Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists/Fable LIV

by Roger L'Estrange

Fab. LIV.

A Fox and a Sick Lyon.

A Certain Lyon that had got a Politique Fit of Sickness, made it his Observation, that of All the Beasts in the Forrest, the Fox never came at him: And so he wrote him Word how Ill he Was, and how Mighty Glad he should be of his Company, upon the Score of Ancient Friendship and Acquaintance. The Fox return’d the Complement with a Thousand Prayers for his Recovery; but as for Waiting upon him, he desir'd to be Excusd; For (says he) I find the Traces of abundance of Feet Going In to Your Majesties Palace, and not One that comes Back again.

The Moral.

The Kindnesses of Ill Natur'd and Designing People, should be thoroughly Consider'd, and Examin'd, before we give Credit to them.

REFLEXION.

There’s but a Hair’s Breadth here, betwixt an Office of Great Piety, Humanity and Virtu; and an Action of Extreme Folly, Improvidence, and Hazzard. But the Fox saw thorough the Complement, and that it was, in Truth, but an Invitation of him to his Own Funcral. We meet with many of These Dangerous Civilities in the World, wherein 'tis a Hard Matter for a Man to Save, both his Skin, and his Credit.

'Tis a Difficult Point to Hit the True Medium, betwixt Trusting too Much, and too Little, for fear of Incurring a Danger on the One Hand, or giving a Scandal on the Other. Complements are only Words of Course, and though One External Civility may be Current Payment for Another, yet a Man would be loth to Venture his All upon a Figure of Speech, where the Meaning is so Nicely Divided betwixt Jest and Earnest. 'Tis a Base Thing to suspect a Fricnd, or an Honest Man; Nay 'tis a Base Thing to suspect any Man, that but Looks like One; so as to Wound him; That is, either in a Word, or in a Thought. But then 'tis Death perhaps to be Impos’d upon by an Hypocrite under That Masquce. So that the Character of a Wife Man, lyes at Stake upon Matter of Judgment, One Way, and of a Good Natur'd Man, the Other Way. The Middle Course is to Hide our Distrust where we are Doubtful, and to be Free, and Open, where we may be Secure. There's No Living without Trusting some body or Other, in some Cases, or at some Time or Other: But then if People be not Cautious, Whom, When, and Wherein, the Mistake may be Mortal; for there must be somewhat of a Trust to make way for a Treachery; since No man can be Betray’d, that does not either Believe, or seem to Believe: So that the Fox did well to Weigh All Circumftances before he came to a Resolution, The Lion's Design was well enough Cover'd under the Disguife of a Counterfeit Sickness, and a Dislembled Tenderness and Respect, for the Drawing of the Fox into the Toyle. For there was the Civility of an Invitation, on the One hand, and some Colour of a Right co a Visit, though but out of Compassion and Good Manners, on the Other: But the Foxes Sagacity, and the Prints of the Feet Spoil’d All. This Fable in One Word more, bids us be Careful how we Trust in Any Case without looking Well about us: for 'tis Half the Bus'ness of One part of the World to put Tricks upon T'other. The Heart of Man is like a Bog, it looks Fair to the Eye; but when we come to lay any Weight upon’t, the Ground is False under us. Nothing could be more Obliging and Respectful then the Lyon’s Letter was, in Terms and Appearance; but there was Death yet in the True Intent and Meaning on’t.