Esop. Why do you think so?
Gent. Why do I think so!—--These Courtiers will ask the strangest Questions!—--Why, Sir, do you think that Men bred up to the State or the Army, can understand the Business of Ploughing and Hunting?
Esop. I did not know but they might.
Gent. How cou'd you think so?
Esop. Because I see Men bred up to Ploughing and Hunting, understand the Business of the State and the Army.
Gent. I'm shot——I ha'n't one Word to say for myself——I never was so caught in my Life.
Esop. I perceive, Sir, by your Looks, what I have said has made some Impression upon you; and would, perhaps do more, if you wou'd give it leave. [Taking his Hand.] Come, Sir, tho' I am a Stranger to you, I can be your Friend; my Favour at Court does not hinder me from being a Lover of my Country. 'Tis my Nature, as well as Principle, to be pleas'd with the Prosperity of Mankind. I wish all Things happy, and my Study is to make them so.
The Distempers of the Government (which I own are great) have employ'd the Stretch of my Understanding, and the deepest of my Thoughts, to penetrate the Cause, and to find out the Remedy. But alas! All the Product of my Study is this, That I find there is too near a Resemblance between the Diseases of the State and those of the Body, for the most expert Minister to become a greater Master in one than the College is in t'other: And how far their Skill extends, you may see by this Lump upon my Back. Allowances in all Professions there must be, since 'tis weak Man that is the weak Professor. Believe me, Senator, for I have seen the Proof on't. The longest Beard amongst us is a Fool. Cou'd you but stand behind the Curtain, and there observe the secret Springs of State, you'd see, in all the Good or Evil that attends it, ten Ounces of Chance for one Grain either of Wisdom or Roguery.
You'd see, perhaps, a venerable Statesman sit fast asleep in a great downy Chair; whilst, in that soft Vacation of his Thought, blind Chance (or what at least we blindly call so) shall so dispose a thousand secret Wheels, that when he awakes, he needs but write his Name, to publish to the World some blest Event, for which his Statue shall be rais'd in Brass.
Perhaps a Moment thence, you shall behold him torturing his Brain; his Thoughts all stretcht upon the Rack for publick Service. The live-long Night, when all the World's at rest, consum'd in Care, and watching for their Safety, then by a Whirlwind in his Fate, in spight of him, some Mischief shall befall 'em, for which a furious Sentence strait shall pass, and they shall vote him to the Scaffold. Even thus uncertain are Rewards and Punishments; and even thus little do the People know, when 'tis the Statesman merits one or t'other.