University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
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
  

expand sectionI. 
expand sectionII. 
collapse sectionIII. 
expand sectionI. 
 II. 
expand sectionIII. 
 IV. 
expand sectionV. 
expand sectionVI. 
expand sectionVII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
expand sectionXI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
expand sectionXV. 
 XVI. 
expand sectionXVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
expand sectionXXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
expand sectionXXV. 
expand sectionXXVI. 
expand sectionXXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
expand sectionXXIX. 
 XXX. 
expand sectionXXXI. 
 XXXII. 
expand sectionXXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXV. 
expand sectionXXXIX. 
expand sectionXL. 
expand sectionXLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XLIX. 
 L. 
expand sectionLI. 
expand sectionLII. 
 LIII. 
expand sectionLIV. 
expand sectionLV. 
 LVI. 
expand sectionLVII. 
expand sectionLVIII. 
expand sectionIV. 

Men, by their Folly, brought to Grief or Shame,
Still on the guiltless Devil lay the Blame;
And that they may their faulty selves excuse,
No conscience make how they Old-Nick abuse.
This he observ'd, and (vex'd to be bely'd)
All proper Means for his Purgation try'd:
And soon a fair Occasion did present,
That justify'd him to his Heart's Content.

194

As he, one Morn, an early Ramble took,
He saw a Plum-tree, hanging o'er a Brook,
Laden with Fruit, that seem'd delicious Meat,
And might have tempted Eve again to eat.
Close at the Foot an Aged Beldam stood,
Whose toothless Gums requir'd such easie Food;
And, eager as a Longing Wife to taste,
She clim'd the Tree with an incautious Haste.
The knowing Spirit, who foresaw her Fall,
To clear himself, did Evidences call:
Observe the Hoidon how she climbs, said he,
Not instigated to the Fact by me;
Yet when she falls, (for soon she will be down,
And break her Bones, or in the Water drown)
The Blame will wholly at my Door be laid;
None will her Folly, all my Guilt, upbraid.
This said, she fell, and broke her Collar-bone,
And rais'd the Neighbours with her hideous Moan:
Who thus alarm'd, and flocking to her Aid,
Ask'd, why she had that idle Gambol play'd.
Alas! said she, 'twas not my Fault at all,
'Twas the foul Fiend that made me climb, and fall.
Satan, (that, undiscern'd, stood by, and heard
Himself accus'd) assoon as nam'd, appear'd;
And cry'd, 'Tis false, I did not you deceive,
'Twas the old Liqu'rice Lust of Grandam Eve:
Here are my Proofs; for, tho' bely'd by you,
These honest Men will give the Dev'l his Due.