Animals have graced my line:
Higher heroes in my story
Might have won me less of glory.
Wolves, in language of the sky,
Talk with dogs throughout my verse;
Beasts with others shrewdly vie,
Fools in furs not second-hand,
Sages, hoofed or feathered, stand:
Fewer truly are the latter,
More the formeray, and fatter.
Flourish also in my scene
Tyrants, villains, mountebanks,
Beasts incapable of thanks,
Beasts of rash and reckless pranks,
Beasts of sly and flattering mien;
Troops of liars, too, I believe.
As to men, of every age,
All are liars, says the sage.
Had he writ but of the low,
One could hardly think it so;
But that human mortals, all,
Lie like serpents, great and small,
Had another certified it,
I, for one, should have denied it.
He who lies in Aesop's way,
Or like Homer, minstrel gray,
Is no liar, sooth to say.
Charms that bind us like a dream,
Offspring of their happy art,
Cloaked in fiction, more than seem
Truth to offer to the heart.
Both have left us works which I
Think unworthy ever to die.
Liar call not him who squares
All his ends and aims with theirs;
But from sacred truth to vary,
Like the false depositary,
Is to be, by every rule
Both a liar and a fool.
The story goes:
A man of trade,
The like occurred two travellers between.
The love that brother has for brother.
But one, of scenes domestic tiring,
To see the foreign world aspiring,
Was fool enough to undertake
A journey long, over land and lake.
"What plan is this?" the other cried;
"Would quit so soon your brother's side?
This absence is the worst of ills;
Your heart may bear, but me it kills.
Pray, let the dangers, toil, and care,
Of which all travellers tell,
Your courage somewhat quell.
Still, if the season later were
O wait the zephyrs!hasten not
Just now the raven, on his oak,
In hoarser tones than usual spoke.
My heart forebodes the saddest lot,
The falcons, netsAlas, it rains!
My brother, are your wants supplied
Provisions, shelter, pocket-guide,
And all that to health pertains?"
These words occasioned some demur
In our imprudent traveller.
But restless curiosity
Prevailed at last; and so said he,
"The matter is not worth a sigh;
Three days, at most, will satisfy,
And then, returning, I shall tell
You all the wonders that befell,
With scenes enchanting and sublime
Shall sweeten all our coming time.
Who sees nothing, has nothing to say.
My travel's course, from day to day,
Will be the source of great delight.
A store of tales I shall relate,
Say there I lodged at such a date,
And saw there such and such a sight.
You'll think it all occurred to you."
On this, both, weeping, bade adieu.
Away the lonely wanderer flew.
A thunder-cloud began to lower;
He sought, as shelter from the shower,
The only tree that graced the plain,
Whose leaves ill turned the pelting rain.
The sky once more serene above,
On flew our drenched and dripping dove,
And dried his plumage as he could.
Next, on the borders of a wood,
He spied some scattered grains of wheat,
Which one, he thought, might safely eat;
For there another dove he saw.
He felt the snare around him draw!
This wheat was but a treacherous bait
To lure poor pigeons to their fate.
The snare had been so long in use,
With beak and wings he struggled loose:
Some feathers perished while it stuck;
But, what was worst in point of luck,
A hawk, the cruellest of foes,
Perceived him clearly as he rose,
Off dragging, like a runaway,
A piece of string. The bird of prey
Had bound him, in a moment more,
Much faster than he was before,
But from the clouds an eagle came,
And made the hawk himself his game.
By war of robbers profiting,
The dove for safety plied the wing,
And, lighting on a ruined wall,
Believed his dangers ended all.
A roguish boy had there a sling,
We must confess,)
And, by a most unlucky fling,
Half killed our hapless dove;
Who now, no more in love
With foreign travelling,
And lame in leg and wing,
Straight homeward urged his crippled flight,
Fatigued, but glad, arrived at night,
In truly sad and piteous plight.
The doves rejoined, I leave you all to say,
What pleasure might their pains repay.
Ah, happy lovers, would you roam?
Pray, let it not be far from home.
To each the other ought to be
A world of beauty ever new;
In each the other ought to see
The whole of what is good and true.
Myself have loved; nor would I then,
 Bidpai. By common consent this fable is ranked among La Fontaine's very
The rivals at a country fair.
Each advertised his own attractions.
Said one, "Good sirs, the highest place
My merit knows; for, of his grace,
The king has seen me face to face;
And, judging by his looks and actions,
I gave the best of satisfactions.
When I am dead, it's plain enough,
My skin will make his royal muff.
So richly is it streaked and spotted,
So delicately waved and dotted,
Its various beauty cannot fail to please."
And, thus invited, everybody sees;
But soon they see, and soon depart.
The monkey's show-bill to the mart
His merits thus sets forth the while,
All in his own peculiar style:
"Come, gentlemen, I pray you, come;
In magic arts I am at home.
The whole variety in which
My neighbour boasts himself so rich,
Is to his simple skin confined,
While mine is living in the mind.
Your humble servant, Monsieur Gille,
The son-in-law to Tickleville,
Pope's monkey, and of great renown,
Is now just freshly come to town,
Arrived in three bateaux, express,
Your worships to address;
For he can speak, you understand;
Can dance, and practise sleight-of-hand;
Can jump through hoops, and balance sticks;
In short, can do a thousand tricks;
And all for blancos six
Not, messieurs, for a sou.
And, if you think the price won't do,
When you have seen, then he'll restore
Each man his money at the door."
The ape was not to reason blind;
Alas! how many lords there are,
 Aesop; also Avianus.
 Blancos six.The blanc was a French copper coin, six of which were
equivalent in value to something over a penny of the present English money.
 Blancos six.The blanc was a French copper coin, six of which were equivalent in value to something over a penny of the present English money.
Around the world I need not move;
I do it by the nearest pumpkin.
"This fruit so large, on vine so small,"
Surveying once, exclaimed a bumpkin
"What could He mean who made us all?
He's left this pumpkin out of place.
If I had ordered in the case,
On that oak it should have hung
A noble fruit as ever swung
To grace a tree so firm and strong.
Indeed, it was a great mistake,
As this discovery teaches,
That I myself did not partake
His counsels whom my curate preaches.
All things had then in order come;
This acorn, for example,
Not bigger than my thumb,
Had not disgraced a tree so ample.
The more I think, the more I wonder
To see outraged proportion's laws,
And that without the slightest cause;
God surely made an awkward blunder."
With such reflections proudly fraught,
Our sage grew tired of mighty thought,
And threw himself on Nature's lap,
Beneath an oak,to take his nap.
Plump on his nose, by lucky hap,
An acorn fell: he waked, and in
The matted beard that graced his chin,
He found the cause of such a bruise
As made him different language use.
"O! O!" he cried; "I bleed! I bleed!
And this is what has done the deed!
But, truly, what had been my fate,
Had this had half a pumpkin's weight!
I see that God had reasons good,
And all his works well understood."
Thus home he went in humbler mood.
 This fable was much admired by Madame de Sevigne.
A double rogue and double fool,
By youth and by the privilege
Which pedants have, by ancient right,
To alter reason, and abridge,
A neighbour robbed, with fingers light,
Of flowers and fruit. This neighbour had,
Of fruits that make the autumn glad,
The very bestand none but he.
Each season brought, from plant and tree,
To him its tribute; for, in spring,
His was the brightest blossoming.
One day, he saw our hopeful lad
Perched on the finest tree he had,
Not only stuffing down the fruit,
But spoiling, like a Vandal brute,
The buds that play advance-courier
Of plenty in the coming year.
The branches, too, he rudely tore,
And carried things to such a pass,
The owner sent his servant over
To tell the master of his class.
The latter came, and came attended
By all the urchins of his school,
And thus one plunderer's mischief mended
By pouring in an orchard-full.
It seems the pedant was intent
On making public punishment,
To teach his boys the force of law,
And strike their roguish hearts with awe.
The use of which he first must show
From Virgil and from Cicero,
And many other ancients noted,
From whom, in their own tongues, he quoted.
So long, indeed, his lecture lasted,
While not a single urchin fasted,
That, before its close, their thievish crimes
Were multiplied a hundred times.
I hate all eloquence and reason
To buy it did a sculptor hasten.
"What shall my chisel, now It's mine
A god, a table, or a basin?"
"A god," said he, "the thing shall be;
So well the cunning artist wrought
Indeed, the man whose skill did make
And even this excess of faith
This trait we see in infancy
Imagination rules the heart:
With violent and flaming zeal,
All men, as far as in them lies,
 Pygmalion.The poet here takes an erroneous view of the story
of Pygmalion. That sculptor fell in love with his statue of the nymph Galatea, to which
Venus gave life at his request. See Ovid, Metam. Book 10.
I had not have picked it up, I wis;
A Brahmin did it: very well;
Each country has its prejudice.
The mouse, indeed, was sadly bruised.
Although, as neighbours, we are used
To be more kind to many others,
The Brahmins treat the mice as brothers.
The notion haunts their heads, that when
The soul goes forth from dying men,
It enters worm, or bird, or beast,
As Providence or Fate is pleased;
And on this mystery rests their law,
Which from Pythagoras they're said to draw.
And hence the Brahmin kindly prayed
To one who knew the wizard's trade,
To give the creature, wounded sore,
The form in which it lodged before.
Forthwith the mouse became a maid,
Of years about fifteen;
A lovelier was never seen.
She would have waked, I believe,
In Priam's son, a fiercer flame
Than did the beauteous Grecian dame.
Surprised at such a novelty,
The Brahmin to the damsel cried,
"Your choice is free;
For every he
Will seek you for his bride."
Said she, "Am I to have a voice?
The strongest, then, shall be my choice."
"O sun!" the Brahmin cried, "this maid is thine,
And you shall be a son-in-law of mine."
"No," said the sun, "this murky cloud, it seems,
In strength exceeds me, since he hides my beams;
And him I counsel you to take."
Again the reverend Brahmin spake
"O cloud, on-flying with your stores of water,
Pray wast you born to wed my daughter?"
"Ah, no, alas! for, you may see,
The wind is far too strong for me.
My claims with Boreas' to compare,
I must confess, I do not dare."
"O wind," then cried the Brahmin, vexed,
And wondering what would hinder next,
"Approach, and, with your sweetest air,
Embracepossessthe fairest fair."
The wind, enraptured, there blew;
A mountain stopped him as he flew,
To him now passed the tennis-ball,
And from him to a creature small.
Said he, "I had wed the maid, but that
I have had a quarrel with the rat.
A fool were I to take the bride
From one so sure to pierce my side."
The rat! It thrilled the damsel's ear;
To name at once seemed sweet and dear.
The rat! It was one of Cupid's blows;
The like full many a maiden knows;
But all of this beneath the rose.
One smacks ever of the place
In all respects, compared and weighed,
No rule can I more wisely teach.
Nor can there be a better one
Than this,distempered heads to shun.
We often see them, high and low.
They tickle even the royal ear,
As, privileged and free from fear,
They hurl about them joke and jeer,
At pompous lord or silly beau.
A fool, in town, did wisdom cry;
An oyster thrown up by the tide.
In hope, both swallowed ocean's fruit;
But before the fact there came dispute.
While one stooped down to take the prey,
The other pushed him quite away.
Said he, "'Twere rather meet
To settle which shall eat.
Why, he who first the oyster saw
Should be its eater, by the law;
The other should but see him do it."
Replied his mate, "If thus you view it,
Thank God the lucky eye is mine."
"But I have an eye not worse than thine,"
The other cried, "and will be cursed,
If, too, I didn't see it first."
"You saw it, did you? Grant it true,
I saw it then, and felt it too."
Amidst this sweet affair,
Arrived a person very big,
Ycleped Sir Nincom Periwig.
They made him judge,to set the matter square.
Sir Nincom, with a solemn face,
Took up the oyster and the case:
In opening both, the first he swallowed,
And, in due time, his judgment followed.
"Attend: the court awards you each a shell
Cost free; depart in peace, and use them well."
Foot up the cost of suits at law,
The leavings reckon and awards,
The cash you'll see Sir Nincom draw,
And leave the partiespurse and cards.
 Sir Nincom Periwig.The name in La Fontaine is Perrin Dandin,
which is also that of the peasant judge in Rabelais (Book 3, ch. 41), and the judge in
Racine's "Plaideurs" (produced in 1668). Moliere's "George Dandin" (produced 1664), may also
have helped La Fontaine to the name. The last-mentioned character is a farmer, but, like the
others, he is a species of incapable; and the word dandin in the old French dictionaries is
given as signifying inaptness or incapacity.
 The oyster and lawyer story is also treated in Fable 21, Book 1. (The Hornet and
 The oyster and lawyer story is also treated in Fable 21, Book 1. (The Hornet and the Bees).
Endeavoured vainly to convince
A hungry fisherman
Of his unfitness for the frying-pan.
That controversy made it plain
That letting go a good secure,
In hope of future gain,
Is but imprudence pure.
The fisherman had reason good
The troutling did the best he could
Both argued for their lives.
Now, if my present purpose thrives,
I'll prop my former proposition
By building on a small addition.
A certain wolf, in point of wit
The prudent fisher's opposite,
A dog once finding far astray,
Prepared to take him as his prey.
The dog his leanness pled;
"Your lordship, sure," he said,
"Cannot be very eager
To eat a dog so meagre.
To wait a little do not grudge:
The wedding of my master's only daughter
Will cause of fatted calves and fowls a slaughter;
And then, as you yourself can judge,
I cannot help becoming fatter."
The wolf, believing, waived the matter,
And so, some days therefrom,
Returned with sole design to see
If fat enough his dog might be.
The rogue was now at home:
He saw the hunter through the fence.
"My friend," said he, "please wait;
I'll be with you a moment from now,
And fetch our porter of the gate."
This porter was a dog immense,
That left to wolves no future tense.
Suspicion gave our wolf a jog,
It might not be so safely tampered.
"My service to your porter dog,"
Was his reply, as off he scampered.
His legs proved better than his head,
And saved him life to learn his trade.
 A troutling.See Book 5, Fable 3. Translator.
 A troutling.See Book 5, Fable 3. Translator.
We look in vain for moderation.
There is a certain golden mean,
Which Nature's sovereign Lord, I believe,
Designed the path of all forever.
Does one pursue it? Never.
Even things which by their nature bless,
Are turned to curses by excess.
The grain, best gift of Ceres fair,
Next, men are sent on wolves to take
Of animals, the human kind
On Mount Hymettus, first, they say,
They made their home, and stored away
The treasures which the zephyrs fan.
When men had robbed these daughters of the sky,
And left their palaces of nectar dry,
Or, as in French the thing's explained
When hives were of their honey drained
The spoilers "gan the wax to handle,
And fashioned from it many a candle.
Of these, one, seeing clay, made brick by fire,
Remain uninjured by the teeth of time,
Was kindled into great desire
For immortality sublime.
And so this new Empedocles
On the blazing pile one sees,
Self-doomed by purest folly
To fate so melancholy.
The candle lacked philosophy:
All things are made diverse to be.
To wander from our destined tracks
There cannot be a vainer wish;
But this Empedocles of wax,
That melted in the chafing-dish,
Was truly not a greater fool
Than he of whom we read at school.
 Mount Hymettus.This was the mountain from where the Greeks got fine
 Empedocles.A Pythagorean philosopher who asserted that he had been,
before becoming a man, a girl, a boy, a shrub, a bird, and a fish. He is further credited
with the vanity of wishing to be thought a god, and hence of throwing himself into Mount
Etna to conceal his death. Unfortunately for the success of this scheme, says one story, he
convicted himself of suicide by inadvertently leaving his slippers at the foot of the
 Mount Hymettus.This was the mountain from where the Greeks got fine honey.
 Empedocles.A Pythagorean philosopher who asserted that he had been, before becoming a man, a girl, a boy, a shrub, a bird, and a fish. He is further credited with the vanity of wishing to be thought a god, and hence of throwing himself into Mount Etna to conceal his death. Unfortunately for the success of this scheme, says one story, he convicted himself of suicide by inadvertently leaving his slippers at the foot of the volcano.
If we the vows remembered which
It drives us to! But, danger past,
Kind Providence is paid the last.
No earthly debt is treated so.
"Now, Jove," the wretch exclaims, "will wait;
He sends no sheriff to one's gate,
Like creditors below;"
But, let me ask the dolt,
What means the thunderbolt?
A passenger, endangered by the sea,
Together went on pilgrimage.
Arch hypocrites and swindlers, they,
By sleight of face and sleight of paw,
Regardless both of right and law,
Contrived expenses to repay,
By eating many a fowl and cheese,
And other tricks as bad as these.
Disputing served them to beguile
The road of many a weary mile.
Disputing! but for this resort,
The world would go to sleep, in short.
Our pilgrims, as a thing of course,
Disputed till their throats were hoarse.
Then, dropping to a lower tone,
They talked of this, and talked of that,
Till Renard whispered to the cat,
"You think yourself a knowing one:
How many cunning tricks have you?
For I have a hundred, old and new,
All ready in my haversack."
The cat replied, "I do not lack,
Though with but one provided;
And, truth to honour, for that matter,
I hold it than a thousand better."
In fresh dispute they sided;
And loudly were they at it, when
Approached a mob of dogs and men.
"Now," said the cat, "your tricks ransack,
And put your cunning brains to rack,
One life to save; I'll show you mine
A trick, you see, for saving nine."
With that, she climbed a lofty pine.
The fox his hundred ruses tried,
And yet no safety found.
A hundred times he falsified
The nose of every hound.
Was here, and there, and everywhere,
Above, and under ground;
But yet to stop he did not dare,
Pent in a hole, it was no joke,
To meet the terriers or the smoke.
So, leaping into upper air,
He met two dogs, that choked him there.
Expedients may be too many,
Still led an almost joyless life.
No tender look, nor gracious word,
Nor smile, that, coming from a bride,
Its object would have deified,
Ever told her doting lord
The love with which he burned
Was in its kind returned.
Still unrepining at his lot,
This man, thus tied in Hymen's knot,
Thanked God for all the good he got.
But why? If love does fail to season
Whatever pleasures Hymen gives,
I'm sure I cannot see the reason
Why one for him the happier lives.
However, since his wife
Had never caressed him in her life,
He made complaint of it one night.
The entrance of a thief
Cut short his tale of grief,
And gave the lady such a fright,
She shrunk from dreaded harms
Within her husband's arms.
"Good thief," cried he,
"This joy so sweet, I owe to you:
Now take, as your reward,
Of all that owns me lord,
Whatever suits you save my spouse;
Ay, if you pleasest, take the house."
As thieves are not remarkably
Overstocked with modesty,
This fellow made quite free.
From this account it does appear,
 'Twas foolish.La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of the Spanish
Count Villa Medina with Elizabeth of France, wife of Philip 4. of Spain. The former, having
invited the Spanish court to a splendid entertainment in his palace, had it set on fire,
that he might personally rescue the said lady from its flames.Translator.
 'Twas foolish.La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of the Spanish Count Villa Medina with Elizabeth of France, wife of Philip 4. of Spain. The former, having invited the Spanish court to a splendid entertainment in his palace, had it set on fire, that he might personally rescue the said lady from its flames.Translator.
Who lodged the devil in his purse,
That is to say, lodged nothing there,
By self-suspension in the air
Concluded his accounts to square,
Since, should he not, he understood,
From various tokens, famine would
A death for which no mortal wight
Had ever any appetite.
A ruin, crowned with ivy green,
Was of his tragedy the scene.
His hangman's noose he duly tied,
And then to drive a nail he tried;
But by his blows the wall gave way,
Now tremulous and old,
Disclosing to the light of day
A sum of hidden gold.
He clutched it up, and left Despair
To struggle with his halter there.
Nor did the much delighted man
Even stop to count it as he ran.
But, while he went, the owner came,
Who loved it with a secret flame,
Too much indeed for kissing,
And found his moneymissing!
"O Heavens!" he cried, "shall I
Such riches lose, and still not die?
Shall I not hang?as I, in fact,
Might justly do if cord I lacked;
But now, without expense, I can;
This cord here only lacks a man."
The saving was no saving clause;
It suffered not his heart to falter,
Till it reached his final pause
As full possessor of the halter,
It's thus the miser often grieves:
Whoever the benefit receives
Of what he owns, he never must
Mere treasurer for thieves,
Or relatives, or dust.
But what say we about the trade
In this affair by Fortune made?
Why, what but that it was just like her!
In freaks like this delights she.
The shorter any turn may be,
The better it is sure to strike her.
It fills that goddess full of glee
A self-suspended man to see;
And that it does especially,
When made so unexpectedly.
 The story of this fable has been traced to the Epigrams of Ausonius who
was born at Bordeaux, and lived in the fourth century.
(The one was a monkey, the other a cat,)
Co-servants and lodgers:
More mischievous codgers
Never messed from a platter, since platters were flat.
Was anything wrong in the house or about it,
The neighbours were blameless,no mortal could doubt it;
For Bertrand was thievish, and Ratto so nice,
More attentive to cheese than he was to the mice.
One day the two plunderers sat by the fire,
Where chestnuts were roasting, with looks of desire.
To steal them would be a right noble affair.
A double inducement our heroes drew there
"Twould benefit them, could they swallow their fill,
And then "twould occasion to somebody ill.
Said Bertrand to Ratto, "My brother, today
Exhibit your powers in a masterly way,
And take me these chestnuts, I pray.
Which were I but otherwise fitted
(As I am ingeniously witted)
For pulling things out of the flame,
Would stand but a pitiful game."
"It's done," replied Ratto, all prompt to obey;
And thrust out his paw in a delicate way.
First giving the ashes a scratch,
He opened the coveted batch;
Then lightly and quickly impinging,
He drew out, in spite of the singeing,
One after another, the chestnuts at last,
While Bertrand contrived to devour them as fast.
A servant girl enters. Adieu to the fun.
Our Ratto was hardly contented, says one.
No more are the princes, by flattery paid
 For Madame de Sevigne's opinion of this fable, see the Translator's
Had set a neighbourhood in fright,
And raised the clamorous noise
Of all the village boys,
When, by misfortune,sad to say,
A nightingale fell in his way.
Spring's herald begged him not to eat
A bird for musicnot for meat.
"O spare!" cried she, "and I'll relate
"The crime of Tereus and his fate."
"What's Tereus? Is it food for kites?"
"No, but a king, of female rights
The villain spoiler, whom I taught
A lesson with repentance fraught;
And, should it please you not to kill,
My song about his fall
Your very heart shall thrill,
As it, indeed, does all."
Replied the kite, a "pretty thing!
When I am faint and famishing,
To let you go, and hear you sing?"
"Ah, but I entertain the king!"
"Well, when he takes you, let him hear
Your tale, full wonderful, no doubt;
For me, a kite, I'll go without."
An empty stomach has no ear.
 Abstemius; also Aesop.
 What's Tereus?See story of Tereus Philomela and Progne, in Ovid's
Metamorphoses.See also Fable XV., Book 3, and Note.
 An empty stomach has no ear.Cato the Censor said in one of his speeches
to the Romans, who were clamouring for a distribution of corn, "It is a difficult task, my
fellow-citizens, to speak to the belly, because it has no ears."Plutarch's Life of
Cato (Langhorne's ed.). "The belly has no ears, nor is it to be filled with fair
words."Rabelais, Book 4, ch. 63.
 What's Tereus?See story of Tereus Philomela and Progne, in Ovid's Metamorphoses.See also Fable XV., Book 3, and Note.
 An empty stomach has no ear.Cato the Censor said in one of his speeches to the Romans, who were clamouring for a distribution of corn, "It is a difficult task, my fellow-citizens, to speak to the belly, because it has no ears."Plutarch's Life of Cato (Langhorne's ed.). "The belly has no ears, nor is it to be filled with fair words."Rabelais, Book 4, ch. 63.
This stupid coward throng?
And never shall the wolf have done?
They were at least a thousand strong,
But still they've let poor Robin fall a prey!
Ah, woe's the day!
Poor Robin Wether lying dead!
He followed for a bit of bread
His master through the crowded city,
And would have followed, had he led,
Around the world. O! what a pity!
My pipe, and even step, he knew;
To meet me when I came, he flew;
In hedge-row shade we napped together;
Alas, alas, my Robin Wether!"
When Willy thus had duly said
His eulogy on the dead
And to everlasting fame
Consigned poor Robin Wether's name,
He then harangued the flock at large,
From proud old chieftain rams
Down to the smallest lambs,
Addressing them this weighty charge,
Against the wolf, as one, to stand
In firm, united, fearless band,
By which they might expel him from their land.
On their faith, they would not flinch,
They promised him, a single inch.
"We'll choke," said they, "the murderous glutton
Who robbed of us of our Robin Mutton."
Their lives they pledged against the beast,
And Willy gave them all a feast.
But evil Fate, than Phoebus faster,
Before night had brought a new disaster:
A wolf there came. By nature's law,
The total flock were prompt to run;
And yet It was not the wolf they saw,
But shadow of him from the setting sun.
Harangue a craven soldiery,
 Robin.Rabelais, in his Pantagruel, Book 4, ch. 4, has Robin,
Robin Mouton, etc.
 Robin.Rabelais, in his Pantagruel, Book 4, ch. 4, has Robin, Robin Mouton, etc.