Aesop at Court Or, State Fables. Vol. I [by Thomas Yalden] |
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| XVI. | FAB. XVI. A Laconick Condemn'd.
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 | Aesop at Court |  |
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FAB. XVI. A Laconick Condemn'd.
A sage
Laconick, truly Wise,
Whose Conversation was Concise,
Train'd up in rigid Schools:
Once when a Single word wou'd do,
Had Lavishly made use of two,
In high Contempt of Rules.
Whose Conversation was Concise,
Train'd up in rigid Schools:
Once when a Single word wou'd do,
Had Lavishly made use of two,
In high Contempt of Rules.
A Bill against him was prefer'd
The charge by Evidence aver'd,
That fully prov'd the fact:
The Judges aggravate the Crime,
In words as few, and little time,
As answer'd Men compact.
The charge by Evidence aver'd,
That fully prov'd the fact:
The Judges aggravate the Crime,
In words as few, and little time,
As answer'd Men compact.
Quoth one, the being too Verbose,
A Misdemenour is so gross,
Of that pernicious kind!
The Punishment must reach your Sense,
And Reason Smart for this offence,
By Torturing your Mind.
A Misdemenour is so gross,
Of that pernicious kind!
The Punishment must reach your Sense,
And Reason Smart for this offence,
By Torturing your Mind.
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Read Jura Populi o'er twice,
Pittis and Bunyan Books of price!
And Oats's modest vein:
Read Baxter's Volums, T---ls Works,
York-shire Petish with that of Bucks,
True Cant, and Libel Strein.
Pittis and Bunyan Books of price!
And Oats's modest vein:
Read Baxter's Volums, T---ls Works,
York-shire Petish with that of Bucks,
True Cant, and Libel Strein.
For Solid Nonsense, thoughtless Words,
The Vindication of the Lords,
That answers Mackworths State:
Read first and second Paragraph,
If possible drudge on thrô half,
Your Crime you'l Expiate.
The Vindication of the Lords,
That answers Mackworths State:
Read first and second Paragraph,
If possible drudge on thrô half,
Your Crime you'l Expiate.
The Wretch with Strong Convulsions shook,
Despair and anguish in his look,
To Heaven for Mercy cry'd:
Quoth he send Gibbets, Racks, or Wheell,
Algiers, and Gallies please me well,
Such Torments I'll abide.
Despair and anguish in his look,
To Heaven for Mercy cry'd:
Quoth he send Gibbets, Racks, or Wheell,
Algiers, and Gallies please me well,
Such Torments I'll abide.
But Damn me not for one offence,
To Volums unally'd to Sense,
Vainly to wast my Breath:
That answer to the Commons Rights,
With Labour'd dullness so affrights,
The thoughts are worse than Death.
To Volums unally'd to Sense,
Vainly to wast my Breath:
That answer to the Commons Rights,
With Labour'd dullness so affrights,
The thoughts are worse than Death.
FINIS.
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