Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists/Fable CCCCXXV
Fab. CCCCXXV.
The Moon Begs a New Gown.
THe Moon was in a heavy Twitter once, that her Cloaths never Fitted her: Wherefore, Pray Mother, says she, let the Taylor take Measure of me for a New-Gown, Alas Child, says the Mother, how is it possible to make any one Garment to Fit a Body that appears every Day in a several Shape?
The MORAL.
'Tis the Humour of many People, to be perpetually Longing for something or other that's not to be had.
REFLEXION.
This shews us the Vanity of Impracticable Propositions, and that there is no Measure to be taken of an Unsteady Mind. There's no Quieting of Unsettled Affections; no satisfying of Unbounded Defires; no possibility in short, of either Fixing or Pleasing them. Let a Man but say What he would have, When, and how Much, or how Little, and the Moons Taylor may take Measure of him; but to be Longing for this thing to Day, and for that thing co Morrow; to change Likings for Loathings, and to stand Withing and Hankering at a Venture, how is it possible for any Man to be at Reft in this Fluctuant Wandering Humour and Opinion? There's no fitting of a Gown to a Body that's of One Size when you take Measure of it, and of another when you come to put it on. ‘Tis the very same Case wjth a Heart that is not True to it self. And upon the whole Matter, Men of this Levity are Condemn'd to the Misery of Living and Dying Uneasy.