FABLE [40] XL. The two Monkeys. John Gay Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T13818 Gay, John, 1685-1732. FABLES. By Mr. GAY. London Printed for J. Tonson and J. Watts, MDCCXXVII. 1727 pp. 134-137. [14],173,[1]p.: ill.; 4°.

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FABLE [ 40 ] XL. The two Monkeys . The learned , full of inward pride , The fops of outward show deride ; The fop , with learning at defiance , Scoffs at the pedant and the science : The Don , a formal , solemn strutter , Despises Monsieur's airs and flutter ; While Monsieur mocks the formal fool , Who looks , and speaks , and walks by rule . Britain , a medly of the twain , As pert as France , as grave as Spain , In fancy wiser than the rest , Laughs at them both , of both the jest . Is not the poet's chiming close Censur'd , by all the sons of prose ? While bards of quick imagination Despise the sleepy prose narration . Men laugh at apes , they men contemn ; For what are we , but apes to them ? Two Monkeys went to Southwark fair , No criticks had a sourer air . They forc'd their way through draggled folks , Who gap'd to catch Jack-Pudding's jokes . Then took their tickets for the show , And got by chance the foremost row . To see their grave observing face Provok'd a laugh thro' all the place . Brother , says Pug , and turn'd his head , The rabble's monstrously ill-bred . Now through the booth loud hisses ran ; Nor ended 'till the Show began . The tumbler whirles the flip-flap round , With sommersets he shakes the ground ; The cord beneath the dancer springs ; Aloft in air the vaulter swings , Distorted now , now prone depends , Now through his twisted arms ascends ; The croud , in wonder and delight , With clapping hands applaud the sight . With smiles , quoth Pug ; If pranks like these The giant apes of reason please , How would they wonder at our arts ! They must adore us for our parts . High on the twig I've seen you cling , Play , twist and turn in airy ring ; How can those clumsy things , like me , Fly with a bound from tree to tree ? But yet , by this applause , we find These emulators of our kind Discern our worth , our parts regard , Who our mean mimicks thus reward . Brother , the grinning mate replies , In this I grant that man is wise , While good example they pursue , We must allow some praise is due ; But when they strain beyond their guide , I laugh to scorn the mimic pride . For how fantastick is the sight , To meet men always bolt upright , Because we sometimes walk on two ! I hate the imitating crew .