A _Country-man_ and an _Ass_.
As a _Country-man_ was Grazing his _Ass_ in a Meadow, comes a Hot Alarum
that the Enemy was Just falling into their Quarters. The _Poor Man_ calls
presently to his _Ass_, in a Terrible Fright, to Scoure away as fast as
he could Scamper: for, says he, we shall be _Taken_ else. Well, quoth the
_Ass_, and what if we should be _Taken_? I have One Pack-Saddle upon my
Back already, will they Clap Another a Top of that d’ye Think? I can but
be a Slave where-ever I am: So that _Taken_, or not _Taken_, ’tis all a
Case to Me.
The MORAL.
_It’s some Comfort for a Body to be so Low that he cannot fall: And in
such a Condition already that he cannot well be Worse. If a Man be Born
to be a Slave, no matter to what Master._