Not long ago th' AmbassadorFrom the greatTurkto the Emperor,Extoll'd his Master's strength, beyondTheGermanForce; a Courtier, fondOf his own Country, boastinglySaid, his Imperial MajestyHad 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 gloryOf 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 spiedA 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 wereBoth Empires; but the Tails are ours,And all the glorious Heads are yours.
Not long ago th' AmbassadorFrom the greatTurkto the Emperor,Extoll'd his Master's strength, beyondTheGermanForce; a Courtier, fondOf his own Country, boastinglySaid, his Imperial MajestyHad 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 gloryOf 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 spiedA 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 wereBoth Empires; but the Tails are ours,And all the glorious Heads are yours.
A Wolf so pitious poor and thin,His very Bones stuck through his Skin,(A sign the Dogs were watchful) metA sturdy Mastiff, slick and fat.Sir Wolf, revengeful on his Foes,Had murder'd him, as one of thoseThat hinder'd him from stealing Cattle;But was afraid of joyning BattleWith one, that look'd, as if he couldStand buff, and make his party good.And therefore in an humble wayHe gives the Dog the time o'th' Day;Talks mighty complaisant, and ventsA Waggon Load of ComplimentsUpon his being in such a Case,His brawny Flank and jolly Face.Sir Wolf, replies the Mastiff, youMay 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 WivesAnd 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 flatterThose of the Family; for thisThey'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 PlaceAbout 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 fromMy Collar. Then, I find, at homeThey 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 soIs flying still for ought I know.
A Wolf so pitious poor and thin,His very Bones stuck through his Skin,(A sign the Dogs were watchful) metA sturdy Mastiff, slick and fat.Sir Wolf, revengeful on his Foes,Had murder'd him, as one of thoseThat hinder'd him from stealing Cattle;But was afraid of joyning BattleWith one, that look'd, as if he couldStand buff, and make his party good.And therefore in an humble wayHe gives the Dog the time o'th' Day;Talks mighty complaisant, and ventsA Waggon Load of ComplimentsUpon his being in such a Case,His brawny Flank and jolly Face.Sir Wolf, replies the Mastiff, youMay 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 WivesAnd 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 flatterThose of the Family; for thisThey'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 PlaceAbout 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 fromMy Collar. Then, I find, at homeThey 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 soIs flying still for ought I know.
A Frog threw his ambitious EyesUpon 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.
A Frog threw his ambitious EyesUpon 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.
A Self conceited Country BumkinThus 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 itOn yon high Oak, and 'twould have grac'd itBetter than Acorns; its a whimA 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 nighAn Oak, whose Crown was very high,He liked the Place and down he laidHis weary Carcass, in the Shade:But, as the find-fault AnimalTurn'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.
A Self conceited Country BumkinThus 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 itOn yon high Oak, and 'twould have grac'd itBetter than Acorns; its a whimA 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 nighAn Oak, whose Crown was very high,He liked the Place and down he laidHis weary Carcass, in the Shade:But, as the find-fault AnimalTurn'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 wellContrived by its Creator's Skill;There's nothing in't, but what is goodTo him, by whom its understood;And what opposes Human Sence,Shews but our Pride and Ignorance.
The Moral.
The World's vast Fabrick is so wellContrived by its Creator's Skill;There's nothing in't, but what is goodTo him, by whom its understood;And what opposes Human Sence,Shews but our Pride and Ignorance.
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 consideringWhat 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 shewWe'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 thinkBecomes 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 LordAbdomenSay 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 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 consideringWhat 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 shewWe'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 thinkBecomes 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 LordAbdomenSay 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 discontentPleibeians;that are ignorant,How necessary for the StateIt 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 beBut Seats of Sloth and Luxury;Themselves, but Slaves compell'd to bearThe Taxes, and the Toils of War;But in this Fable they may seeThe dismal Fruits of Mutiny;Whilst Subjects, that assist the Crown,But labour to maintain their own.
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 discontentPleibeians;that are ignorant,How necessary for the StateIt 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 beBut Seats of Sloth and Luxury;Themselves, but Slaves compell'd to bearThe Taxes, and the Toils of War;But in this Fable they may seeThe dismal Fruits of Mutiny;Whilst Subjects, that assist the Crown,But labour to maintain their own.
An honest Countryman had gotBehind his House a pretty Spot,Of Garden Ground, with all what mightContribute to the Taste and Sight,The Rose and Lilly, which have beenStill kept to compliment the Skin,Poppies renown'd for giving ease,With Roman Lettice, Endive, Pease,And Beans, which Nat'ralists do reckonTo 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 thenSpite of the Master and the MenMake 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 labourWas spoil'd by one confounded Hare,Which though the'd watch'd her every whereHe nor his People ne'er could catch,And of a certain was a Witch.His Worship smiles and promisesTo rid him of the Sawcy Puss.At break of DayJackwinds 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 comeWithRobin,Lightfoot,DickandTom.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 SuppliesOf Collard Beef, and Apple-pies.His Worship falls aboard of her;The modest Creature quakes for fear.When do we marry MistressAnn?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 meJack.She blushes, and he vows she isA 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 foundHid underneath a Collyflower.The Prey is took, away they scower,And leave our Countryman to thinkOn 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 HareTo ravenous Hunters to compare.He wrings his Hands, and all in TearsRepents 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 HaresOf th' Country could in Seven Years.
An honest Countryman had gotBehind his House a pretty Spot,Of Garden Ground, with all what mightContribute to the Taste and Sight,The Rose and Lilly, which have beenStill kept to compliment the Skin,Poppies renown'd for giving ease,With Roman Lettice, Endive, Pease,And Beans, which Nat'ralists do reckonTo 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 thenSpite of the Master and the MenMake 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 labourWas spoil'd by one confounded Hare,Which though the'd watch'd her every whereHe nor his People ne'er could catch,And of a certain was a Witch.His Worship smiles and promisesTo rid him of the Sawcy Puss.At break of DayJackwinds 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 comeWithRobin,Lightfoot,DickandTom.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 SuppliesOf Collard Beef, and Apple-pies.His Worship falls aboard of her;The modest Creature quakes for fear.When do we marry MistressAnn?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 meJack.She blushes, and he vows she isA 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 foundHid underneath a Collyflower.The Prey is took, away they scower,And leave our Countryman to thinkOn 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 HareTo ravenous Hunters to compare.He wrings his Hands, and all in TearsRepents 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 HaresOf 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 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.
One time a mighty Plague did pesterAll Beasts Domestick andSylvester,They try'd a world of Remedies;But none that conquer'd the Disease:And, as in the CalamityAll did not dye, so none were free.The Lyon in this ConsternationSends by his Royal ProclamationTo 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 SenceOf this consuming Pestilence;Sure such extraordinary PunishmentOn 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 BeastShall as a Sacrifice be giv'n,T'allay the wrath of angry Heav'n,And serve our Sins an expiationBy 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 FoxCries out, what signifies an Ox,Or Horse? Sure those unworthy thingsAre 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 EnemyDeserv'd no better Destiny.Thus was he, that had sin'd for Twenty,Clear'dNemine Contradicente.The Bear, the Tyger, Beasts that fight,And all that could but scratch or biteCame off well; for their gross AbusesOthers as bad found Excuses.Nay even the Cat of wicked NatureThat kills at play his Fellow CreatureWent scot free: But his GravityAn Ass of stupid MemoryConfess'd, that, going toSturbridge-FairHis Back most broke with Wooden-ware,He chanc'd half starv'd, and faint, to passBy 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 CrimesAs these, deserve such fatal Times.By several Acts of Parliament'Tis Sacriledge, they all consent;And thus the silly virtuous AssWas Sacrifis'd for eating Grass.
One time a mighty Plague did pesterAll Beasts Domestick andSylvester,They try'd a world of Remedies;But none that conquer'd the Disease:And, as in the CalamityAll did not dye, so none were free.The Lyon in this ConsternationSends by his Royal ProclamationTo 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 SenceOf this consuming Pestilence;Sure such extraordinary PunishmentOn 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 BeastShall as a Sacrifice be giv'n,T'allay the wrath of angry Heav'n,And serve our Sins an expiationBy 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 FoxCries out, what signifies an Ox,Or Horse? Sure those unworthy thingsAre 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 EnemyDeserv'd no better Destiny.Thus was he, that had sin'd for Twenty,Clear'dNemine Contradicente.The Bear, the Tyger, Beasts that fight,And all that could but scratch or biteCame off well; for their gross AbusesOthers as bad found Excuses.Nay even the Cat of wicked NatureThat kills at play his Fellow CreatureWent scot free: But his GravityAn Ass of stupid MemoryConfess'd, that, going toSturbridge-FairHis Back most broke with Wooden-ware,He chanc'd half starv'd, and faint, to passBy 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 CrimesAs these, deserve such fatal Times.By several Acts of Parliament'Tis Sacriledge, they all consent;And thus the silly virtuous AssWas Sacrifis'd for eating Grass.
The Moral.The Fable shews you poor Folk's fateWhilst Laws can never reach the Great.
The Moral.
The Fable shews you poor Folk's fateWhilst Laws can never reach the Great.
A Merry Grasshopper, that sungAnd tun'd it all the Summer long,Fed on small Flies, and had no ReasonTo 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'nTo 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}InJulynext, and I'll repay,}Your Interest and your PrincipalShall 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 bestOf all the Year, go dance the rest.
A Merry Grasshopper, that sungAnd tun'd it all the Summer long,Fed on small Flies, and had no ReasonTo 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'nTo 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}InJulynext, and I'll repay,}Your Interest and your PrincipalShall 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 bestOf all the Year, go dance the rest.
A Straping Dame, a going to TownTo 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 countsThe Price to which her Milk amounts;She fancies all is sold, and laysThe 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 reckonsWill 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 givesWith 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 ThoughtFor which a Cow and Calf are bought;She'll have 'em on the Common kept,There see 'em jump, at that she leaptFor joy; down comes the Pail, and nowGood 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 takeIn dreaming whilst they are awake:Pleas'd with our Fancies we possessFriends, Honour, Women, Palaces.When I'm alone I dare defyMankind for Wit and Bravery.I beat theFrenchin 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.
A Straping Dame, a going to TownTo 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 countsThe Price to which her Milk amounts;She fancies all is sold, and laysThe 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 reckonsWill 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 givesWith 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 ThoughtFor which a Cow and Calf are bought;She'll have 'em on the Common kept,There see 'em jump, at that she leaptFor joy; down comes the Pail, and nowGood 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 takeIn dreaming whilst they are awake:Pleas'd with our Fancies we possessFriends, Honour, Women, Palaces.When I'm alone I dare defyMankind for Wit and Bravery.I beat theFrenchin 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.
A Mouse of no ExperienceWas almost nabb'd for want of Sence.Hear how the silly young one toldHer 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 CreaturesOf 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 HeadHe wore a piece of Flesh that's red;A bunch of Tails with green and blackStood staring higher than his back.And thus describes the simple MouseA Cock he had seen behind the House,As had it been some Beast of PreyBrought over fromAmerica.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 IHad 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 BackSo 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 RelationTo our Allies the Rattish Nation:His Ears and Whiskers are the sameWith ours, I would have ask'd his Name,When with his harsh and horrid soundThe 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 AnimalNe'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 youFor such an humble Creature took,And judge not People by their Look.
A Mouse of no ExperienceWas almost nabb'd for want of Sence.Hear how the silly young one toldHer 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 CreaturesOf 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 HeadHe wore a piece of Flesh that's red;A bunch of Tails with green and blackStood staring higher than his back.And thus describes the simple MouseA Cock he had seen behind the House,As had it been some Beast of PreyBrought over fromAmerica.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 IHad 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 BackSo 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 RelationTo our Allies the Rattish Nation:His Ears and Whiskers are the sameWith ours, I would have ask'd his Name,When with his harsh and horrid soundThe 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 AnimalNe'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 youFor such an humble Creature took,And judge not People by their Look.
A Cock, not very nicely fed,A Dunghill raker by his Trade,Whilst scraping in the dirt, had foundA 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 bitOf 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 hadA 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.
A Cock, not very nicely fed,A Dunghill raker by his Trade,Whilst scraping in the dirt, had foundA 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 bitOf 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 hadA 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.
It happen'd that some Years ago,The Lyon had a Mind to know,What beastly Nations up and downBelong'd to his Imperial Crown:And therefore in his Princely careSends 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 SmellMy Gentleman is sent to Hell.The Monky fam'd for flatteryExtalls this Action to the Sky,Then prais'd the King's majestick Face,The stately building of the Place,The Smell, whose Fragrancy so farExceeds 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 reputationTo beCaligula'sRelation.The Fox being near; the peevish KingAsk'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 pleaseGreat Men make use of such as these.Bluntness and bare-faced FlatteryCan never with the Court agree.
It happen'd that some Years ago,The Lyon had a Mind to know,What beastly Nations up and downBelong'd to his Imperial Crown:And therefore in his Princely careSends 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 SmellMy Gentleman is sent to Hell.The Monky fam'd for flatteryExtalls this Action to the Sky,Then prais'd the King's majestick Face,The stately building of the Place,The Smell, whose Fragrancy so farExceeds 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 reputationTo beCaligula'sRelation.The Fox being near; the peevish KingAsk'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 pleaseGreat Men make use of such as these.Bluntness and bare-faced FlatteryCan never with the Court agree.
Man is so obstinate a CreatureNo Remedy can change his Nature.Fear, Shame, all ineffectual proveTo 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 DameCtesiphone.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 thinkNever to bring them any Drink?
Man is so obstinate a CreatureNo Remedy can change his Nature.Fear, Shame, all ineffectual proveTo 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 DameCtesiphone.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 thinkNever to bring them any Drink?
A Handsome Carp genteely bred,In fresh and running Water fed,Puff'd up with Pride and Vanity,Forsook theThamesand 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 LanguagesWere 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 TravellerReply'd, I am a Stranger, Sir,Come for my Pleasure to these PartsTo 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 wellWhat Laws, what Form of Government?Are Taxes rais'd, without consentOf 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 flourishesHe 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 CompanyOf Riot and Debauchery;The scandalous Gang in little timeInfect him with the Salt, and Slime:They robb'd his Row, till scurvilyAt 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.
A Handsome Carp genteely bred,In fresh and running Water fed,Puff'd up with Pride and Vanity,Forsook theThamesand 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 LanguagesWere 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 TravellerReply'd, I am a Stranger, Sir,Come for my Pleasure to these PartsTo 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 wellWhat Laws, what Form of Government?Are Taxes rais'd, without consentOf 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 flourishesHe 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 CompanyOf Riot and Debauchery;The scandalous Gang in little timeInfect him with the Salt, and Slime:They robb'd his Row, till scurvilyAt 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.