Truth in Fiction Or, Morality in Masquerade. A Collection of Two hundred twenty five Select Fables of Aesop, and other Authors. Done into English Verse. By Edmund Arwaker |
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| XXXVII. | FABLE XXXVII. The Buffoon, and Bishop:
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 | Truth in Fiction |  |
145
FABLE XXXVII. The Buffoon, and Bishop:
Or, Little valu'd, lightly quitted.
A loose
Buffoon, whose Living was by Shifts,
On New-Year's-Day stroll'd round the Town for Gifts;
And first attack'd the Bishop, whom he knew
A wealthy Prelate, but as greedy too:
To prove whose Bounty, he made high Demands,
And ask'd a Guinea from his Lordship's Hands.
My Lord, who rarely did such Gifts bestow,
Judg'd the Man mad, or that he thought him so;
And his unreasonable Suit deny'd.
The Man, repuls'd, again his Goodness try'd;
Yet from his first Extravagance came down,
And lower'd his Request to Half-a-Crown:
Then, finding that too large a Sum was thought,
Became more mod'rate, and requir'd a Groat.
Still the close Prelate (whose contracted Heart,
With what possess'd it most, abhorr'd to part)
Thought that too much. At which the Fellow rav'd,
And, to expose him, next his Blessing crav'd.
The Bishop, pleas'd to find him thus abate,
And glad to scape at such an easie Rate,
(Because his Purse no want of that wou'd feel)
Did readily comply, and bid him kneel.
No, answer'd he, your Blessing I despise,
Which at so vile an Estimate you prise:
For you, who Heav'ns most lib'ral Gifts abuse,
Wou'd that, if valu'd at a Groat, refuse.
On New-Year's-Day stroll'd round the Town for Gifts;
And first attack'd the Bishop, whom he knew
A wealthy Prelate, but as greedy too:
To prove whose Bounty, he made high Demands,
And ask'd a Guinea from his Lordship's Hands.
My Lord, who rarely did such Gifts bestow,
Judg'd the Man mad, or that he thought him so;
And his unreasonable Suit deny'd.
The Man, repuls'd, again his Goodness try'd;
Yet from his first Extravagance came down,
And lower'd his Request to Half-a-Crown:
Then, finding that too large a Sum was thought,
Became more mod'rate, and requir'd a Groat.
Still the close Prelate (whose contracted Heart,
With what possess'd it most, abhorr'd to part)
Thought that too much. At which the Fellow rav'd,
And, to expose him, next his Blessing crav'd.
The Bishop, pleas'd to find him thus abate,
And glad to scape at such an easie Rate,
(Because his Purse no want of that wou'd feel)
Did readily comply, and bid him kneel.
No, answer'd he, your Blessing I despise,
Which at so vile an Estimate you prise:
146
Wou'd that, if valu'd at a Groat, refuse.
The MORAL.
‘Thus greedy Priests, who (for the Trust unfit)‘Love not the Office like the Perquisite;
‘Freely dispense Heaven's Treasure to the Poor;
‘But keep their own, because they prise it more.
| Truth in Fiction | |