Lear. Good Morning to my noble Lord; your Excellency——
Esop. Softly, good Governor: I'm a poor Wanderer from Place to Place; too weak to train the Weight of Grandeur with me! The Name of Excellency's not for me.
Lear. My noble Lord, 'tis due to your Imploy; your Predecessors all——
Esop. My Predecessors all deserv'd it, Sir; they were great Men in Wisdom, Birth and Service; whilst I, a poor, unknown, decrepid Wretch, mounted aloft for Fortune's Pastime, expect each Moment to conclude the Farce, by sinking to the Mud from whence I sprung.
Lear. Great Crœsus's Gratitude will still support you; his Coffers all are open to your Will, your future Fortune's wholly in your Power.
Esop. But 'tis a Power that I shall ne'er employ.
Lear. Why so, my Lord?
Esop. I'll tell you, Sir.
A hungry Goat, who had not eat
Some Nights and Days——(for want of Meat)
Was kindly brought at last,
By Providence's Care,
To better Cheer,
After a more than penitential Fast.
He found a Barn well stor'd with Grain:
To enter in requir'd some Pain;
But a delicious Bait
Makes the Way easy, tho' the Pass is strait.
Our Guest observing various Meats,
He put on a good modish Face,
He takes his Place,
He ne'er says Grace,
But where he likes, he there falls to and eats.
At length, with jaded Teeth and Jaws,
He made a Pause;
And finding still some room,
Fell to as he had done before,
For time to come laid in his Store;
And when his Guts cou'd hold no more,
He thought of going home.
But here he met the Glutton's Curse;
He found his Belly grown so great,
'Twas vain to think of a Retreat,
Till he had render'd all he had eat,
And well he far'd no worse.
To the Application, Governor.