Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists/Fable CLVII

by Roger L'Estrange

Fab CLVII.

A Wife and a Drunken Husband.

A Woman that lay under the Mortification of a Fuddling Husband, took him once when he was Dead Drunk; and had his Body layd in a Charnel-House. By the time that she thought he might be come to Himself again, away goes she, and Knocks at the Door. Who's There (says the Toper) One, says the Woman, that brings Meat for the Dead. Friend, says he, Bring Me Drink rather. I wonder any body that Knows me, should bring me One without ’Tother, Nay then, says she, the Humour I perceive has taken Possession of him; He has gotten a Habit, and his Case is Desperate.

The Moral.

Inveterate Ill Habits become Another Nature to us, and we may almost as well be Taken to Pieces, and New put together again, as Mended.

REFLEXION.

The Intent of This Fatble is to Work a Reformation of Manners, by shewing that Evil Habits are very hard to be Cur’d ; for they take Root by Degrees, ’till they come in the End to be past both Remedy and Shame, Habitual Debauches make Excess of Drink as Necessary to a Man as Common Air, Especially when his Mind comes to be Wholly taken up with the Contemplation of his Vice. There are Those that can never Sleep without their Load, nor Enjoy One Easie Thought, 'till they have laid All their Cares to Rest with a Bottle. 'Tis much the same Thing with Other Sensual Pleasures, where Mens Bodies and Minds are given up to the Entertainment of them, But the Extravagance is never so Desperate, as when the Understanding is Taken up with the Study and Meditation of Those Pleasures, which the Body is no longer in Condition to Practice, and that's the most Deplorate, Hopeless, and Incurable State of an Evil Disposition; when Drink upon Drink is made use of for a Remedy.