"Dere is boht the hony that is licked of the thorne
Quoth Hendyng."
Where counsel fails, experience may step in and exact a higher price for the lesson taught:
"So that child withdraweth is hond
From the fur ant the brond
That hath byfore ben brend
Brend child fur dredeth
Quoth Hendyng."[72:A]
The Italians still more powerfully say that "A scalded dog dreads cold water," the meaning of this clearly being that those who have suffered in any direction have an exaggerated fear in consequence, and are afraid, even when there is no cause, really, for terror. This idea is even more strongly brought out in the old Rabbinical adage, "He who has been bitten by a serpent fears a piece of rope," a quite imaginable state of mind to arrive at.[72:B]
Up till now we have shown how one writer may use many proverbs; we will turn to the other alternative and seek to show how one proverb is used by many writers. In doing so we are at once struck by the variety of garb in which it may appear. The inner spirit and meaning, the core, remains inviolate naturally, but its presentation to us is by no means in one set formula. We are warned not to judge alone by outward appearance, nor to assume too hastily precious metal in what may prove to be but dross or a poor counterfeit of the real thing. Hence Chaucer warns us, "All thing which that shineth as the gold He is no gold, as I have heard it told." Lydgate, writing on "the Mutability of human affairs," declares truly enough that "all is not golde that outward showeth bright"; while Spenser, in his "Faerie Queene," hath it that "Gold all is not that doth golden seem"; and Shakespeare, in the "Merchant of Venice," writes, "All that glisters is not gold."[73:A] Dryden's version, in the "Hind and Panther," is very similar, "All, as they say, that glitters is not gold"; and Herbert, in the "Jacula Prudentum," reverses the wording into "All is not gold that glisters." In "Ralph Roister Doister" we find the reading, "All things that shineth is not by and by pure gold"; while the Italians have the equivalent, "Non é oro tutto quel che luce."
In Greene's "Perimedes," published in the year 1588, we find the passage, "Though men do determine the gods doo dispose, and oft times many things fall out betweene the cup and the lip." The first portion of this passage is almost invariably cited in French—"l'homme propose et le Dieu dispose"—giving the impression that the saying is of Gallic origin. How far back into the ages this proverb goes we cannot trace. We find it in the "Imitation of Christ" of Thomas à Kempis as, "Nam homo proponit sed Deus disponit." It is possible that the French rendering became current in our midst because the "Imitation," when first translated from the original Latin, was rendered into French. The book at once sprang into notice and esteem, and the passages under our consideration would be noticeable not only from its declaration of a great truth but from its rhythm—a rhythm that was well preserved in its French rendering. The French translation of the "Imitation of Christ" appeared in 1488, while the first English version was not produced till the year 1502. In the "Vision of Piers ploughman," written somewhere about the year 1360, we find the saying given in Latin, while George Herbert, who died in 1633, introduces it as "Man proposeth, God disposeth."
The possibilities that may exist in the short interval of time between raising the cup to the lips and setting it down again are made the subject of a warning proverb that is of immense antiquity. The Samian king, Ancæus, while planting a vineyard was warned by a diviner that he would not live to take its fruits. Time passed on and the vineyard prospered, until at length one day the king, goblet in hand, was to taste for the first time the wine it had yielded. He recalled the prophecy, and derided the power of the seer as he stood before him. At this moment a messenger arrived with the news that a wild boar was ravaging the vineyard, and Ancæus, hastily putting down the cup, seized his spear and rushed out to slay the boar, but himself fell a victim to the onslaught of the furious beast.[74:A] Thus, to quote a considerably more modern authority, Jonson's "Tale of a Tub," "you see the old adage verified—many things fall between the cup and lip."
It is a wise rule of conduct to bear in mind that great offence may be given by comparing one thing with another, as the process is almost sure to end to the more or less detriment of one or the other, or possibly, when the spirit of criticism is rampant, in the depreciation of both. Hence Lydgate writes in 1554, "Comparisons do oftimes great grevance," and in More's "Dial" the idea recurs—"Comparysons be odyouse." Gascoigne, in the year 1575, declares in his "Posies," "I will forbear to recyte examples by any of mine owne doings, since all comparisons are odious." Dr John Donne in an "Elegy" has the line, "she and comparisons are odious," and we find the same idea in Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy," in Heywood's play, "A Woman Killed with Kindness," in "Don Quixote," and many other works.
Shakespeare, in his "Much Ado about Nothing," puts into the mouth of Dogberry the variation "comparisons are odorous." Swift, in his "Answer to Sheridan's Simile," writes:
"We own your verses are melodious,
But then comparisons are odious."