_Esop._ Why, what's the matter with your old one? _2 Tra._ What's the matter! Why, he grows rich; that's the matter; And he that's rich can't be innocent; that's all. _Esop._ Does he use any of you harshly? Or punish you without a Fault? _2 Tra._ No, but he grows as rich as a Miser; his Purse is so cramm'd, 'tis ready to burst again. _Esop._ When 'tis full, 'twill hold no more; a new Governor will have an empty one. _2 Tra._ 'Fore Gad, Neighbour, the little Gentleman's in the right on't. _1 Tra._ Why, truly, I don't know but he may: For now it comes in my Head, It cost me more Money to fat my Hog, Than to keep him fat when he was so. Pr'ythee tell him we'll keep our old Governor. _2 Tra._ I'll do't. Why, look you, Sir, d'ye see me: Having seriously consider'd of the matter, my Neighbour _Hobson_ and I here, we are content to jog on a little longer with him we have: but if you'd do us another Courtesy, you might. _Esop._ What's that, Friend? _2 Tra._ Why, that's this: Our King Crœsus is a very good Prince, as a Man may say: But----a----but--Taxes are high, an't please you; and----a----poor Men want Money, d'ye see me: 'Tis very hard, as we think, that the Poor shou'd work to maintain the Rich. If there were no Taxes, we shou'd do pretty well. _1 Tra._ Taxes, indeed, are very burdensome. _Esop._ I'll tell you a Story, Countrymen. _Once on a time, the Hands and Feet, As Mutineers, grew mighty great; They met, caball'd, and talk'd of Treason, They swore by ~Jove~ they knew no Reason The Belly shou'd have all the Meat-- } It was a damn'd notorious Cheat } They did the Work, and--Death and Hell, they'd eat. } The Belly, who ador'd good Chear, Had like t'have dy'd away for Fear: Quoth he, Good Folks, you little know } What 'tis you are about to do; } If I am starv'd, what will become of you? } We neither know nor care, cry'd they, But this we will be bound to say, We'll see you damn'd Before we'll work, And you receive the Pay. With that the Hands to Pocket went Full Wrist-band deep, The Legs and Feet fell fast asleep: Their Liberty they had redeem'd, And all, except the Belly, seem'd Extremely well content. But mark what follow'd; 'twas not long Before the right became the wrong; The Mutineers were grown so weak, They found 'twas more than time to squeak: They call for work, but 'twas too late. The Stomach (like an aged Maid, } Shrunk up, for want of human Aid) } The common Debt of Nature paid, } And with its Destiny entrain'd their Fate._ }