_Trees Streight_ and _Crooked_.
There was a Delicate Plantation of _Trees_ that were All _Well-grown_,
_Fair_ and _Smooth_, save only One Dwarf among them that was _Knotty_,
and _Crooked_, and the Rest had it in Derision. The Master of the Wood,
it seems, was to Build a House, and Appointed his Workmen to supply the
Timber out of That Grove, and to Cut down Every Stick on’t that they
found fit for Service. They did as they were Order’d, and This _Ill
Favour’d Piece_ was left Alone.
The MORAL.
_Celebrated Beauties are seldom Fortunate._