your Eyes: Besides, my Interest is concern'd; his Power alarms me.
I know throughout the Kingdom he's the Scourge of evil Magistrates,
turns out Governors when they turn Tyrants; breaks Officers for false
Musters; excludes Judges from giving Sentence, when they have been
absent during the Trial; hangs Lawyers when they take Fees on both
Sides; forbids Physicians to take Money of those they don't cure. 'Tis
true, my Innocence ought to banish my Fears: But my Government, Child,
is too delicious a Morsel, not to set many a frail Mouth a-watering.
Who knows what Accusations Envy may produce? But all wou'd be secure,
if thou could'st touch the Heart of _Esop_. Let me blow up thy
Ambition, Girl; the Fire of that will make thy Eyes sparkle at him.
[_She sighs._]----What's that Sigh for, now? Ha! A young Husband, by
my Conscience: Ah Daughter, hadst thou a young Husband, he'd make thee
sigh indeed. I'll tell thee what he's compos'd of. He has a Wig full of
Pulvilio, a Pocket full of Dice, a Heart full of Treason, a Mouth full
of Lyes, a Belly full of Drink, a Carcase full of Plaisters, a Tail
full of Pox, and a Head full of----nothing. There's his Picture: wear
it at thy Heart, if thou can'st but here comes one of greater Worth.
_Enter ~Esop~._
_Lear._ Good Morning to my noble Lord; your Excellency----
_Esop._ Softly, good Governor: I'm a poor Wanderer from Place to
Place; too weak to train the Weight of Grandeur with me! The Name of
Excellency's not for me.
_Lear._ My noble Lord, 'tis due to your Imploy; your Predecessors
all----
_Esop._ My Predecessors all deserv'd it, Sir; they were great Men in
Wisdom, Birth and Service; whilst I, a poor, unknown, decrepid Wretch,
mounted aloft for Fortune's Pastime, expect each Moment to conclude the
Farce, by sinking to the Mud from whence I sprung.
_Lear._ Great _Crœsus_'s Gratitude will still support you; his Coffers
all are open to your Will, your future Fortune's wholly in your Power.
_Esop._ But 'tis a Power that I shall ne'er employ.
_Lear._ Why so, my Lord?
_Esop._ I'll tell you, Sir.
_A hungry Goat, who had not eat
Some Nights and Days----(for want of Meat)
Was kindly brought at last,
By Providence's Care,
To better Cheer,
After a more than penitential Fast.
He found a Barn well stor'd with Grain:
To enter in requir'd some Pain;
But a delicious Bait
Makes the Way easy, tho' the Pass is strait.
Our Guest observing various Meats,
He put on a good modish Face,
He takes his Place,
He ne'er says Grace,
But where he likes, he there falls to and eats.
At length, with jaded Teeth and Jaws,
He made a Pause;
And finding still some room,
Fell to as he had done before,
For time to come laid in his Store;
And when his Guts cou'd hold no more,
He thought of going home.
But here he met the Glutton's Curse;
He found his Belly grown so great,
'Twas vain to think of a Retreat,
Till he had render'd all he had eat,
And well he far'd no worse._
To the Application, Governor.
_Lear._ 'Tis easy to be made, my Lord.
_Esop._ I'm glad on't, Truth can never be too clear. [_Seeing
~Euph~._] Is this young Damsel your fair Daughter, Sir?
_Lear._ 'Tis my Daughter, my good Lord: Fair too, if she appears such
in the Eyes of the unerring _Esop_.
_Esop._ [_Going up to salute her._] I never saw so beautiful a Creature.
_Lear._ [_Aside._] Now's the time; kiss soft, Girl, and fire him.
_Esop._ [_Gazing at her._] How partial's Nature 'twixt her Form and
mine!
_Lear._ [_Aside._] Look, look, look, how he gazes at her!----_Cupid_'s
hard at work, I see that already. Slap; there he hits him--if the Wench
would but do her Part. But see, see, how the perverse young Baggage
stands biting her Thumbs, and won't give him one kind Glance----Ah the
sullen Jade! Had it been a handsome strong Dog, of five-and-twenty,
she'd a fall'n a coquetting on't, with every Inch about her. But may be
'tis I that spoils Sport; I'll make a Pretence to leave them together.
Will your Lordship please to drink any Coffee this Morning?
_Esop._ With all my Heart, Governor.
_Lear._ Your Lordship will give me leave to go and order it myself; for
unless I am by, 'tis never perfect.
_Esop._ Provided you leave me this fair Maid in Hostage for your
Return, I consent.
_Lear._ My good Lord does my Daughter too much Honour. Ah that the
Wench wou'd but do her Part! [_Aside going off._]----Hark, you,
Hussy----[_Turning back to ~Euphronia~, aside._]----You can give
yourself Airs sometimes, you know you can. Do you remember what work
you made with yourself at Church t'other Day? Play your Tricks over
again, once more, for my Pleasure, and let me have a good Account of
this Statesman, or, d'ye hear?----You shall die a Maid; go chew upon
that; go.
[_Exit ~Lear~._
_Esop._ Here I am left, fair Damsel, too much expos'd to your Charms,
not to fall your Victim.
_Euph._ Your Fall will then be due to your own Weakness, Sir; for,
Heaven's my Witness, I neither endeavour nor wish to wound you.
_Esop._ I understand you, Lady; your Heart's already dispos'd of; 'tis
seldom otherways, at your Age.
_Euph._ My Heart dispos'd of!
_Dor._ Nay, never mince the Matter, Madam. The Gentleman looks like a
civil Gentleman, e'en confess the Truth to him: He has a good Interest
with your Father, and no Doubt will employ it to break the Heathenish
Match he proposes to you. [_To ~Esop~._] Yes, Sir, my young Lady has
been in love these two Years, and that with as pretty a Fellow as ever
entered a Virgin's Heart; tall, strait, young, vigorous, good Clothes,
long Perriwig, clean Linen; in brief, he has every thing that's
necessary to set a young Lady a-longing, and to stay it when he has
done: but her Father, whose Ambition makes him turn Fool in his old
Age, comes with a back Stroke upon us, and spoils all our Sport. Wou'd
you believe it, Sir? He has propos'd to her to-day the most confounded
ugly Fellow! Look, if the very Thoughts of him don't set the poor Thing
a-crying! And you, Sir, have so much Power with the old Gentleman, that
one Word from you would set us all right again. If he will have her a
Wife, in the Name of _Venus_, let him provide her a handsome Husband,
and not throw her into the Paws of a Thing, that Nature, in a merry
Humour, has made half Man, half Monkey.
_Esop._ Pray, what's this Monster's Name, Lady?
_Euph._ No matter for his Name, Sir; my Father will know what you mean,
at first Word.
_Esop._ But you shou'd not always chuse by the Outside alone: believe
me, fair Damsel, a fine Perriwig keeps many a Fool's Head from the
Weather: Have a Care of your young Gallant.
_Dor._ There's no Danger, I have examin'd him; his Inside's as good as
his out! I say, he has Wit, and I think I know.
_Euph._ Nay, she says true; he's even a Miracle of Wit and Beauty: Did
you but see him, you'd be yourself my Rival.
_Esop._ Then you are resolv'd against the Monster?
_Dor._ Fy, Sir, fy; I wonder you'll put her in Mind of that foul,
frightful Thing: We shall have her dream of nothing all Night but Bats
and Owls, and Toads and Hedge-hogs; and then we shall have such a
squeaking and squalling with her, the whole House will be in an Uproar:
Therefore, pray, Sir, name him no more, but use your Interest with her
Father, that she may never hear of him again.
_Esop._ But if I shou'd be so generous to save you from the old
Gallant, what shall I say for your young one?
_Euph._ O, Sir, you may venture to enlarge upon his Perfections; you
need not fear saying too much in his Praise.
_Dor._ And pray, Sir, be as copious upon the Defects of t'other; you
need not fear out-running the Text there, neither, say the worst you
can.
_Euph._ You may say, the first is the most graceful Man that _Asia_
ever brought forth.
_Dor._ And you may say the latter is the most deform'd Monster that
Copulation ever produc'd.
_Euph._ Tell him that _Oronces_ (for that is his dear Name) has all the
Virtues that compose a perfect Hero.
_Dor._ And tell him, that _Pigmy_ has all the Vices that go to equip an
Attorney.
_Euph._ That to one I cou'd be true to the last Moment of my Life.
_Dor._ That for t'other, she'd cuckold him the very Day of her
Marriage. This, Sir, in few Words, is the Theme you are desir'd to
preach upon.
_Esop._ I never yet had one that furnish'd me with more Matter.
_Enter Servant._
_Ser._ My Lord, there's a Lady below desires to speak with your Honour.
_Esop._ What Lady?
_Ser._ 'Tis my Lady--my Lady--[_To ~Doris~._] The Lady there, the
wise-Lady, the great Scholar, that Nobody can understand.
_Dor._ O ho, is it she? Pray let's withdraw, and oblige her, Madam;
she's ready to swoon at the insipid Sight of one of her own Sex.
_Euph._ You'll excuse us, Sir; we leave you to wiser Company.
[_Exeunt ~Euph~. and ~Dor~._
_Enter ~Hortensia~._
_Hort._ The Deess, who from _Atropos_'s Breast preserves the Names of
Heroes and their Actions, proclaims your Fame throughout this mighty
Orb, and----
_Esop._ [_Aside._] Shield me, my Stars! What have you sent me here? For
Pity's Sake, good Lady, be more humane: My Capacity is too heavy, to
mount to your Style: If you wou'd have me know what you mean, please to
come down to my Understanding.
_Hort._ I've something in my Nature soars too high
For vulgar Flight, I own;
But _Esop_'s Sphere must needs be within Call;
_Esop_ and I may sure converse together:
I know he's modest, but I likewise know
His Intellects are categorical.
_Esop._ Now, by my Faith, Lady, I don't know what _Intellect_ is; and
methinks, _categorical_ sounds as if you call'd me Names. Pray, speak
that you may be understood: Language was design'd for it; indeed it was.
_Hort._ Of vulgar Things in vulgar Phrase we talk;
But when of _Esop_ we must speak,
The Theme's too lofty for an humble Style:
_Esop_ is sure no common Character.
_Esop._ No, truly; I am something particular. Yet if I am not mistaken,
what I have extraordinary about me, may be describ'd in very homely
Language. Here was a young Gentlewoman but just now pencil'd me out to
a Hair, I thought; and yet, I vow to God, the learned'st Word I heard
her make use of, was Monster.
_Hort._ That was a Woman, Sir, a very Woman;
Her Cogitations all were on the outward Man:
But I strike deeper; 'tis the Mind I view.
The Soul's the worthy Object of my Care;
The Soul, that Sample of Divinity, that glorious
Ray of heavenly Light. The Soul, that awful
Throne of Thought, that sacred Seat of Contemplation.
The Soul, that noble Source of Wisdom,
That Fountain of Comfort,
That Spring of Joy, that happy Token of eternal
Life. The Soul, that----
_Esop._ Pray, Lady, are you married?
_Hort._ Why that Question, Sir?
_Esop._ Only that I might wait upon your Husband, to wish him Joy.
_Hort._ When People of my Composition would marry, they first find
something of their own Species to join with; I never could resolve
to take a Thing of common Fabric to my Bed, lest, when his brutish
Inclinations prompt him, he shou'd make me Mother to a Form like his
own.
_Esop._ Methinks, a Lady so extremely nice should be much at a Loss who
to converse with.
_Hort._ I keep my Chamber, and converse with myself; 'tis better being
alone, than to mis-ally one's Conversation: Men are scandalous, and
Women are insipid: Discourse without Figure makes me sick at my Soul:
O the Charms of a Metaphor! What Harmony there is in the Words of
Erudition! The Musick of them is inimaginable.
_Esop._ Will you hear a Fable, Lady?
_Hort._ Willingly, Sir; the Apologue pleases me, when the Application
of it is just.
_Esop._ It is, I'll answer for it.
_Once on a Time a Nightingale,
To Changes prone,
Unconstant, fickle, whimsical,
(A Female one)
Who sung like others of her kind,
Hearing a well-taught Linnet's Airs,
Had other Matters in her Mind.
To imitate him she prepares;
Her Fancy strait was on the Wing:
I fly, quoth she,
As well as he;
I don't know why
I should not try
As well as he to sing.
From that Day forth she chang'd her Note,
She spoil'd her Voice, she strain'd her Throat:
She did, as learned Women do,
Till every Thing
That heard her sing
Wou'd run away from her----as I from you._
[_~Exit~ Esop ~running~._
_~Hortensia~ sola._
How grossly does this poor World suffer itself to be impos'd
upon!----_Esop_, a Man of Sense----Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! Alas, poor
Wretch! I shou'd not have known him but by his Deformity; his Soul's
as nauseous to my Understanding, as his odious Body to my Sense of
Feeling. Well,
_'Mongst all the Wits that are allow'd to shine,
Methinks there's nothing yet approaches mine:
Sure I was sent the homely Age t'adorn; }
What Star, I know not, rul'd when I was born, }
But every Thing besides myself's my Scorn._ }
[Exit.
[Illustration]
+ACT+ II.
_Enter ~Euphronia~ and ~Doris~._
_Dor._ What, in the Name of _Jove_, 's the matter with you? Speak, for
Heaven's sake!
_Euph._ Oh! what shall I do? _Doris_, I'm undone.
_Dor._ What, ravish'd?
_Euph._ No, ten times worse! Ten times worse! Unlace me, or I shall
swoon.
_Dor._ Unlace you? Why, you are not thereabouts, I hope?
_Euph._ No no, worse still; worse than all that.
_Dor._ Nay, then 'tis bad, indeed.
[_~Doris~ unlaces her._
There: How d'ye do now?
_Euph._ So; 'tis going over.
_Dor._ Courage, pluck up your Spirits: Well, now what's the matter?
_Euph._ The matter! Thou shalt hear. Know that--that Cheat--_Esop_----
_Dor._ Like enough; speak: What has he done! That ugly ill-boding
Cyclops--
_Euph._ Why, instead of keeping his Promise, and speaking for
_Oronces_, he has not said one Word, but what has been for himself. And
by my Father's Order, before to-morrow Noon he's to marry me.
_Dor._ He marry you!
_Euph._ Am I in the wrong to be in this Despair? Tell me, _Doris_, if I
am to blame.
_Dor._ To blame? No, by my troth. That ugly, old, treacherous piece
of Vermin--that melancholy Mixture of Impotence and Desire--does his
Mouth stand to a young Partridge? Ah the old Goat! And your Father! He
downright doats at last, then.
_Euph._ Ah, _Doris_, what a Husband does he give me! And what a Lover
does he rob me of! Thou know'st 'em both; think of _Oronces_, and think
of _Esop_.
_Dor._ [_Spitting._] A foul Monster! And yet, now I think on't, I'm
almost as angry at t'other too: Methinks he makes but a slow Voyage
on't, for a Man in Love: 'Tis now above two Months since he went to
_Lesbos_, to pack up the old Bones of his dead Father; sure he might
have made a little more Haste.
_Enter ~Oronces~._
_Euph._ Oh! my Heart, what do I see?
_Dor._ Talk of the Devil, and he's at your Elbow.
_Oron._ My dear Soul!
[_~Euph.~ runs and leaps about his Neck._
_Euph._ Why wou'd you stay so long from me?
_Oron._ 'Twas not my Fault, indeed; the Winds----
_Dor._ The Winds! Will the Winds blow you your Mistress again? We
have had Winds too, and Waves into the Bargain; Storms and Tempests,
Sea-Monsters, and the Devil and all. She struggled as long as she
cou'd, but a Woman can do no more than she can do; when her Breath was
gone, down she sunk.
_Oron._ What's the meaning of all this?
_Dor._ There's meaning and mumping too: your Mistress is married:
that's all.
_Oron._ Death and Furies----
_Euph._ [_Clinging about him._] Don't you frighten him too much,
neither, _Doris_. No, my Dear, I'm not yet executed, tho' I'm condemn'd.
_Oron._ Condemn'd! To what? Speak! Quick!
_Dor._ To be married.
_Oron._ Married? When? How? Where? To what? To whom?
_Dor. Esop, Esop, Esop, Esop, Esop._
_Oron._ Fiends and Spectres! What! That piece of Deformity! That
Monster! That Crump!
_Dor._ The same, Sir, the same. I find he knows him. You might have
come home sooner.
_Oron._ Dear _Euphronia_, ease me from my Pain. Swear that you neither
have nor will consent. I know this comes from your ambitious Father;
But you're too generous, too true to leave me: Millions of Kingdoms
ne'er wou'd shake my Faith, And I believe your Constancy as firm.
_Euph._ You do me Justice, you shall find you do: For Racks and
Tortures, Crowns and Scepters join'd, shall neither fright me from my
Truth, nor tempt me to be false. On this you may depend.
_Dor._ Wou'd to the Lord you wou'd find some other Place to make your
fine Speeches in! Don't you know that your dear Friend _Esop_'s coming
to receive his Visits here? In this great downy Chair, your pretty
little Husband Elect is to sit and hear all the Complaints of the Town:
One of Wisdom's chief Recompences being to be constantly troubled with
the Business of Fools. Pray, Madam, will you take the Gentleman by the
Hand, and lead him into your Chamber; and when you are there, don't
lie whining, and crying, and sighing, and wishing----[_Aside._] If
he had not been more modest than wise, he might have set such a Mark
upon the Goods before now, that ne'er a Merchant of 'em all wou'd have
bought 'em out of his Hands. But young Fellows are always in the wrong:
Either so impudent they are nauseous, or so modest they are useless.
Go; pray get you gone together.
_Euph._ But if my Father catch us, we are ruin'd.
_Dor._ By my Conscience, this Love will make us all turn Fools. Before
your Father can open the Door, can't he slip down the Back-stairs? I'm
sure he may, if you don't hold him; but that's the old Trade. Ah--Well,
get you gone, however----Hark----I hear the old Baboon cough; away!
[_Ex. ~Oron.~ and ~Euph.~ running._] Here he comes, with his ugly Beak
before him. Ah--a luscious Bedfellow, by my troth!
_Enter ~Learchus~ and ~Esop~._
_Lear._ Well, _Doris_; what News from my Daughter? Is she prudent?
_Dor._ Yes, very prudent.
_Lear._ What says she? What does she do?
_Dor._ Do? What shou'd she do? Tears her Cornet; bites her Thumbs;
throws her Fan in the Fire; thinks 'tis dark Night at Noon-day; dreams
of Monsters and Hobgoblins; raves in her Sleep of forc'd Marriage
and Cuckoldom; cries, _Avaunt_ Deformity; then wakens on a sudden,
with fifty Arguments at her Fingers-ends to prove the Lawfulness of
Rebellion in a Child, when a Parent turns Tyrant.
_Lear._ Very fine! But all this shan't serve her turn. I have said the
Word, and will be obey'd----My Lord does her Honour.
_Dor._ [_Aside._] Yes, and that's all he can do to her. [_To ~Lear~._]
But I can't blame the Gentleman, after all; he loves my Mistress,
because she's handsome; and she hates him, because he's ugly. I never
saw two People more in the right in my Life. [_To ~Esop~._] You'll
pardon me, Sir, I'm somewhat free.
_Esop._ Why, a Ceremony wou'd but take up time. But, Governor, methinks
I have an admirable Advocate about your Daughter.
_Lear._ Out of the Room, Impudence: be gone, I say.
_Dor._ So I will: But you'll be as much in the wrong when I'm gone, as
when I'm here. And your Conscience, I hope, will talk as pertly to you
as I can do.
_Esop._ If she treats me thus before my face, I may conclude I'm finely
handled behind my Back.
_Dor._ I say the Truth here; and I can say no worse any where.
[_Exit ~Doris~._
_Lear._ I hope your Lordship won't be concern'd at what this prattling
Wench bleats out: my Daughter will be govern'd. She's bred up to
Obedience. There may be some small Difficulty in weaning her from her
young Lover: But 'twon't be the first time she has been wean'd from a
Breast, my Lord.
_Esop._ Does she love him fondly, Sir?
_Lear._ Foolishly, my Lord.
_Esop._ And he her?
_Lear._ The same.
_Esop._ Is he young?
_Lear._ Yes, and vigorous.
_Esop._ Rich?
_Lear._ So, so.
_Esop._ Well-born?
_Lear._ He has good Blood in his Veins.
_Esop._ Has he Wit?
_Lear._ He had, before he was in Love.
_Esop._ And handsome with all this?
_Lear._ Or else we shou'd not have half so much trouble with him.
_Esop._ Why do you, then, make her quit him for me? All the World knows
I am neither young, noble, nor rich: And as for my Beauty----Look you,
Governor, I'm honest. But when Children cry, they tell 'em _Esop_'s
a-coming. Pray, Sir, what is it makes you so earnest to force your
Daughter?
_Lear._ Am I, then, to count for nothing the favour you are in at
Court? Father-in-law to the great _Esop_! What may not I aspire to? My
foolish Daughter, perhaps, mayn't be so well pleas'd with it, but we
wise Parents usually weigh our Children's Happiness in the Scale of our
own Inclinations.
_Esop._ Well, Governor, let it be your Care, then, to make her consent.
_Lear._ This Moment, my Lord, I reduce her either to Obedience, or to
Dust and Ashes.
[_Exit ~Lear~._
_Esop._ Adieu. Now let in the People who come for Audience.
[_~Esop~ sits in his Chair, reading of Papers._
_Enter two ordinary Tradesmen._
_1 Tra._ There he is, Neighbour: Do but look at him.
_2 Tra._ Aye; one may know him: He's well mark'd. But do'st hear me?
What Title must we give him? for if we fail in that point, d'ye see me,
we shall never get our Business done. Courtiers love Titles almost as
well as they do Money, and that's a bold Word now.
_1 Tra._ Why, I think we had best call him, his Grandeur.
_2 Tra._ That will do; thou hast hit on't. Hold still, let me speak.
May it please your Grandeur----
_Esop._ There I interrupt you, Friend; I have a weak Body that will
ne'er be able to bear that Title.
_2 Tra._ D'ye hear that, Neighbour? What shall we call him now?
_1 Tra._ Why, call him, call him, his Excellency; try what that will do.
_2 Tra._ May it please your Excellency----
_Esop._ Excellency's a long Word, it takes up too much time in
Business: Tell me what you'd have in few Words.
_2 Tra._
Neighbour, this Man will never give
Ten thousand Pounds to be made a Lord.
But what shall I say to him now?
He puts me quite out of my play.
_1 Tra._ Why e'en talk to him as we do to one another.
_2 Tra._ Shall I? Why, so I will, then. Hem! Neighbour, we want a new
Governor, Neighbour.
_Esop._ A new Governor, Friend?
_2 Tra._ Aye, Friend.
_Esop._ Why, what's the matter with your old one?
_2 Tra._
What's the matter!
Why, he grows rich; that's the matter;
And he that's rich can't be innocent; that's all.
_Esop._ Does he use any of you harshly? Or punish you without a Fault?
_2 Tra._ No, but he grows as rich as a Miser; his Purse is so cramm'd,
'tis ready to burst again.
_Esop._ When 'tis full, 'twill hold no more; a new Governor will have
an empty one.
_2 Tra._ 'Fore Gad, Neighbour, the little Gentleman's in the right on't.
_1 Tra._
Why, truly, I don't know but he may:
For now it comes in my Head,
It cost me more Money to fat my Hog,
Than to keep him fat when he was so.
Pr'ythee tell him we'll keep our old Governor.
_2 Tra._ I'll do't. Why, look you, Sir, d'ye see me: Having seriously
consider'd of the matter, my Neighbour _Hobson_ and I here, we are
content to jog on a little longer with him we have: but if you'd do us
another Courtesy, you might.
_Esop._ What's that, Friend?
_2 Tra._ Why, that's this: Our King Crœsus is a very good Prince,
as a Man may say: But----a----but--Taxes are high, an't please you;
and----a----poor Men want Money, d'ye see me: 'Tis very hard, as we
think, that the Poor shou'd work to maintain the Rich. If there were no
Taxes, we shou'd do pretty well.
_1 Tra._ Taxes, indeed, are very burdensome.
_Esop._ I'll tell you a Story, Countrymen.
_Once on a time, the Hands and Feet,
As Mutineers, grew mighty great;
They met, caball'd, and talk'd of Treason,
They swore by ~Jove~ they knew no Reason
The Belly shou'd have all the Meat-- }
It was a damn'd notorious Cheat }
They did the Work, and--Death and Hell, they'd eat. }
The Belly, who ador'd good Chear,
Had like t'have dy'd away for Fear:
Quoth he, Good Folks, you little know }
What 'tis you are about to do; }
If I am starv'd, what will become of you? }
We neither know nor care, cry'd they,
But this we will be bound to say,
We'll see you damn'd
Before we'll work,
And you receive the Pay.
With that the Hands to Pocket went
Full Wrist-band deep,
The Legs and Feet fell fast asleep:
Their Liberty they had redeem'd,
And all, except the Belly, seem'd
Extremely well content.
But mark what follow'd; 'twas not long
Before the right became the wrong;
The Mutineers were grown so weak,
They found 'twas more than time to squeak:
They call for work, but 'twas too late.
The Stomach (like an aged Maid, }
Shrunk up, for want of human Aid) }
The common Debt of Nature paid, }
And with its Destiny entrain'd their Fate._ }
_Esop._ What think you of this Story, Friends, ha? Come, you look like
wise Men; I'm sure you understand what's for your good; in giving part
of what you have, you secure all the rest: If the King had no Money,
there cou'd be no Army; and if there were no Army, your Enemies would
be amongst you: One Day's Pillage wou'd be worse than twenty Years'
Taxes. What say ye? Is't not so?
_2 Tra._ By my troth, I think he's in the right on't, again. Who'd
think that little Hump-back of his Shou'd have so much Brains in't,
Neighbour?
_Esop._ Well, honest Men, is there any thing else that I can serve you
in?