Page:Fables of Aesop and other eminent mythologists.djvu/195

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

Æſop's FABLES.
141

the Warm Skin, The Wolfe was By all This while, and the Fox in a Snearing Way advis'd him for the Future, not to Irritate a Prince againſt his Subjects, but rather to Sweeten him with Peaceable, and Healing Councells.

The Moral.

The Bus'neſs of a Fickthank is the Baſeſt of Offices, but yet Divertng enough ſometimes, when One Raſcal happens to be Encounter'd with Another.

REFLEXION.

There's Nothing more Common in the World then Theſe Wolviſh Back-Friends, in all our Pretenſions; whether it be in Law, in Government, or in a Hundred other ſorts of Clayme and Competition; Eſpecially for the running down of a Man that's Declining in his Credit already. Calumny is Baſe at beſt; though Pleaſant enough ſomctimes, where it falls out, that One Raſcal is Countermining Another. But let the Reproach be never ſo True, it can hardly be Honeſt, Where the Office is done in Hugger-Mugger; and Where the Intention is not Guided by a Conſcience of the Duty. It is a way to Confound the Good and the Bad, where Knaves have Credit enough to be Believ'd, to the Wrong of Honeſt Men, and the Innocent left without Means of Defence.

Hee that would live Cleare of the Envy and Hatred, of Potent Calumniators, muſt lay his Finger upon his Mouth, and keep his Hand out of the Ink-Pot; for to do a Good Office upon the Point of Opinion, Intelligence, Brains, or Conſcience, where This Wolviſh Humour prevayles, is little better then a Scandala Magnatum, or a Libel upon his Superiors: But where it happens, that there's a Fox and a Wolfe in the Caſe; and One Sharper to Encounter Another, the Scene is Diverting enough.


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.

REFLE