Aesop at Court Or, State Fables. Vol. I [by Thomas Yalden] |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. | FAB. III. The Blind Woman and her Doctors.
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| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
 | Aesop at Court |  |
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FAB. III. The Blind Woman and her Doctors.
A wealthy Matron now grown old,
Was weak in e'ry part:
Afflicted sore with Rheums and Cold,
Yet pretty sound at Heart.
Was weak in e'ry part:
Afflicted sore with Rheums and Cold,
Yet pretty sound at Heart.
But most her Eyes began to fail,
Depriv'd of needful light:
Nor cou'd her Spectacles avail,
To rectify their Sight.
Depriv'd of needful light:
Nor cou'd her Spectacles avail,
To rectify their Sight.
Receipts she try'd, she Doctors Feed,
And spar'd for no Advice:
Of Men of Skill, or Quacks for need
That practise on sore Eyes.
And spar'd for no Advice:
Of Men of Skill, or Quacks for need
That practise on sore Eyes.
Salves they dawb'd on, and Plaisters both,
And this, and that was done:
Then Flannels, and a Forehead-cloath,
To bind and keep them on.
And this, and that was done:
Then Flannels, and a Forehead-cloath,
To bind and keep them on.
Her House tho' small, was furnish'd neat,
And e'ry Room did shine:
With Pictures, Tapestry and Plate,
All Rich, and wondrous fine.
And e'ry Room did shine:
With Pictures, Tapestry and Plate,
All Rich, and wondrous fine.
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Whilst they kept blind the silly Soul,
Their hands found work enough!
They pilfer'd Plate and Goods they stole,
Till all was carry'd off.
Their hands found work enough!
They pilfer'd Plate and Goods they stole,
Till all was carry'd off.
When they undam'd their Patients Eyes,
And now pray how's your Sight:
Crys tother, this was my advice,
I knew't wou'd Set you right.
And now pray how's your Sight:
Crys tother, this was my advice,
I knew't wou'd Set you right.
Like a Stuck Pig the Woman star'd,
And up and down she run:
With naked House, and Walls, quite Scar'd,
She found her-self undone.
And up and down she run:
With naked House, and Walls, quite Scar'd,
She found her-self undone.
Doctors quoth she, your Cure's my pain,
For what are Eyes to me:
Bring Salves and Forehead-Cloaths again,
I've nothing left to see.
For what are Eyes to me:
Bring Salves and Forehead-Cloaths again,
I've nothing left to see.
The MORAL.
See injur'd Brittain thy unhappy Case,
Thou Patient with distemper'd Eyes:
State Quacks but nourish the Disease,
And thrive by Treacherous Advice.
Thou Patient with distemper'd Eyes:
State Quacks but nourish the Disease,
And thrive by Treacherous Advice.
If fond of the Expensive pain,
When eighteen Millions run on Score:
Let them clap Muflers on again,
And Physick Thee of Eighteen more.
When eighteen Millions run on Score:
Let them clap Muflers on again,
And Physick Thee of Eighteen more.
| Aesop at Court | |