Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists/Fable CXIV
Fab. CXIV.
A Doctor and Patient with Sore Eyes.
A Physician Undertakes a Woman with Sore Eyes, upon the Terms of No Cure No Mony. His Way was to Dawb 'em quite up with Oyntments, and while she was in That Pickle, to carry of a Spoon or a Porringer, or somewhat or Other at the End of his Visit. The Womans Eyes Mended, and still as she came More and More to her self again, there was Every Day less and less left in the House to be seen. The Doctor came to her at last, and told her; Mistress, says he, I have Discharg'd my Part, Your Eyes are Perfectly Well again, and pray let me be Payd now according to Our Agreement, Alas, Sir says she, I'm a Great deal Worse then I was the First Minute you Undertook me; for I could see Plate, Hangings, Paintings, and Other Goods of Value about my House, ‘till You had the Ordering of me; but I am now brought to such a Pass, that can see nothing at all.
The Moral.
REFLEXION.
This Fancy is Half Knavery, Half Humour, and the Doctors Part in’t is no more then according to the Common Practice of the World, in Law, as well as in Physick, when People make the Remedy Worse then the Disease; as when a Man spends the Fee Simple of an Estate in a Contest for the Title. The Barber that Pick’d a Gentlemans Pocket while he was Washing of his Face, Wrote after This Copy. The Moral holds forth This Matter of Advice to us, not to Contract any Obligations Rashly; for Good Offices in course are rather Baits, and Snares, then Benefits; and there are some Certain People, that a Sober Man would not Venture the being Beholden to. The Poor Woman here, had her Jest for her Houshold-Stuff; and the Vain Satisfaction of Paying her Physician with a Conceit for his Mony. It Minds me of the Orator that was to Teach a Young Man Rhetorick, on Condition of Double Pay upon the Perfecting of him in his Profession, and not a Penny before; The Master follow’d his Scholar Close, and came to him at last for his Mony, according to the Bargain: The Young Fellow begg'd him over and over to Forbear it a while, but could not Prevail. He told him Then, that there was nothing Due to him; for if Rhetorick be (as you say) the Art or Power of Persuasion; and if I cannot prevail with you to forbear Your Mony, I am not Master of my Trade yet. This was the Woman's Way of Reasoning with the Physician. The Dr. would have his Mony for the Curing of her Eyes, and the Woman shuffl'd it off that she was not Cur'd, for she could see Nothing at all, which was Once Fallacy upon Another.