not for me to be againſt it: and ſo he ſtretch'd forth his Feet to the Waſhing.
So ſoon as ever the Company had taken off the Edge of their Stomachs; Xanthus calls for a Bumper, and puts it into the hands of the Clown, making No doubt but he would have Allowed his Hoſt the Honor of being his Taſter. The Fellow, without any Scruple, Whips up the Drink, and gives Xanthus the Pott again Empty, who was now the Second Time Diſappointed upon the Matter of Curioſity, or No Curioſity At All. He had a Mind ſtill to be upon Poor Æſop's bones, and made another Tryal of the Humour of his Gueſt. There was a particular Diſh that the Clown fed very Heartily upon: Xanthus fell into a Rage againſt the Cook for the Ill-Dreſſing of it, and Threat'ned to have him brought and Laſh'd in the very Parlour. The Bumpkin took no Notice of it at All, but without Speaking one Word on the Cooks Behalf; It was Nothing to him he thought, what other People did with their Servants.
They were come Now to their Cakes and Pyes, and the Clown Guttled Upon them without mercy. Xanthus Reſolves then upon Another Tryal; Calls for his Paſtry-Cook and tells him, Sirrah, ſays he, you ſpoile every thing that goes through your hands. There's neither Spice, nor any other Seasoning here. The Cook told him, That if they were either Over or Under-Bak'd, it was his Fault; But for the Spice and Seaſoning, it was his Miſtreſſes, for it was All put in that ſhe Deliver'd. Nay Wife, ſays Xanthus, if it ſticks there, By All. that's Sacred, I'le Treat you no better then if you were a Slave bought with my Mony. Wherefore Strip Immediately and Prepare for a Dog-Whip. Xanthus thought with himſelf; that If any thing in the World could move this Barbarous Brute, he would have put in a Word at Leaſt to ſave a Woman of Honour from ſo Scandalous an Indignity, But ſays this Loggerhead to himſelf; There's an old ſaying; What have Wee to do to Quench other Peoples Fires? And I le e'en keep my ſelfe Clear of Other Peoples Matters; Only he took Xanthus by the Hand indeed, and told him if he would but Stay a Little, he'd go fetch his own Wife too, and ſo they might take the Laſh by Turns. In one word, Xanthus milled his Aim at laſt; and though he was troubled at the Miſcarriage, he could not but Laugh yet at the Simplicity of the Man, and Confeſs, that Æſop was in the Right, in bringing a Perſon to him that had no Curioſity at all.
