With easy faith to back their base deceit:
From house to house the plague of discord spreads,
And brings down ruin on their hapless heads.
Reflection.
Busy-bodies and intermeddlers are a dangerous sort of people to have to do withal; for there is no mischief that may not be wrought by the craft and management of a double tongue, with a foolish credulity to work upon. There is hardly a greater pest to government, to conversation, to the peace of societies, relations, and families, than officious tale-bearers and busy intermeddlers. These pick-thanks are enough to set mankind together by the ears; they live upon calumny and slander, and cover themselves, too, under the seal of secrecy and friendship; these are the people who set their neighbours’ houses on fire to roast their own eggs. The sin of traducing is diabolical, according to the very letter; and if the office be artificially managed, it is enough to put the whole world into a flame, and nobody the wiser which way it came. The mischief may be promoted, by misrepresenting, misunderstanding, or misinterpreting our neighbour’s thoughts, words, and deeds; and no wound so mortal, as that where the poison works under a pretence of kindness: nay, there are ways of commendation, and insinuations of affection and esteem, that kill a man as sure as a bullet. This practice is the bane of trust and confidence; and it is as frequent in the intrigues of courts and states, as in the most ordinary accidents of life. It is enough to break the neck of all honest purposes, to stifle all generous and public-spirited motions, and to suppress all honourable inclinations in the very conception. But, next to the practice of these lewd offices, deliver all honest men, say I, from lying at the mercy of those that encourage and entertain them.
Fable XLI.
The Cock and the Fox.
A Cock being perched among the branches of a lofty Tree, crowed aloud, so that the shrillness of his voice echoed through the wood and invited a Fox to the place, who was prowling in that neighbourhood, in quest of his prey. But Reynard, finding the Cock was inaccessible, by reason of the height of his situation, had recourse to stratagem, in order to decoy him down; so, approaching the tree, Cousin, says he, I am heartily glad to see you; but at the same time I cannot forbear expressing my uneasiness at the inconvenience of the place, which will not let me pay my respects to you in a handsomer manner; though I suppose you will come down presently, and so that difficulty is easily removed. Indeed, Cousin, says the Cock, to tell you the truth I don’t think it safe to venture myself upon the ground, for though I am convinced how much you are my friend, yet I may have the misfortune to fall into the clutches of some other beast, and what will become of me then? O dear, says Reynard, is it possible that you can be so ignorant, as not to know of the peace that has been lately proclaimed between all kinds of birds and beasts; and that we are, for the future, to forbear hostilities on all sides, and to live in the utmost love and harmony, and that under penalty of suffering the severest punishment that can be inflicted? All this while the Cock seemed to give little attention to what was said, but stretched out his neck, as if he saw something at a distance: Cousin, says the Fox, what’s that you look at so earnestly? Why, says the Cock, I think I see a pack of hounds yonder a little way off. Oh then, says the Fox, your humble servant, I must be gone. Nay, pray, Cousin, don’t go, says the Cock, I’m just coming down; sure you are not afraid of dogs in these peaceable times. No, no, says he; but ten to one whether they have heard of the proclamation yet.