A _Cock_ and a _Fox_.
A _Fox_ spyd a _Cock_ at Roost with his _Hens_ about him. Why how now
my Friend, says _Reynard_, What makes you upon a Tree there? Your
Business lyes upon the _Terra Firma_, and a _Cock_ in the _Air_ is out
of his _Element_, Methinks. But you don’t hear the News perhaps, and it
is certainly true: there’s a general Peace concluded among all Living
Creatures, and not one of them to presume upon pain of Life and Limb,
Directly or Indirectly, to Hurt another. The Blessedest Tidings in
the World, says the _Cock_; and at the same time he stretches out his
Neck, as if he were a looking at somewhat a Great way off. What are you
Peering at? says the _Fox_. Nothing says t’other, but a Couple of Great
Dogs yonder that are coming this Way, Open-Mouth, as hard as they can
drive. Why then says _Reynard_, I fancy I’d e’en best be Jogging. No,
No, says the _Cock_, the General Peace will Secure you: Ay, quoth the
_Fox_, so it will; but if these Roguy Currs should not have heard of the
_Proclamation_, my Coat may come to be Pink’d yet for all that. And so
away he Scamper’d.
The MORAL.
_In all the Liberties of Sharping and Tricking One upon Another, there
must still a Regard be had to the Punctilios of Honour and Justice._