Fab. LXXXII. Hercules and a Carter.
A Loaded Waggon stuck in a deep Way,
Immersd, up to the Axtle-trees, in Mud,
And by't the idle Driver mourning stood,
Complaining of his Fate, and begging help
Of Hercules, who at his call appeard,
And thus admonishd him; Do first what you can,
Goad the Oxen, put your Shoulders to the Wheels.
In your distress you should have workd, not prayd,
That's the securest way to obtain Gods aid.
The Moral.
The Gods help none but those who help their selves.
Others out of J. C. This may be so translated
God provides meat for Birds, but they must fetch it
Roast Pigeons fly not into any Mans mouth.
Poverty is the Wages of Idleness.
Who will get, must Sweat.
They who will have Eggs, must bear with the cackling of the Hens.
Nothing falls into the mouth of a sleeping Fox.
Put to your hand, then cry, God speed the Plow.
Labour Gods Help procures.
Make bare your Arm, then cry God help.
No Sheep run into th' mouths of sleeping Wolves.
He that will kill a Hog, must endure his noise.
A Crow upon the Wing, finds something to eat.
Out of J. C. That is
Who'll gather Roses, must endure the Thorns.
Who will eat Honey, must not fear the Bees.
'Tis not enuf to wish Corn were i'th' Mow.
The Hands must quit the Muff, and hold the Plow.
Another out of the same. That is
The Mill that moves not, no Corn grinds.
The Fox that Hunts not, no Prey finds.
