Moral and political fables, ancient and modern done into measured prose intermixed with ryme by Dr. Walter Pope.

FAB. LXXXI. The Thief and his Mother.

A Thief to th' Place of Execution brought To suffer Death, the just reward of's Crimes. As he upon the Ladder stood, espyd His sorrowful Mother pressing thro the throng, To take the last leave of her dying Son. The Officers permitted them to embrace; But he, instead of a departing Kiss, Bit off her Nose and spit it in her Face. The Crowd, detesting this unnatural Act, Cryd out, no torment can be great enuf, No sort of Death for such a Parricide. Hear me, said he, condemn me not unheard: This Woman, whom I have treated in this sort, Is the only cause of my untimely death. When I was Young, not knowing Good from Ill, And from my Play-fellows some Trifles stole, I brought her them, which she receivd with joy; Twas her Encouragement made me proceed In that lewd way and commit greater Thefts, For which I undergo this shameful death; From whence I might have easily been preservd, Had she chastizd me for the first Offence.

The MORAL.

A cruel Mother is better than a mild; Sparing the Rod is spoyling of the Child.

Another MORAL.

Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem Testa diu. Horace.

That is,

New Casks, for a long while hold their first scent, Young Twigs, to any form are easily bent.

Another out of I. C.

Die wel bemint kastijt sijn kint.

That is,

Who their Child like, They their Child strike.

Another out of the same.

Een Aep, oyt al te grooten min Die perst haer jonck de lenden in.

That is,

An Ape, to her young may no affection lack, And yet not hug 'em till she breaks their Back.

Another out of the same.

'Tis wel, na mijn begrijp, in duden tijt gheseyt, 'Tis beter dat het kint, als dat de moeder schreyt.

That is,

Tho' there's no Music, in one, or the other, 'Tis better t' hear the Child cry, than the Mother.