The hind and the panther transvers'd to the story of The country-mouse and the city-mouse

THE HIND AND THE PANTHER, Transvers'd to the Story of the Country and the City-Mouse.

Bayes. Iohnson. Smith.

Iohnson.

HAH! my old friend Mr. Bayes, what lucky chance has thrown me upon you? Dear Rogue let me embrace thee.

Bayes.

Hold, at your peril, Sir, stand off and come not within my Swords point, for if you are not come over to the Royal party,* 1.1 I expect nei∣ther fair war, nor fair quarter from you.

Iohns.

How, draw upon your friend? and assault your old Acquaintance? O' my conscience my intentions were Honourable.

Bayes.

Conscience! Ay, ay, I know the deceit of that word well enough,* 1.2 let me have the marks of your Consci∣ence before I trust it, for if it be not of the same stamp with mine, Gad I may be knockt down for all your fair promises.

Smith.

Nay, prithee Bayes, what damn'd Villany hast thou been about that thou'rt under these apprehensions? upon my Honour I'm thy friend; yet thou lookest as snea∣king and frighted as a dog that has been worrying sheep.

Bayes.

* 1.3Ay Sir, The Nation is in too high a ferment for me to expect any mercy, or I'gad, to trust any body.

Smith.

But why this to us, my old friend, who you know never trouble our heads with National concerns till the third bottle has taught us as much of Politicks, as the next does of Religion?

Bayes.

Ah Gentlemen, leave this prophaneness, I am alter'd since you saw me, and cannot bear this loose talk now; Mr. Iohnson, you are a man of Parts, let me desire you to read the Guide of Controversy; and Mr. Smith, I would recommend to you the Considerations on the Council of Trent,* 1.4 and so Gentlemen your humble Servant.— Good life be now my Task.

Iohns.

Nay Faith, we wont part so: believe us we are both your Friends; let us step to the Rose for one quarter of an hour, and talk over old Stories.

Bayes.

I ever took you to be men of Honour, and for your sakes I will transgress as far as one Pint.

Iohns.

Well, Mr. Bayes, many a merry bout have we had in this House, and shall have again, I hope: Come, what Wine are you for?

Bayes.

Gentlemen, do you as you please, for my part he shall bring me a single Pint of any thing.

Smith.

How so, Mr. Bayes, have you lost your pallat? you have been more curious.

Bayes.

True, I have so, but senses must be starv'd that

the soul may be gratified.* 1.5 Men of your Kidney make the senses the supream Iudg, and therefore bribe 'em high, but we have laid both the use and pleasure of 'em aside.

Smith.

What, is not there good eating and drinking on both sides? you make the separation greater than I thought it.

Bayes.

No, no, whenever you see a fat Rosie-colour'd fellow,* 1.6 take it from me, he is either a Protestant or a Turk.

Iohns.

At that rate, Mr. Bayes, one might suspect your conversion; methinks thou hast as much the face of an Heretick as ever I saw.

Bayes.

Such was I,* 1.7 such by nature still I am. But I hope ere long I shall have drawn this pamper'd Paunch fitter for the straight gate.

Smith.

Sure, Sir, you are in ill hands, your Confessor gives you more severe rules than he practices; for not long ago a Fat Frier was thought a true Character.

Bayes.

Things were misrepresented to me: I confess I have been unfortunate in some of my Writings: but since you have put me upon that subject, I'le show you a thing I have in my Pocket shall wipe off all that, or I am mistaken.

Smith.

Come, now thou art like thy self again. Here's the Kings Health to thee—Communicate.

Bayes.

Well, Gentlemen, here it is, and I'le be bold to say, the exactest Piece the world ever saw, a Non Pareillo I'faith. But I must bespeak your pardons if it reflects any thing upon your perswasion.

Ioh.

Use your Liberty, Sir, you know we are no Bigots.

Bayes.

Why then you shall see me lay the Reformation on its back, I'gad, and justifie our Religion by way of Fable.

Iohns.

An apt contrivance indeed! what do you make a Fable of your Religion?

Bayes.

Ay I'gad, and without Morals too; for I tread in no mans steps; and to show you how far I can out-do any thing that ever was writ in this kind, I have taken Horace's de∣sign, but I'gad, have so out-done him, you shall be a∣sham'd for your old friend. You remember in him the Story of the Country-Mouse, and the City-Mouse; what a plain simple thing it is, it has no more life and spirit in it, I'gad, than a Hobby-horse; and his Mice talk so meanly, such common stuff, so like meer Mice, that I wonder it has pleas'd the world so long. But now will I undeceive Man∣kind, and teach 'em to heighten, and elevate a Fable. I'le bring you in the very same Mice disputing the depth of Philosophy, searching into the fundamentals of Religion, quoting Texts, Fathers, Councils, and all that, I'gad, as you shall see either of 'em could easily make an Asse of a Country Vicar. Now whereas Horace keeps to the dry na∣ked story, I have more copiousness than to do that, I'gad. Here, I draw you general Characters, and describe all the beasts of the Creation; there, I launch out into long Digres∣sions, and leave my Mice for twenty Pages together; then I fall into Raptures, and make the finest Soliloquies, as would ravish you. Won't this do, think you?

Iohns.

Faith, Sir, I don't well conceive you; all this a∣bout two Mice?

Bayes.

Ay, why not? is it not great and Heroical? but come, you'l understand it better when you hear it; and pray be as severe as you can, I'gad I defie all Criticks. Thus it begins.

* 1.8A milk-white Mouse immortal and unchang'd, Fed on soft Cheese, and o're the Dairy rang'd; Without, unspotted; innocent within, She fear'd no danger, for she knew no Ginn.

Iohns.

Methinks Mr. Bayes, soft Cheese is a little too coarse Diet for an immortal Mouse; were there any necessity for her eating, you should have consulted Homer for some Coelestial Provision.

Bayes.

Faith, Gentlemen, I did so; but indeed I have not the Latin one, which I have mark'd by me, and could not readily find it in the Original.

Yet had She oft been scar'd by bloody Claws* 1.9 Of winged Owls, and stern Grimalkins Paws Aim'd at her destin'd Head, which made her fly,* 1.10 Tho She was doom'd to Death, and sated not to dye.

Smith.

How came She that fear'd no danger in the line before, to be scar'd in this, Mr. Bayes?

Bayes.

Why then you may have it chas'd if you will; for I hope a Man may run away without being afraid; mayn't he?

Iohns.

But pray give me leave; how was She doom'd to Death, if She was fated not to dye; are not doom and fate, much the same thing?

Bayes.

Nay Gentlemen, if you question my skill in the Language, I'm your humble Servant▪ the Rogues the Criticks, that will allow me nothing else, give me that; sure I that made the Word, know best what I meant by it: I assure you, doom'd and fated, are quite different things.

Smith.

Faith, Mr. Bayes, if you were doom'd to be hang'd, whatever you were fated to, 'twould give you but small comfort.

Bayes.

Never trouble your head with that, Mr. Smith, mind the business in hand.

Not so her young; their Linsy-woolsy line,* 1.11 Was Hero's make, half humane, half Divine.

Smith.

Certainly these Hero's, half Humane, half Divine, have very little of the Mouse their Mother.

Bayes.

Gadsokers! Mr. Iohnson, does your Friend think I mean nothing but a Mouse, by all this? I tell thee, Man, I mean a Church, and these young Gentlemen her Sons, sig∣nifie Priests, Martyrs and Confessors, that were hang'd in Oats's Plot. There's an excellent Latin Sentence, which I had a mind to bring in, Sanguis Martyrum semen Ecclesiae, and I think I have not wrong'd it in the Translation.

Of these a slaughter'd Army lay in Blood, * 1.12Whose sanguine Seed encreas'd the sacred Brood; She multipli'd by these, now rang'd alone, * 1.13And wander'd in the Kingdoms once her own.

Smith.

Was She alone when the sacred Brood was en∣creased.

Bayes.

Why thy Head's running on the Mouse again; but I hope a Church may be alone, tho the Members be encreased, mayn't it?

Iohns.

Certainly Mr. Bayes, a Church which is a difu∣sive Body of Men, can much less be said to be alone.

Bayes.

But are you really of that Opinion? Take it from me, Mr. Iohnson, you are wrong; however to oblige you, I'le clap in some Simile or other, about the Children of Israel, and it shall do.

Smith.

Will you pardon me one word more, Mr. Bayes? What could the Mouse (for I suppose you mean her now) do more then range in the Kingdoms, when they were her own?

Bayes.

Do? why She reign'd; had a Diadem, Scepter and Ball, till they depos'd her.

Smith.

Now her Sons are so encreas'd, She may try t'other pull for't.

Bayes.

I gad, and so She may before I have done with Her; it has cost me some pains to clear Her Title. Well, but Mum for that, Mr. Smith.

The common Hunt, She timorously past by, For they made tame,* 1.14 disdain'd Her company; They grin'd, She in a fright tript o're the Green, For She was lov'd, whereever She was seen.

Iohns.

Well said little Bayes, I'faith the Critick must have a great deal of leasure, that attacks those Verses.

Bayes.

I gad, I'le warrant him, who ere he is, offendet solido; but I go on.

The Independent Beast.* 1.15

Smith.

Who is that Mr. Bayes?

Bayes.

Why a Bear: Pox, is not that obvious enough?

In groans Her hate exprest.

Which I gad, is very natural to that Animal. Well! there's for the Independent: Now the Quaker; what do you think I call him?

Smith.

Why, A Bull, for ought I know.

Bayes.

A Bull! O Lord! A Bull! no, no, a Hare, a quaking Hare.— Armarillis, because She wears Armour, 'tis the same Figure; and I am proud to say it, Mr. Iohn∣son, no man knows how to pun in Heroics but my self. Well, you shall hear.

She thought, and reason good, the quaking Hare Her cruel Foe, because She would not swear,* 1.16 And had profess'd neutrality.

Iohns.

A shrew'd Reason that, Mr. Bayes; but what Wars were there?

Bayes.

Wars! why there had bin bloody Wars, tho they were pretty well reconcil'd now. Yet to bring in two or three such fine things as these, I don't tell you the Lyon's Peace was proclaim'd till fifty pages after, tho 'twas re∣ally done before I had finish'd my Poem.

* 1.17Next Her, the Buffoon Ape his body bent, And paid at Church a Courtier's complement.

That Gauls somewhere; I gad I can't leave it off, tho I were cudgel'd every day for it.

* 1.18The-brisl'd Baptist Boar, impure as he.

Smith.

As who?

Bays.

As the Courtier, let 'em e'n take it as they will, I gad, I seldom come amongst 'em.

* 1.19Was whiten'd with the foam of Sanctity. The Wolf with Belly-gaunt his rough crest rears, And pricks up. —

Now in one word will I abuse the whole Party most damnably —

and pricks up.—

I gad, I am sure you'l Laugh —

his predestinating Ears

. Prethee Mr. Iohnson, remember little Bays, when next you see a Presbyterian, and take notice if he has not Predesti∣nation in the shape of his Ear: I have studied men so long. I'le undertake to know an Arminian, by the setting of his Wig.

His predestinating Ears.

I gad there's ne're a Pres∣byterian shall dare to show his Head without a Border: I'le put 'em to that expence.

Smith.

Pray Mr. Bays, if any of 'em should come over to the Royal Party, would their Ears alter?

Bayes.

Would they? Ay, I gad, they would shed their Fanatical Lugs, and have just such well-turn'd Ears as I have; mind this Ear, this is a true Roman Ear, mine are much chang'd for the better within this two years.

Smith.

Then if ever the Party should chance to fail, you might lose 'em, for what may change, may fall.

Bayes.

Mind, mind—

These fiery Zuinglius,* 1.20 meagre Calvin bred.

Smith.

Those I suppose are some Out-Landish Beasts, Mr. Bayes.

Bayes.

Beasts; a good Mistake! Why they were the chief Reformers, but here I put 'em in so bad Company because they were Enemies to my Mouse, and anon when I am warm'd,* 1.21 I'gad you shall hear me call 'em Doctors, Captains, Horses and Horsemen in the very same Breath. You shall hear how I go on now,

Or else reforming Corah spawn'd this Class,* 1.22 When opening Earth made way for all to pass.

Iohn.

For all, Mr. Bayes?

Bayes.

Yes, They were all lost there, but some of 'em were thrown up again at the Leman-Lake: as a Catho∣lick Queen sunk at Charing-Cross, and rose again at Queenhith.

The Fox and he came shuffled in the dark,* 1.23 If ever they were stow'd in Noah's Ark.

Here I put a Quaere, Whether there were any Socinians before the Flood, which I'm not very well satisfied in? I have been lately apt to believe that the World was drown'd for that Heresy; which among Friends made me leave it.

Quickned with Fire below,* 1.24 these Monsters breed In Fenny Holland, and in Fruitful Tweed.

Now to write something new and out of the way, to elevate and surprize, and all that, I fetch, you see this

Quickning Fire from the Bottom of Boggs and Rivers.

Iohn.

Why, Faith, that's as ingenious a Contrivance as the Virtuoso's making a Burning-Glass of Ice.

Bayes.

Why was there ever any such thing? Let me perish if ever I heard of it. The Fancy was sheer new to me; and I thought no Man had reconcil'd those Elements but my self. Well Gentlemen! Thus far I have followed Antiquity, and as Homer has numbred his Ships, so I have rang'd my Beasts. Here is my Boar and my Bear, and my Fox, and my Wolf, and the rest of 'em all against my poor Mouse. Now what do you think I do with all these?

Smith.

Faith I don't know, I suppose you make 'em fight.

Bayes.

Fight! I'gad I'd as soon make 'em Dance. No, I do no earthly thing with 'em, nothing at all, I'gad: I think they have play'd their Parts sufficiently already; I have walk'd 'em out, show'd 'em to the Compa∣ny, and rais'd your Expectation. And now whilst you hope to see 'em bated, and are dreaming of Blood and Battels, they sculk off, and you hear no more of 'em.

Smith.

Why, Faith, Mr. Bayes, now you have been at such expence in setting forth their Characters, it had been too much to have gone through with 'em.

Bayes.

I'gad so it had: And then I'le tell you another thing, 'tis not every one that reads a Poem through. And therefore I fill the first part with Flowers, Figures, fine Language, and all that; and then I'gad sink by de∣grees, till at last I write but little better than other Peo∣ple. And whereas most Authors creep servilely after the Old Fellows, and strive to grow upon their Readers; I take another Course, I bring in all my Characters to∣gether, and let 'em see I could go on with 'em; but I'gad, I wo'nt.

Iohn.

Could go on with 'em Mr. Bayes! there's no Body doubts that; You have a most particular Genius that way.

Bayes.

Oh! Dear Sir, You are mighty obliging: But I must needs say at a Fable or an Emblem I think no Man comes near me, indeed I have studied it more than any Man. Did you ever take notice, Mr. Iohnson, of a little thing that has taken mightily about Town, a Cat with a Top-knot?

Iohn.

Faith, Sir, 'tis mighty pretty, I saw it at the Coffee-House.

Bayes.

'Tis a Trifle hardly worth owning; I was t'other Day at Will's throwing out something of that Nature; and I'gad, the hint was taken, and out came that Picture; indeed the poor Fellow was so civil to present me with a dozen of 'em for my Friends, I think I have one here in my Pocket; would you please to ac∣cept it Mr Iohnson?

Iohn.

Really 'tis very ingenious.

Bayes.

Oh Lord! Nothing at all, I could design twenty of 'em in an Hour, if I had but witty Fellows about me to draw 'em. I was proffer'd a Pension to go into Holland, and contrive their Emblems. But hang 'em they are dull Rogues, and would spoil my Invention. But come, Gentlemen, let us return to our Business, and here I'le give you a delicate description of a Man.

Smith.

But how does that come in?

Bayes.

Come in? very naturally. I was talking of a Wolf and that supposes a Wood, and then I clap an E∣pithet to't, and call it a Celtic Wood: Now when I was there, I could not help thinking of the French Persecu∣tion, and I'gad from all these Thoughts I took occasion to rail at the French King, and show that he was not

of the same make with other Men, which thus I prove.

* 1.25The Divine Blacksmith in th' Abyss of Light, Yawning and lolling with a careless beat, Struck out the mute Creation at a Heat. But he work'd hard to Hammer out our Souls, He blew the Bellows, and stir'd up the Coals; Long time he thought and could not on a sudden * 1.26Knead up with unskim'd Milk this Reas'ning Pudding: Tender, and mild within its Bag it lay Confessing still the softness of its Clay, And kind as Milk-Maids on their Wedding-Day. Till Pride of Empire, Lust, and hot Desire Did over-boile him, like too great a Fire, And understanding grown, misunderstood, Burn'd Him to th' Pot, and sour'd his curdled Blood.

Iohn.

But sure this is a little prophane, Mr. Bayes.

Bayes.

Not at all: do's not Virgil bring in his God Vul∣can working at the Anvil?

Iohn.

Ay Sir, but never thought his Hands the fittest to make a Pudding.

Bayes.

Why do you imagin Him an Earthly dirty Blacksmith? 'Gad you make it prophane indeed. I'le tell you there's as much difference betwixt 'em, I'gad as betwixt my Man and Milton's. But now, Gentlemen, the Plot thickens, here comes my t'other Mouse, the City Mouse.

* 1.27A spotted Mouse, the prettiest next the White, Ah! were her Spots wash'd out, as pretty quite, * 1.28With Phylacteries on her Forehead spred, * 1.29Crozier in Hand, and Miter on her Head.

Three Steeples Argent on her Sable Shield.* 1.30 Liv'd in the City, and disdain'd the Field.

Iohn.

This is a glorious Mouse indeed! but, as you have dress'd her, we do'nt know whether she be Iew, Papist or Protestant.

Bayes.

Let me embrace you, Mr. Iohnson, for that; you take it right. She is a meer Babel of Religions, and therefore she's a spotted Mouse here, and will be a Mule presently. But to go on.

This Princess—

Smith.

What Princess, Mr. Bayes?

Bayes.

Why this Mouse, for I forgot to tell you, an Old Lyon made a left Hand Marriage with her Mother,* 1.31 and begot on her Body Elizabeth Schism, who was mar∣ried to Timothy Sacriledg, and had Issue Graceless Heresy. Who all give the same Coat with their Mother, Three Steeples Argent, as I told you before.

This Princess tho estrang'd from what was best, Was least Deform'd, because Reform'd the least.* 1.32

There's De and Re as good I'gad as ever was.

She in a Masquerade of Mirth and Love,* 1.33 Mistook the Bliss of Heaven for Bacchinals above, And grub'd the Thorns beneath our tender Feet, To make the Paths of Paradise more sweet.

There's a Jolly Mouse for you, let me see any Body else that can shew you such another. Here now have I one damnable severe reflecting Line, but I want a Rhime to it, can you help me Mr. Iohnson.

She — Humbly content to be despis'd at Home,

Iohn.

Which is too narrow Infamy for some.

Bayes.

Sir, I thank you, now I can go on with it.

* 1.34Whose Merits are diffus'd from Pole to Pole, Where Winds can carry, and where Waves can rowl.

Iohn.

But does not this reflect upon some of your Friends, Mr. Bayes?

Bayes.

'Tis no matter for that, let me alone to bring my self off. I'le tell you, lately I writ a damn'd Libel on a whole Party, sheer Point and Satyr all through, I'gad. Call'd 'em Rogues, Dogs, and all the Names I could think of, but with an exceeding deal of Wit; that I must needs say. Now it happen'd before I could finish this Peice, the Scheme of Affairs was altered, and those People were no longer Beasts: Here was a Plunge now: Should I lose my Labour, or Libel my Friend? 'Tis not every Body's Talent to find a Salvo for this: But what do me I but write a smooth delicate Preface, wherein I tell them that the Satyr was not intended to them, and this did the Business.

Smith.

But if it was not intended to them against whom it was writ, certainly it had no meaning at all.

Bayes.

Poh! There's the Trick on't. Poor Fools, they took it, and were satisfied: And yet it maul'd 'em dam∣nably I'gad.

Smith.

Why Faith, Mr. Bayes, there's this very Contrivance in the Preface to Dear Ioys Iests.

Bayes.

What a Devil do you think that I'd steal from such an Author? Or ever read it?

Smith.

I can't tell, but you sometimes read as bad. I have heard you quote Reynard the Fox.

Bayes.

Why there's it now; take it from me, Mr. Smith, there is as good Morality, and as found Precepts, in the delectable History of Reynard the Fox, as in any

Book I know, except Seneca. Pray tell me where in any other Author could I have found so pretty a Name for a Wolf as Isgrim? But prithee, Mr. Smith, give me no more trouble, and let me go on with my Mouse.

One Evening,* 1.35 when she went away from Court, Levee's and Couchee's past without resort.

There's Court Language for you; nothing gives a Verse so fine a turn as an Air of good Breeding.

Smith.

But methinks the Levee's and Couchee's of a Mouse are too great, especially when she is walking from Court to the cooler Shades.

Bayes.

I'gad now have you forgot what I told you that she was a Princess. But pray mind; here the two Mice meet.

She met the Country Mouse,* 1.36 whose fearful Face Beheld from far the common watering Place, Nor durst approach—

Smith.

Methinks, Mr. Bayes, this Mouse is strangely alter'd, since she fear'd no Danger.

Bayes.

Godsokers! Why no more she does not yet fear either Man or Beast: But, poor Creature, she's afraid of the Water, for she could not swim, as you see by this.

Nor durst approach,* 1.37 till with an awful Roar The Soveraign Lyon had her fear no more.

But besides, 'tis above thirty Pages off that I told you she fear'd no Danger; and I'gad if you will have no va∣riation of the Character, you must have the same thing over and over again; 'tis the Beauty of Writing to strike you still with something new. Well, but to proceed.

But when she had this sweetest Mouse in view, * 1.38Good Lord, how she admir'd her Heavenly Hiew!

Here now to show you I am Master of all Stiles, I let my self down from the Majesty of Virgil, to the Sweetness of Ovid.

Good Lord, how she admir'd her Heavenly Hiew!

What more easy and familiar! I writ this Line for the Ladies: The little Rogues will be so fond of me to find I can yet be so tender. I hate such a rough unhewen Fellow as Milton, that a Man must sweat to read Him; I'gad you may run over this and be almost asleep.

Th' Immortal Mouse who saw the Viceroy come So far to see Her, did invite her Home.

There's a pretty Name now for the Spotted Mouse, the Viceroy!

Smith.

But pray why d'e call her so?

Bayes.

Why! Because it sounds prettily: I'le call her the Crown-General presently if I've a mind to it.* 1.39 Well.

—did invite her Home To smoak a Pipe, and o're a sober Pot Discourse of Oates and Bedloe, and the Plot. * 1.40She made a Court'sy, like a Civil Dame, And,* 1.41 being much a Gentlewoman, came

Well, Gentlemen, here's my first part finish'd, and I think T have kept my Word with you, and given it the Majestick turn of Heroick Poesy. The rest being matter of Dispute, I had not such frequent occasion for the magni∣ficence of Verse, tho I'gad they speak very well. And I have heard Men, and considerable Men too, talk the very same things, a great deal worse.

Iohn.

Nay, without doubt, Mr. Bayes, they have received no small advantage from the smoothness of your numbers.

Bayes.

Ay, ay, I can do't, if I list: though you must not think I have been so dull as to mind these things my self, but 'tis the advantage of our Coffee-house, that from their talk one may write a very good polemical discourse, without ever troubling ones head with the Books of Controversie. For I can take the slightest of their Arguments, and clap 'em pertly into four Verses, which shall stare any London Divine in the face. Indeed your knotty Reasonings with a long train of Majors and Minors, and the Devil and all, are too barbarous for my stile; but 'i gad I can flourish better with one of these twinkling Arguments, than the best of 'em can fight with t'other. But we re∣turn to our Mouse, and now I've brought 'em together, let 'em 'en speak for themselves, which they will do extreamly well, or I'm mistaken: and pray observe, Gentlemen, if in one you don't find all the delicacy of a luxurious City-Mouse, and in the other all the plain simplicity of a sober serious Matron.

Dame,* 1.42 said the Lady of the Spotted Muff, Methinks your Tiff is sour, your Cates meer stuff.

There did not I tell you she'd be nice?

Your Pipe's so foul, that I disdain to smoak; And the Weed worse than e're Tom. I—s took.

Smith.

I did not hear she had a Spotted Muff before.

Bayes.

Why no more she has not now: but she has a Skin that might make a Spotted Muff. There's a pretty Figure now unknown to the Ancients.

Leave, leave († 1.43she's earnest you see) this hoary Shed and lonely Hills, And eat with me at Groleau's, smoak at Will's.

What Wretch would nibble on a Hanging-shelf, When at Pontack's he may Regale himself? Or to the House of cleanly Renish go; Or that at Charing-Cross, or that in Channel-Row?

Do you mark me now? I would by this represent the vanity of a Town-Fop, who pretends to be acquain∣ted at all those good Houses, though perhaps he nere was in 'em. But heark! she goes on.

Come, at a Crown a Head our selves we'll treat, Champain our Liquor, and Ragousts our Meat. Then hand in hand we'll go to Court, dear Cuz, To visit Bishop Martin, and King Buz. With Evening Wheels we'll drive about the Park, Finish at Locket's, and reel home i'th' Dark. Break clattering Windows, and demolish Doors * 1.44Of English Manufactures—Pimps, and Whores.

Iohn.

Methinks a Pimp or a Whore, is an odd sort of a Manufacture, Mr. Bayes.

Bayes.

I call 'em so, to give the Parliament a hint not to suffer so many of 'em to be exported, to the decay of Trade at home.

With these Allurements Spotted did invite From Hermits Cell, the Female Proselyte. Oh! with what ease we follow such a Guide, Where Souls are starv'd, and Senses gratifi'd.

Now would not you think she's going? but I gad, you're mistaken; you shall hear a long Argument a∣bout Infallibility, before she stirs yet.

* 1.45But here the White, by observation wise, Who long on Heaven had fixt her prying Eyes, With thoughtful Countenance, and grave Remark, Said, or my Judgment fails me, or 'tis dark.

Lest therefore we should stray, and not go right, Through the brown horrour of the starless Night. Hast thou Infallibility,* 1.46 that Wight? Sternly the Savage grin'd, and thus reply'd: That Mice may err, was never yet deny'd. That I deny, said the immortal Dame, There is a Guide—Gad I've forgot his Name,* 1.47 Who lives in Heaven or Rome, the Lord knows where, Had we but him, Sweet-heart, we could not err. But heark you,* 1.48 Sister, this is but a Whim; For still we want a Guide to find out Him.

Here you see I don't trouble my self to keep on the Narration, but write white Speaks or dapple Speaks by the side. But when I get any noble thought which I envy a Mouse should say, I clap it down in my own Person with a Poeta Loquitur;* 1.49 which, take notice, is a surer sign of a sine thing in my Writings, than a Hand in the Margent any-where else. Well now says White,

What need we find Him, we have certain proof That he is somewhere, Dame, and that's enough: For if there is a Guide that knows the way, Although we know not him, we cannot stray.

That's true, I Gad: Well said White. You see her Adversary has nothing to say for her self, and therefore to confirm the Victory, she shall make a Simile.

Smith.

Why then I find Similes are as good after Victory, as after a Surprize.

Bayes.

Every Jot, I Gad, or rather better. Well, she can do it two ways,* 1.50 either about Emission or Re∣ception of Light, or else about Epsom-waters, but I

think the last is most familiar; therefore speak, my pretty one.

As though 'tis controverted in the School, If Waters pass by Vrine or by Stool. Shall we who are Philosophers, thence gather From this dissention that they work by neither.

And I Gad, she's in the right on't; but mind now, she comes upon her swop!

All this I did, your Arguments to try.

And I Gad, if they had been never so good, this next Line confutes 'em.

* 1.51Hear, and be dumb, thou Wretch, that Guide am I.

There's a Surprize for you now! How sneakingly t'other looks? Was not that pretty now, to make her ask for a Guide first, and then tell her she was one? Who could have thought that this little Mouse had the Pope and a whole General Council in her Belly? Now Dapple had nothing to say to this; and there∣fore you'll see she grows peevish.

Come leave your Cracking tricks, and as they say, * 1.52Use not, that Barber that trims time, delay

Which I gad is new, and my own.

I've Eyes as well as you to find the way. Then on they jogg'd, and since an hour of talk Might cut a Banter on the tedious walk; As I remember said the sober Mouse, I've heard much talk of the Wits Coffee-House. Thither, says Brindle, thou shalt go, and see Priests sipping Coffee▪ Sparks and Poets Tea; Here rugged Freeze, there Quality well drest, These bafling the Grand-Seigniour; those the Test▪

And hear shrew'd guesses made, and reasons given, That humane Laws were never made in Heaven.* 1.53 But above all, what shall oblige thy sight, And fill thy Eye-Balls with a vast delight; Is the Poetic Iudge of sacred Wit, Who do's i' th' Darkness of his Glory sit. And as the Moon who first receives the light,* 1.54 With which she makes these neither Regions bright; So does he shine, reflecting from a far, The Rayes he borrow'd from a better Star: For rules which from Corneille and Rapin slow, Admir'd by all the scribling Herd below. From French Tradition while he does dispence, Unerring Truths, 'tis Schism, a damn'd offence, To question his, or trust your private sense.

Hah! Is not that right, Mr. Iohnson? Gad for∣give me he is fast a sleep! Oh the damn'd stupidity of this Age! a sleep! Well, Sir, Since you'r so drousy, your humble Servant.

Iohns.

Nay, Pray Mr. Bayes, Faith I heard you all the while. The white Mouse.

Bayes.

The white Mouse! ay, ay, I thought how you heard me. Your Servant, Sir, your Servant.

Iohn.

Nay, Dear Bayes, Faith I beg thy Pardon, I was up late last Night, Prithee lend me a little Snuff, and go on.

Bayes.

Go on! Pox I don't know where I was, well I'll begin. Here, mind, now they are both come to Town.

But now at Peccadille they arrive, And taking Coach, t'wards Temple-Bar they drive; But at St. Clement's Church, eat out the Back; And slipping through the Palsgrave, bilkt poor Hack.

There's the Vtile which ought to be in all Poetry, Many a young Templer will save his shilling by this Stratagem of my Mice.

Smith.

Why, will any young Templer eat out the back of a Coach?

Bayes.

No, I gad, but you'll grant it is mighty natural for a Mouse.

Thence to the Devil, and ask'd if Chanticleer, * 1.55Of Clergy kind, or Councellour Chough was there; Or Mr. Dove, a Pigeon of Renown, * 1.56By his high crop, and corny Gizzard known, * 1.57Or Sister Partlet, with the Hooded head; No, Sir. She's hooted hence, said Will, and fled. Why so? Because she would not pray a Bed.

Iohn.

aside.

'Sdeath! Who can keep awake at such stuff? Pray, Mr. Bayes, lend me your Box again.

Bayes.

Mr. Iohnson, How d'e like that Box? Pray take notice of it, 'twas given me by a person of Ho∣nour for looking over a Paper of Verses; and indeed I put in all the lines that were worth any thing in the whole Poem. Well, but where were we? Oh! Here they are, just going up stairs into the Apollo; from whence my White takes occasion to talk very well of Tradition.

Thus to the place where Iohnson sat we climb, Leaning on the same Rail that guided him; And whilst we thus on equal helps rely, Our Wit must be as true, our thoughts as high. * 1.58For as an Author happily compares Tradition to a well-sixt pair of Stairs, So this the Scala Sancta we believe, By which his Traditive Genius we receive.

Thus every step I take my Spirits soar, And I grow more a Wit, and more, and more.

There's humour! Is not that the liveliest Image in the World of a Mouses going up a pair of Stairs. More a Wit, and more and more?

Smith.

Mr. Bayes, I beg your Pardon heartily, I must be rude, I have a particular Engagement at this time, and I see you are not near an end yet.

Bayes.

Godsokers! Sure you won't serve me so: All my finest Discriptions and best Discourse is yet to come.

Smith.

Troth, Sir, if 'twere not an Extraordinary concern I could not leave you.

Bayes.

Well; but you shall take a little more, and here I'll pass over two dainty Episodes of Swallows, Swifts, Chickens, and Buzzards.

Iohns.

I know not why they should come in, ex∣cept to make yours the longest Fable that ever was told.

Bayes.

Why, the excellence of a Fable is in the length of it. AEsop indeed, like a Slave as he was, made little, short, simple stories, with a dry Moral at the end of 'em; and could not form any noble de∣sign. But here I give you Fable upon Fable; and after you are satisfied with Beasts in the first course, serve you up a delicate Dish of Fowl for the second; now I was at all this pains to abuse one particular person; for I gad I'll tell you what a trick he serv'd me.* 1.59 I was once translating a very good French Au∣thor, but being something long about it, as you know a Man is not always in the Humour; What does this Iack do, but put's out an Answer to my Friend before I had half finished the Translation: so

there was three whole Months lost upon his Account. But I think I have my revenge on him sufficiently, for I let all the World know,* 1.60 that he is a tall, broad∣back'd, lusty fellow, of a brown Complexion, fair Beha∣viour, a Fluent Tongue, and taking amongst the Wo∣men; and to top it all that he's much a Scholar, more a Wit, and owns but two Sacraments. Don't you think this Fellow will hang himself? But besides, I have so nickt his Character in a Name as will make you split. I call him — I gad I won't tell you unless you remember what I said of him.

Smith.

Why that he was much a Scholar, and more a Wit —

Bayes.

Right; and his name is Buzzard, ha! ha! ha.

Iohns.

Very proper indeed, Sir.

Bayes.

Nay, I have a farther fetch in it yet than perhaps you imagine; for his true name begins with a B, which makes me slily contrive him this, to be∣gin with the same Letter: There's a pretty device, Mr. Iohnson; I learn'd it, I must needs confess, from that ingenious sport, I love my Love with an A, be∣cause she's Amiable; and if you could but get a knot of merry Fellows together, you should see how little Bayes would top 'em all at it, I gad.

Smith.

Well, but good Faith, Mr. Bayes, I must leave you, I am half an hour past my time.

Bayes.

Well, I've done, I've done. Here are eight hundred Verses upon a rainy Night, and a Birds-Nest; and here's three hundred more, Translated from two Paris Gazets, in which the Spotted Mouse gives an ac∣count of the Treaty of Peace between the Czars of Muscovy, and the Emperour, which is a piece of News. White does not believe, and this is her Answer. I am resolv'd you shall hear it, for in it I have taken occa∣sion

to prove Oral Tradition better than Scripture. Now you must know, 'tis sincerely my Opinion, that it had been better for the World, if we nere had any Bibles at all.

E're that Gazet was printed, said the White, Our Robin told another story quite; This Oral Truth more safely I believ'd, My Ears cannot, your Eyes may be deceiv'd. By word of Mouth unerring Maxims slow, And Preaching's best, if understood, or no. Words I confess bound by,* 1.61 and trip so light, We have not time to take a steady sight; Yet sleeting thus are plainer then when Writ, To long Examination they submit.

Hard things — Mr. Smith, if these two lines don't recompence your stay, ne'r trust Iohn Bayes again.

Hard things at the first Blush are clear and full, God mends at second thoughts, but Man grows dull.

I gad I judge of all Men by my self, 'tis so with me, I never strove to be very exact in any thing but I spoil'd it.

Smith.

But allowing your Character to be true, is it not a little too severe?

Bayes.

'Tis no matter for that, these general re∣flections are daring, and savour most of a noble Ge∣nius, that spares neither Friend nor Foe.

Iohn.

Are you never afraid of a drubbing for that daring of your noble Genius?

Bayes.

Afraid! Why Lord you make so much of a beating, I' gad 'tis no more to me than a Flea biting. No, No, if I can but be witty upon 'em, let 'em en lay on, I Faith, I'll ne'r baulk my fancy to save my

Carkass. Well, but we must dispatch, Mr. Smith.

Thus did they merrily carouse all day, And like the gaudy fly their Wings display; And sip the sweets, and bask in great Apollo's ray.

Well there's an end of the Entertainment; and Mr. Smith, if your affairs would have permitted, you would have heard the best Bill of Fare that ever was serv'd up in Heroicks: but here follows a dispute shall recommend it self, I'll say nothing for it. For Dapple, who you must know was a Protestant, all this while trusts her own Judgment, and foolishly dislikes the Wine; upon which our Innocent does so run her down, that she has not one word to say for her self, but what I put in her Mouth; and I gad, you may imagine they won't be very good ones, for she has disoblig'd me, like an Ingrate.

Sirrah, says Brindle, Thou hast brought us Wine, Sour to my tast, and to my Eyes unfine. Says Will, all Gentlemen like it, ah! says White, What is approv'd by them, must needs be right. * 1.62'Tis true, I thought it bad, but if the House Commend it, I submit, a private Mouse.

Mind that, mind the Decorum, and Defference, which our Mouse pays to the Company.

Nor to their Catholic consent oppose My erring Judgment, and reforming Nose.

Ah! ah! there she has nick't her, that's up to the Hilts, I gad, and you shall see Dapple resents it.

Why, what a Devil shan't I trust my Eyes? Must I drink Stum because the Rascal lyes?

And palms upon us Catholic consent, To give sophisticated Brewings vent. Says White,* 1.63 What ancient Evidence can sway, If you must Argue thus and not obey? Drawers must be trusted, through whose hands con∣vey'd, You take the Liquor, or you spoil the Trade. For sure those Honest Fellows have no knack Of putting off stum'd Claret for Pontack. How long, alas! would the poor Vintner last, If all that drink must judge, and every Guest Be allowed to have an understanding Tast? Thus she: Nor could the Panther well inlarge, With weak defence, against so strong a Charge.

There I call her a Panther, because she's spotted, which is such a blot to the Reformation, as I warrant 'em they will never claw off, I Gad.

But with a weary Yawn that shew'd her pride, Said, Spotless was a Villain, and she lyed. White saw her canker'd Malice at that word, And said her Prayers, and drew her Delphic Sword. T'other cry'd Murther, and her Rage restrain'd: And thus her passive Character maintain'd. But now alas—

Mr. Iohnson, pray mind me this; Mr. Smith, I'll ask you to stay no longer, for this that follows is so engaging; hear me but two Lines, I Gad, and go a∣way afterwards if you can.

But now, alas, I grieve, I grieve to tell What sad mischance these pretty things befel These Birds of Beasts—

There's a tender Expression, Birds of Beasts: 'tis the greatest Affront that you can put upon any Bird,

to call it,* 1.64 Beast of a Bird: and a Beast is so fond of be∣ing call'd a Bird, as you can't imagine.

These Birds of Beasts, these learned Reas'ning Mice, Were separated, banish'd in a trice. Who would be learned for their sakes, who wise?

Ay, who indeed? There's a Patho's, I Gad, Gentle∣men, if that won't move you, nothing will, I can assure you: But here's the sad thing I was afraid of.

The Constable alarm'd by this noise, Enter'd the Room, directed by the voice, * 1.65And speaking to the Watch, with head aside, Said, Desperate Cures must be to desperate Ills apply'd. These Gentlemen, for so their Fate decrees, * 1.66Can n'ere enjoy at once the But and Peace. * 1.67When each have separated Interests of their own, Two Mice are one too many for a Town. By Schism they are torn; and therefore, Brother, Look you to one, and I'll secure the t'other. Now whither Dapple did to Bridewell go, * 1.68Or in the Stocks all night her Finger blow, Or in the Compter lay, concerns not us to know. But the immortal Matron, spotless White, Forgetting Dapple's Rudeness, Malice, Spight, Look'd kindly back, and wept, and said, Good Night. * 1.69Ten thousand Watchmen waited on this Mouse, With Bills, and Halberds, to her Country-House.

This last Contrivance I had from a judicious Au∣thor, that makes Ten thousand Angels wait upon his Hind, and she asleep too, I Gad. —

Iohn.

Come, let's see what we have to pay.

Bayes.

What a Pox, are you in such hast? You han't told me how you like it.

Iohn.

Oh, extreamly well. Here, Drawer.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Pref. p. 1.
• * 1.2

  Pref. ib.
• * 1.3

  Pref. ib.
• * 1.4

  Page 5.
• * 1.5

  Page 21.
• * 1.6

  Ibid.
• * 1.7

  Page 5.
• * 1.8

  Pag. 1.
• * 1.9

  Pag. 1.
• * 1.10

  Pag 2.
• * 1.11

  Pag. 2.
• * 1.12

  Pag. 2.
• * 1.13

  Pag. 3.
• * 1.14

  Pag. 3.
• * 1.15

  Pag. 3.
• * 1.16

  Pag. 3.
• * 1.17

  Pag. 3.
• * 1.18

  Pag. 4.
• * 1.19

  Pag. 10.
• * 1.20

  Pag. 11.
• * 1.21

  Pag. 39.
• * 1.22

  Pag. 11.
• * 1.23

  Pag. 11.
• * 1.24

  Pag. 12.
• * 1.25

  Pag. 15.
• * 1.26

  Pag. 16.
• * 1.27

  Pag. 19.
• * 1.28

  Pag. 23.
• * 1.29

  Pag. 22.
• * 1.30

  Pag. 84.
• * 1.31

  Pag. 20.
• * 1.32

  Pag. 23.
• * 1.33

  Pag. 22.
• * 1.34

  Pag. 63.
• * 1.35

  Pag. 29.
• * 1.36

  Pag. 16.
• * 1.37

  Pag. 30.
• * 1.38

  Pag. 30.
• * 1.39

  Pag. 55.
• * 1.40

  Pag. 31.
• * 1.41

  Pag. 32.
• * 1.42

  Pag. 32.
• † 1.43

  Poeta Lo∣quitur.
• * 1.44

  Pag. 63.
• * 1.45

  Pag. 69.
• * 1.46

  Pag. 37.
• * 1.47

  Pag. 37.
• * 1.48

  Spotted Mouse, Loquitur.
• * 1.49

  Pag. 69.
• * 1.50

  Pag. 37.
• * 1.51

  Pag. 54.
• * 1.52

  Pag. 101.
• * 1.53

  Pag. 111.
• * 1.54

  Pag. 28.
• * 1.55

  Pag. 133.
• * 1.56

  Pag. 126.
• * 1.57

  Pag. 130.
• * 1.58

  Pag. 45.
• * 1.59

  Varillas.
• * 1.60

  Pag. 137.
• * 1.61

  Pag. 3.
• * 1.62

  Pag. 38.
• * 1.63

  Pag. 5.
• * 1.64

  Pag. 129.
• * 1.65

  Pag. 135.
• * 1.66

  Pag. 115.
• * 1.67

  Pag. 144.
• * 1.68

  Pag. 98.
• * 1.69

  Pag. 145.