An _Ant_ and a _Fly_.
There happen’d a Warm Dispute betwixt an _Ant_ and a _Fly_. Why, Where’s
the Honour, or the Pleasure in the World, says the _Fly_, that I have
not My Part in? Are not All Temples and Palaces open to me? Am not I the
Taster to Gods and Princes, in All their Sacrifices and Entertainments?
Am I not serv’d in Gold and Silver? And is not my Meat and Drink still
of the Best? And all This, without either Mony or Pains? I trample upon
Crowns, and Kiss what Ladies Lips I please. And what have you now to
pretend to all this While? Why, says the _Ant_, You Value Your self upon
the Access you have to the Altars of the Gods, the Cabinets of Princes,
and to All Publick Feasts and Collations: And what’s all This but the
Access of an Intruder, not of a Guest? For People are so far from Liking
Your Company, that they Kill ye as fast as they can Catch ye. You are a
Plague to ’em Wherever You come. Your very Breath has Maggots in’t, and
for the Kiss you Brag of, what is it but the Perfume of the last Dunghil
you Touch’d upon, once Remov’d; For My Part, I live upon what’s my Own,
and Work Honestly in the Summer to Maintain my self in the Winter;
Whereas the whole Course of Your Scandalous Life is only Cheating or
Sharping, one Half of the Year, and Starving the Other.
The MORAL.
_Here’s An Emblem of Industry, and Luxury, set forth at large; with the
Sober Advantages, and the Scandalous Excesses of the One and of the
Other._