wooden-ware,

He chanc'd half starv'd, and faint, to pass

By a Church-yard with exc'lent Grass,

They had forgot to shut the Gate,

He ventur'd in, stoop'd down and ate.

Hold, cries Judge Wolf, no more, for Crimes

As these, deserve such fatal Times.

By several Acts of Parliament

'Tis Sacriledge, they all consent;

And thus the silly virtuous Ass

Was Sacrifis'd for eating Grass.

The Moral.

The Fable shews you poor Folk's fate

Whilst Laws can never reach the Great.

The Grasshopper and Ant.

A Merry Grasshopper, that sung

And tun'd it all the Summer long,

Fed on small Flies, and had no Reason

To have sad thoughts the gentler Season;

For when 'twas hot the Wind at South,

The Victuals flew into his Mouth:

But when the Winters cold came on,

He found he was as much undone,

As any Insect under Heav'n;

And now the hungry Songster's driv'n

To such a state, no Man can know it,

But a Musician or a Poet,

He makes a Visit to an Ant,

Desires he would relieve his want;

I come not in a begging way, }

Says he, No Sir, name but a day }

In July next, and I'll repay, }

Your Interest and your Principal

Shall both be ready at a Call.

The thrifty Ant says truly Neighbour,

I get my Living by hard Labour;

But you, that in this Storm came hither,

What have you done when 'twas fair Weather?

I've sung, replies the Grasshopper;

Sung! says the Ant, your Servant, Sir;

If you have sung away the best

Of all the Year, go dance the rest.

The Milk Woman.

A Straping Dame, a going to Town

To sell her Milk with thin Stuff Gown,

And Coats tuck'd up fit for a Race,

Marches along a swinging Pace:

And in her Thoughts already counts

The Price to which her Milk amounts;

She fancies all is sold, and lays

The Money out a hundred ways;

At last she's fix'd, and thinks it plain,

That Eggs would bring the surest Gain:

She buys a hundred, which she reckons

Will four Weeks hence be six Score Chickens.

Such mighty care she takes to rear 'em,

No Fox or Kite can e'er come near 'em,

The finest Hens are kept for Eggs;

The others sold to buy some Piggs;

To whom a little Bran she gives

With Turnep-tops and Cabbage leaves;

And tho' they get no Pease to speak on,

Yet in short time they're sold for Bacon.

O! how the Money pleas'd her Thought

For which a Cow and Calf are bought;

She'll have 'em on the Common kept,

There see 'em jump, at that she leapt

For joy; down comes the Pail, and now

Good Night t'ye Chickens, Calf and Cow,

Eggs, Bacon; all her busy care,

With them are dwindled into Air.

She looks with Sorrow on the Ground,

And Milk, in which her Fortune's drown'd:

Then carries home the doleful News,

And strives to make the best Excuse:

Her Husband greets her with a Curse,

And well it was she far'd no worse.

The Hermit, and the Man of Fame,

Pompeus, and our Country Dame,

The wisest Judge, and my Lord May'r,

They all build Castles in the Air:

And all a secret Pleasure take

In dreaming whilst they are awake:

Pleas'd with our Fancies we possess

Friends, Honour, Women, Palaces.

When I'm alone I dare defy

Mankind for Wit and Bravery.

I beat the French in half an Hour,

Get all their Cities in my Power.

Sometimes I'm pleas'd to be a King,

That has success in every thing,

And just when all the World's my own,

Comes one to dun me for a Crown;

And presently I am the poor,

And idle Dunce I was before.

The Cock, the Cat, and the young Mouse.

A Mouse of no Experience

Was almost nabb'd for want of Sence.

Hear how the silly young one told

Her strange Adventure to the old.

I cross'd the Limits of our State,

And ran as swift as any Rat;

When suddenly I spy'd two Creatures

Of very different Form and Features.

The one look'd smiling, milde, and Civil,

The other was a very Devil;

He look'd so fierce, made such a rout,

Then tore the Ground, then turn'd about;

He ne'er stood still, upon his Head

He wore a piece of Flesh that's red;

A bunch of Tails with green and black

Stood staring higher than his back.

And thus describes the simple Mouse

A Cock he had seen behind the House,

As had it been some Beast of Prey

Brought over from America.

With insolence, says he, he strides,

And beats with his broad Arms his sides;

Then lifts his shrill and frightful Voice,

And made so terrible a Noise,

That tho' I can assure you, Mother,

I've as much Courage as another,

I trembled, and as I am here,

Was forc'd to fly away for fear.

I curs'd the Bully in my thought;

For 'twas that strutting Ruffi'n's Fault;

Or else that other Beast and I

Had been acquainted presently.

He sat so quiet with such Grace,

So much good Nature in his Face,

He's furr'd like we, and on his Back

So purely streak'd with gray and black;

He has a long Tail, shining Eye,

Yet is all over Modesty.

I believe he is a near Relation

To our Allies the Rattish Nation:

His Ears and Whiskers are the same

With ours, I would have ask'd his Name,

When with his harsh and horrid sound

The other made me quit my Ground.

Replies the Mother, well 'scap'd Son,

You have been very near undone;

That formal Piece of Modesty,

That Mirror of Hypocrisy,

Was a damn'd Cat of wicked Fame;

My Heart akes at the very Name,

The everlasting Foe to Mouse,

Death and Destruction to our House.

Whereas that other Animal

Ne'er did us hurt, nor never will;

But may, when he is dead and gone,

Serve us one Day to dine upon.

Then prithee son, whate'er you do,

Take special Care of him, whom you

For such an humble Creature took,

And judge not People by their Look.

The Cock and Pearl.

A Cock, not very nicely fed,

A Dunghill raker by his Trade,

Whilst scraping in the dirt, had found

A Pearl worth Five and Twenty Pound:

He goes hard by t' a Jeweller,

And like a silly Dog, says Sir,

In yonder Rubbish lay a bit

Of something that in't good to eat,

If you think it will serve your turn,

I'll change it for a grain of Corn.

Nay sometimes Men will do as bad,

I've known a foolish Heir, that had

A Manuscript of Wit and Labour,

Say to a Bookseller his Neighbour,

I've got some Sheets my Uncle writ,

They say he was a Man of Wit,

But Books are things I don't much matter,

A Crown would do my Business better.

The Lyon's Court.

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 Vertebræ.

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.

The Fox went on the search one Night,

The Moon had hung out all her light;

He sees her Image in a Well;

But what it was he could not tell;

Gets on the Bricks to look at ease:

At last concludes it is a Cheese:

One Bucket's down, the other up,

He jumps in that which was a-top,

And coming to the Water, sees

How little Skill he had in Cheese.

Poor Ren, remov'd from all Acquaintance,

Sits in the Bucket of Repentance;

And when the Rascal ought to have laid

The fault upon himself, it's said,

He blam'd his Stars, tho' I b'lieve rather

He curst the Moon, and all fair Weather.

Well, there he sat, and wish'd, no doubt on't,

For half his Tail that he was out on't:

Sometimes he rav'd and talk'd like mad, }

And every thing came in his Head, }

That to his purpose could be said. }

Happy are those that don't love Cheese;

We may go downward when we please,

But to come back again, hoc opus,

All tricks are vain; my only hope is,

That Somebody as wise as I,

Hits on my Whim, or else I die.

Two Days are past; poor Animal,

Sees Nobody come near the Well;

And now old Time had in one Place,

Cut a good piece of Cynthia's Face;

For as he does all things, he eats her,

And takes a slice, where'er he meets her:

Volpone spies it, and it grieved him,

To see that spoil'd which had deceiv'd him,

Thinking his case was desperate:

When on the third Night pretty late,

A Wolf who could not sleep, because

He felt an itching in his Jaws,

Look'd into it; What are you there?

Says Ren; pray see what I got here;

It is a groaning Cheese, 'twas made

From Io's Milk, and Faunus had

The ordering of it, 'twould have been

Kept for Dame Juno's Lying in,

But she miscarry'd: I took off

This Corner; still there's Meat enough

For two or three, I thought on you,

Wish'd I might see you, and to shew,

How I esteem, love, and adore ye,

That Bucket's left on purpose for ye.

The silly Wolf believes, gets in,

And draws Volpene up again.

The Moral.

Don't blame the stupid Animal,

You credit things less probable;

And most Men easily give ear,

To what they either wish or fear.

F I N I S.

THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY

University of California, Los Angeles

PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT

1948-1949

15. John Oldmixon, Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley ... (1712) and A. Mainwaring's The British Academy ... (1712).

17. Nicholas Rowe, Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespeare (1709).

1949-1950

22. Samuel Johnson, The Vanity of Human Wishes (1749) and two Rambler papers (1750).

23. John Dryden, His Majesties Declaration Defended (1681).

1950-1951

26. Charles Macklin, The Man of the World (1792).

1951-1952

31. Thomas Gray, An Elegy Wrote in a Country Churchyard (1751); and The Eton College Manuscript.

1960-1961

85-6. Essays on the Theatre from Eighteenth-Century Periodicals. 90. Henry Needler, Works (1728).

1961-1962

93. John Norris, Cursory Reflections Upon a Book Call'd, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1960)

94. An. Collins, Divine Songs and Meditacions (1653).

95. An Essay on the New Species of Writing Founded by Mr. Fielding (1751).

96. Hanoverian Ballads.

1962-1963

97. Myles Davies, Selections from Athenae Britannicae (1716-1719).

98. Select Hymns Taken Out of Mr. Herbert's Temple (1697).

99. Simon Patrick, A Brief Account of the New Sect of Latitude Men (1662).

100. Simon Patrick, A Brief Account of the New Sect of Latitude Men (1662).

101-2. Richard Hurd, Letters on Chivalry and Romance (1762).

1963-1964

103. Samuel Richardson, Clarissa: Preface, Hints of Prefaces, and Postscript.

104. Thomas D'Urfey, Wonders in the Sun, or, the Kingdom of the Birds (1706).

105. Bernard Mandeville, An Enquiry into the Causes of the Frequent Executions at Tyburn (1725).

106. Daniel Defoe, A Brief History of the Poor Palatine Refugees (1709).

107-8. John Oldmixon, An Essay on Criticism (1728).

1964-1965

109. Sir William Temple, An Essay upon the Original and Nature of Government (1680).

110. John Tutchin, Selected Poems (1685-1700).

111. Anonymous, Political Justice. A Poem (1736).

112. Robert Dodsley, An Essay on Fable (1764).

113. T. R., An Essay Concerning Critical and Curious Learning (1680).

114. Two Poems Against Pope: Leonard Welsted, One Epistle to Mr. A. Pope (1730); Anonymous, The Blatant Beast (1740).

William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California, Los Angeles

THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

General Editors: Earl Miner, University of California, Los Angeles; Maximillian E. Novak, University

of California, Los Angeles; Lawrence Clark Powell, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library

Corresponding Secretary: Mrs. Edna C. Davis, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library

The Society's purpose is to publish reprints (usually facsimile reproductions) of rare seventeenth and eighteenth century works. All income of the Society is devoted to defraying costs of publication and mailing.

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PUBLICATIONS FOR 1965-1966

THOMAS TRAHERNE, Meditations on the Six Days of the Creation (1717). Introduction by George Robert Guffey.

CHARLES MACKLIN, The Covent Garden Theatre [manuscript] (1752). Introduction by Jean B. Kern.

ROGER L'ESTRANGE, Citt and Bumpkin (1680). Introduction by B. J. Rahn.

DANIEL DEFOE and Others, Accounts of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal (ca. 1705). Introduction by Manuel Schonhorn.

HENRY MORE, Enthusiasmus Triumphatus (1662). Introduction by M. V. DePorte.

BERNARD MANDEVILLE, Aesop Dress'd or a Collection of Fables Writ in Familiar Verse (1704). Introduction by John S. Shea.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

The Society announces a special publication, a reprint of JOHN OGILBY, The Fables of Aesop Paraphras'd in Verse (1668), with an Introduction by Earl Miner. Ogilby's book is commonly thought one of the finest examples of seventeenth-century bookmaking and is illustrated with eighty-one plates. Publication is assisted by funds from the Chancellor of the University of California, Los Angeles. Price: to members of the Society, $2.50; to non-members, $4.00.

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Table of Contents

Æsop Dress'd OR A COLLECTION OF Fables

WRIT IN FAMILIAR VERSE (1704)

INTRODUCTION BY JOHN S. SHEA

1966

GENERAL EDITORS

ADVISORY EDITORS

CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

INTRODUCTION

NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION

NOTES TO THE TEXT

Text

ÆSOP Dress'd;

OR A

COLLECTION

OF

FABLES

Writ in Familiar Verse. By B. Mandeville, M. D.

The INDEX.

THE Preface to the Reader.

The Two Dragons. A Fable.

The Wolf and Dog.

The Frog.

The Pumkin and Acorn.

The Hands, Feet, and Belly.

The Countryman and the Knight.

The Plague among the Beasts.

The Grasshopper and Ant.

The Milk Woman.

The Cock, the Cat, and the young Mouse.

The Cock and Pearl.

The Lyon's Court.

The Drunkard and his Wife.

The Carp.

The Nightingale and Owl.

Council held by the Rats.

The Bat and the two Weasels.

The two Bitches.

The Sick Lyon and the Fox.

The Satyr and the Passenger.

The Lyon in Love.

The Angler and the little Carp.

The Wolves and the Sheep.

The Wasps and Bees.

The Lyon and the Gnat.

The Woodcleaver and Mercury.

The Hare and his Ears.

The Rat and the Frog.

The Cat and an old Rat.

The Weasel and the Rat.

The Wolf and the Stork.

The Frogs asking for a King.

The Wolf and the Lamb.

The Lyon grown old.

The two Physicians.

Love and Folly.

A She-Goat, a Sheep and a Sow.

The Dog and the Ass.

The Fox and Wolf.

F I N I S.

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WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY University of California, Los Angeles

PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT

William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California, Los Angeles

The Augustan Reprint Society

General Editors: Earl Miner, University of California, Los Angeles; Maximillian E. Novak, University of California, Los Angeles; Lawrence Clark Powell, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library Corresponding Secretary: Mrs. Edna C. Davis, Wm. Andrews Clark Memorial Library

THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY William Andrews Clark Memorial Library 2205 WEST ADAMS BOULEVARD, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90018

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