The _Fox_ Condemn’d.
There was a _Fox_ (as the Story has it) of a Lewd Life and Conversation,
that happen’d at last to be catch’d in his Roguery, and call’d to an
Account for the Innocent Blood he had spilt of Lambs, Pullets, and Geese
without Number, and without any Sense either of Shame or of Conscience.
While he was in the hands of Justice, and on his way to the Gibbet,
a Freak took him in the Head to go off with a Conceit. You Gentlemen
the King’s Officers, says he, I have no Mind in the World to go to the
Gallows by the Common Road; but if you’ll carry me through the little
Wood there on the Right Hand, I should take it very kindly. The People
fancy’d a Trick in’t at first, and that there might be some Thought of a
Rescue, or an Escape in the Case; till _Reynard_ assur’d them upon his
Honour, that he had no such Design: Only he was a great Lover of Musick,
and he had rather have one Chirping Madrigal in the Woods, then Forty
_from Turks and Popes_ upon the Ladder.
The MORAL.
_Many People are harden’d in an Habitual Defiance of Heaven and Hell,
that they’ll sport with them at the very Gallows; and value themselves
upon Living and Dying all of a piece._