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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XVI. | FABLE XVI. The Mourning Wife:
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Truth in Fiction | ||
118
FABLE XVI. The Mourning Wife:
Or, Self-Love most prevalent.
A virtuous Wife, who did her Husband prise
Above all Objects else that pleas'd her Eyes,
Found, by his Sickness, all her Joys allay'd:
So soon do Flow'rs of worldly Pleasures fade.
She Sigh'd, she Wept, and made continual Moan,
And, to redeem his Life, wou'd give her own.
Grim Death appear'd, the Ransom to demand,
And put the frighted Lady to a Stand:
Her hasty Offer she did soon repent,
And thought she strain'd too far the Compliment:
Wisely consid'ring, (tho' the Fate was hard)
Since one must die, he might as well be spar'd:
And she, who did for her Old Mate complain,
Might, by a New, be comforted again.
Since then to either Choice she must be forc'd,
And from her Husband, or the World, divorc'd;
To part with him, she rather did encline,
And not so soon her own sweet Life resign.
Resolv'd on this, she gently Death bespoke;
Take heed you do not mis-direct your Stroke:
You see I am not in the way to die;
'Tis my poor Husband there, is sick, not I;
And tho' I gladly his Reprieve wou'd get,
I cannot think of making Worms-meat yet.
Above all Objects else that pleas'd her Eyes,
Found, by his Sickness, all her Joys allay'd:
So soon do Flow'rs of worldly Pleasures fade.
She Sigh'd, she Wept, and made continual Moan,
And, to redeem his Life, wou'd give her own.
Grim Death appear'd, the Ransom to demand,
And put the frighted Lady to a Stand:
Her hasty Offer she did soon repent,
And thought she strain'd too far the Compliment:
Wisely consid'ring, (tho' the Fate was hard)
Since one must die, he might as well be spar'd:
And she, who did for her Old Mate complain,
Might, by a New, be comforted again.
Since then to either Choice she must be forc'd,
And from her Husband, or the World, divorc'd;
To part with him, she rather did encline,
And not so soon her own sweet Life resign.
Resolv'd on this, she gently Death bespoke;
Take heed you do not mis-direct your Stroke:
You see I am not in the way to die;
'Tis my poor Husband there, is sick, not I;
And tho' I gladly his Reprieve wou'd get,
I cannot think of making Worms-meat yet.
119
The MORAL.
‘Few Men their Friends to such excess adore,‘But that their Value for themselves is more:
‘Self-Love outweighs what else they hold most dear;
‘The Skin is nearer, tho' the Shirt be near.
Truth in Fiction | ||