From th' Exhalations of the Earth.
Thus spoke the Lyon to the Gnat;
Who answer'd, Bully, Think ye that
I'll bear Affronts? No: And declar'd
A War against him to his Beard;
And told the Hector, void of fear,
You'll find Sir King, how much I care
For all your Titles, Tooth and Claw,
Of which great Loobies stand in awe:
I'll quickly curb your haughtiness,
Damn'd Brute; and hardly utter'd this,
But sounds the Charge (he serv'd for all
For Trumpet and for General.)
He nimbly shifts from Place to Place,
And plays before the Lyon's Face;
The other snaps and strikes the Air;
The Gnat avoids him every where;
He watch'd his time, then seiz'd his Neck,
From thence he mov'd, and stung his Back,
There fasten'd, made his Kingship mad,
His Eyes sparkle in his Head;
He foams and roars, and all what's near
Trembles, and hides itself for fear,
Yet, of this general Hurrican,
And dire Alarm th' Occasion
Is, what one would suspect the least,
So small an Atom of a Beast.
With hundred rambling flights he teases
The Brute, and leads him where he pleases;
Gets up his Nostrils, laughs to see
With how much Rage his Enemy
Tore his own Flesh, and all in Blood
Ran raving through the affrighted Wood.
He still pursues, till out of Breath
The Lyon dropp'd, and bled to Death.
The merry buzzing Conqueror
Flies from the dismal Seat of War,
And as he sounded chearfully
The Charge, so sounds the Victory.
But going to proclaim his Story,
Puffed up and blinded with his Glory,
He met a Cobweb in his way,
And fell a silly Spider's Prey.
The Moral.
_So one that cross'd the Ocean o'er,
May smother in a Common Shore._
_The Woodcleaver and Mercury._
In Ancient times, when _Jupiter_
Was pretty free, a Labourer,
That earn'd his Bread with cleaving Wood,
Lost with his Ax his Livelyhood.
'T would grieve ones Heart to hear what sad
And pitious moan the Fellow made:
He had no Tools to sell again,
And buy another Ax, poor Man!
It was his All, and what to do,
Or how to live he does not know,
And as the Tears stood in his Eyes,
My Ax! O my dear Ax! he cries:
Sweet loving _Jupiter_! restore
My Ax. _Olympus_ hear his roar;
And _Mercury_ the Post-Boy, or
The Flying Post (his Character
Suits either for he's God of Lying
Beardless, and fam'd for News and Flying.)
Came to the Labourer, and said,
Your Ax in't lost, cheer up, my Lad:
I've got it here; but can you tell
Which is your own? I very well,
Quoth he. Says _Mercury_ take hold,
And gives him one of Massy Gold;
To this, quoth th' other, I've no claim;
To a Silver one he said the same.
But when his Iron one was shewn,
He cries, I Faix this is mine own;
God bless you, Sir. And _Mercury_ }
Said, to reward his Honesty, }
Th' are all your own, I give 'em ye. }
The Story's quickly nois'd about;
The way to Riches is found out:
'Tis but to lose one's Ax; the Fools,
That had none, sold their Cloaths and Tools
To get one; and whate'er they cost,
They're bought in order to be lost.
The God of Thieves and Merchants, who
By chance had nothing else to do,
Came as they call'd; his Deity
Gave every one the choice of three:
The lying Rogues deny'd their own,
And swore they lost a Golden one:
But as they stoop for't, _Mercury_
Chops off their Heads, and there they lie.
The Moral.
_The Fable shews you, Honesty
Is always the best Policy._
_The Hare and his Ears._
Some stupid horn'd Beast or other,
Trotting along to get some fother,
Had run the Lyon in his Side;
Who, for the future to provide
Against such Accidents as this,
Sends Writs, by which he banishes
From his Dominions every one,
That wore a Horn: And when 'twas known,
The Stags sneak off with Bulls and Rams,
The very Calves went with their Dams:
And, whilst they are moving every where
To foreign parts, a fearful Hare,
That saw the shadow of his Ears,
Was startled at the sight; and fears,
Some Villain might maliciously
Say they were Horns; What Remedy?
Says he, they're long, and I can't tell.
Well Neighbour Cricket Fare-you-well:
My Ears are Horns too; I'll march off;
They're very long, and that's enough:
Nay, were th' as short as Ostrich Ears,
It would not rid me of my fears;
For if they catch m' I go to Pot.
Foh! says the Cricket, y'are a sot.
Hares Horns! what Puppy calls 'em so?
Th' are Ears. But yet, for ought you know,
Replies poor Puss, they'll pass for Horns;
And may be Horns of Unicorns.
They call the Rabbet's Fore legs, Wings,
I hold no Argument with Kings.
The Moral.
_At Lyons Courts, in case of Treason,
I rather trust my Heels, than Reason._
_The Rat and the Frog._
A Graceless Rat, in special case,
Kept neither Lent nor Holidays;
But lov'd his Gut beyond his Soul,
And look'd as slick as any Mole:
Who one day having time to spare,
Went to the Marshes for some Air;
There meets a Frog, not over fat,
Who says, your Servant Mr. Rat;
And seemingly with much good Nature,
Invites the Stranger o'er the Water:
Says he, I live in yonder Fens,
Go with me I'll treat you like a Prince.
The Rat who had a mind before
To ramble, need t've heard no more;
But yet the Frog made a whole Lecture
On Country Bagnios, and their Structure,
The Voyage, and the Recreation
He'd find in his amphibious Nation;
Their Manners, and a hundred things,
Of which in Winter Evenings,
He'd tell fine Stories ten Years after,
By Fire sides in Praise of Water:
And, since he always liv'd a Shore,
There's nothing could refresh him more.
These Reasons pleas'd his Ratship so,
That he was raving mad to go.
But as your pamper'd Folks are fearful,
He said, one cannot be too careful;
'Tis true I swim, but not like you,
And Cramps, or other things, you know,
Might happen: If I could but have
Some small Assistance.----Says the Knave,
Prithee be quiet, to prevent
All harm, I've an expedient,
That has a thousand times been tried.
Then took a bit of Rush and tied
One of the Fore feet of the Rat
To his Hind leg, and out they set.
But O thou wicked World! how evil
Are all our Hearts! this croaking Devil
Swum to the deep; where, when he got him,
He strove to pull him to the bottom;
And thought it was a lucky hit,
To meet with such a dainty bit;
Good wholesome Meat, and so went on.
The Rat, who felt he was undone,
Cry'd out, and foul'd himself for fear, }
And, tho' sometimes in half a Year, }
The Varlet never said a Prayer; }
Yet (as the Proverb tells us, he
That cannot pray, must go to Sea.)
So now, with all the Sugar Words,
A frighted Coward's Heart affords;
He call'd the Gods, and coax'd the Frog;
But, No: That false hard-hearted Dog
Is deaf to all his Protestations,
And violates the Law of Nations.
One lugs and labours like a Horse,
Th' other resists with all his Force.
The Frog's for going down; the Rat,
If 't pleased the Gods, would rather not.
And, whilst they're struggling different ways,
A Kite, that hover'd o'er the Place,
Saw what our Gentry was about,
Would fain have seen the Battle out;
If 't had been safe; but being loth
To lose his Stomack, took 'em both:
And, doubly blessed beyond his wish,
Supp'd like a Lord, on Flesh and Fish.
The Moral.
_He, that's entangled in a Plot,
For want of Strength, is often caught:
And in his Practices detected
By Accidents, he ne'er suspected.
What cares a Frog for Kites, in Water?
But Villany rewards its Author._
_The Cat and an old Rat._
I've heard, and if it be a Lie,
You have it e'en as cheap as I;
That a huge Cat of mighty Name,
A second _Rodilard_ for Fame,
The _Alexander_ of the Cats;
An _Attila_, a scourge to Rats,
Had brought such horrid devastation,
And Mischief on the latter Nation;
'Twas thought he would depopulate
The World, and swallow every Rat.
The long Tailed Gentry, far and near,
Are all possess'd with so much fear,
That there's not one in six Miles round,
That dares to venture above ground;
Their bloody minded Enemy
Is sorry, that they're grown so shy.
In vain he watch'd, and lurk'd about,
The De'l a bit as one came out.
Says he, the Scoundrels are alive,
I hear 'em stir, and must contrive
To draw 'em out; for, where they dwell,
I'm sure, they're uncomatable.
At that he gets upon a Shelf,
And to a String he hangs himself
By one Foot, dangling with his Head
Downward, as if he had been dead.
The Rats all thought, he had been taken
At stealing Cheese, or gnawing Bacon;
Perhaps he might have foul'd the Bed,
Murder'd a Bird; or, that he had
Committed any other Evil,
By instigation of the Devil,
Or his own more malicious Nature;
For which they'd hang'd the wicked Creature.
The Prisoners, who wanted Bread
Thank'd Heaven, and were very glad.
They show their Snouts, and now begin
To peep out and pop back again;
Till growing bold they leave their home,
And scamper up and down the Room.
Down comes the treacherous Malefactor,
Who rais'd to Life without a Doctor.
Fell with such rage about their House
Each Blow kill'd either Rat or Mouse;
Some made Resistance, but in vain,
The Ground is cover'd with the slain,
Such Execution did his Claw,
But when the cunning Warrior saw,
The nimble ones go off in Sholes,
And get within their crooked Holes,
He call'd to 'em, for all your haste,
I know, you'll come to me at last.
This trick you never knew before,
But I can shew you hundred more.
He'd kill'd enough to live upon
Some few Days; but when that was gone,
He kept his Word, and wheedled 'em
With quite another Stratagem.
He jump'd into a Tub of Flower,
And there stood powd'ring half an hour,
'Till thinking he was dawbd enough,
He walks into an open trough
Where lying snug as white as Snow,
And roul'd up like a piece of Dough,
He waits the Starvlings coming to'm,
And now and then he pick'd up some.
But an old Rat, who full of Scars,
Had lost his Tail in former Wars;
Standing at th' Entrance of the Cave,
Call'd to our Cat. You, Mr. Knave,
Your Hanging or your Flower won't do,
I know your Tricks as well as you.
You was a Cat, and are so still:
Change to what form or shape you will:
Nay be a Log, I wont come nigh't.
Says th' other, Faith he's in the right.
And wisely knows, distrust to be
The Mother of Security.
_The Weasel and the Rat._
A Hungry Weasel poor and lank,
With wrinkled Jaws, and Taper Flank,
Hardly recover'd from her Weakness,
Occasion'd by a Fit of Sickness.
Met with a Granary, and stole
Into it thro' a little Hole.
She bless'd herself to see the store,
No Miser sure could covet more:
And, thinking Nobody could harm her,
Fell to, and fed like any Farmer.
At Nights she slept, and snor'd at Ease,
And having Peace and Quietness,
Four Meals a Day, a wholesome Air,
A dainty Diet, little Care,
She quickly chang'd her meagre Feature,
And look'd like quite another Creature.
The Truth is, it would be a hard Case,
If all this should not mend one's Carcass.
Once, sitting at a Dish of Wheat,
She heard a Noise, forsook her Meat,
Ran to the Hole to save her Bacon,
Squeez'd to get thro'; but was mistaken.
And as she searches all about,
And finds no Crevish to get out,
She spies a Rat, and tells him, pray
What must I do, I've lost my way,
Which is the Hole? No, says the Rat,
Your way is right; but y'are too Fat.
Stay but a Week, and fast, good Dame, }
Till y'are as lean, as when you came, }
And then you'll find the Hole's the same. }
The Moral.
A _Man in profitable Station,
Grown rich by Plundering the Nation,
Is often willing to resign,
But seldom to refund the Coin_.
_The Wolf and the Stork._
Wolves commonly are fam'd for Eating,
As much, as Foxes are for Cheating.
One of 'em, at a Mutton Feast,
Devour'd his Meat with so much haste;
A Bone got in his Throat, and there
Stuck fast; some Learned Authors swear,
It was the _Os Sacrum_; others say,
It was one of the _Vertebrae_.
But hang disputes; since it is all one
What Bone it was; so 'twas no small one.
There stood Sir Wolf, and full of Grief
Made signs he wanted quick Relief.
And well it was he could not Cry;
For no Soul would have come a nigh.
At last he shews it to a Stork,
The long-leg'd Surgeon goes to Work;
Takes out the Bone immediately;
And when 'twas done, desir'd his Fee.
Sure, says the Wolf, whoever draws
His Head out harmless from my Jaws,
May boast of such a Happiness,
As far o'erpays all Offices;
A thing which ne'er was done before,
And may be, ne'er will happen more.
But O Damn'd Vice Ingratitude!
To scape with Life, and be so rude,
As to ask Fees! take care young Man,
You never see my Face again.
The Moral.
_Some Folks are so mischievous grown,
They claim Thanks if they let y' alone._
_The Frogs asking for a King._
The Frogs, after some Ages spent
In Democratick Government,
Grew weary of it, and agree,
To change it for a Monarchy;
And humbly begg'd a King of _Jove_,
The God comply'd, and from above
Dropt 'em a very peaceful one;
But only in the falling down,
He made such Noise, that all the Frogs,
Who are but fearful skittish Dogs
Were frighted and drove under Water,
And there remain'd a good while after,
Among the Weeds; their fear was such,
There was not one, that dar'd so much
As look upon him, whom they thought
Some Giant, or the Lord knows what.
Tho' all this while 'twas but a Log,
At last came up a daring Frog;
But took care, not to swim too nigh it,
Till, seeing it lay so very quiet,
He went on, tho' in mighty awe;
But when his Fellow Subjects saw
Their Bulky King did him no harm,
In half an Hour the Pond did swarm
Of Frogs. O! what a pretty thing
It was to play about their King:
The meekest that e'er wore a Crown;
And soon they're so familiar grown,
That laying all respect aside,
They jump upon his Back, and ride.
The King says nothing, keeps his Peace,
And let's em work him as they please.
But this they hate, they'd have him move.
A second time they call on _Jove_,
And tire his Brain with clam'rous rout,
To have a King, that stirr'd about.
_Jove_ mad for being plagu'd again,
Sends em a Damn'd devouring Crane;
Who only was for Kill, and Slay,
And eat whoe'er came in his way.
Much louder now the Rascals cry;
Deliver us from Tyranny!
O _Jupiter_! if he goes on, }
We shall be murder'd every one, }
This is the Devil upon dun. }
Quoth he, I'll humour Fools no more,
You might have kept what ye had before;
You left your common wealth, to seek
A King; and then he was too meek;
You must have one forsooth, that stirs:
I hope now you have got one, Sirs.
You never chang'd without a Curse,
Keep this, for fear you get a worse.
The Moral.
_Thank God, this Fable is not meant }
To_ Englishmen; _they are content, }
And hate to change their Government._ }
_The Wolf and the Lamb._
It is a thing without contest,
That he that's strongest reasons best.
The Weather being sultry hot,
A Lamb to cool himself, was got
A paddling in a purling Stream.
(To Rhiming Fools a mighty Theme)
When a she Wolf (the De'l sure sent her)
Came down, in quest of some Adventure,
And hardly spy'd poor Innocence;
But pick'd a Quarrel void of Sence;
Began to sputter, Damn and Sink,
Ask'd how he dar'd to spoil her Drink,
A nasty poysoning Dog. Odsbud!
He'd make it all as thick as mud.
For which he'd punish him by _Jove_.
Madam, reply'd the Lamb, I love
To reason calmly, and will show ye,
That I am Twenty Yards below ye.
And humbly craving leave, from thence
I draw this reg'lar Consequence;
That I can't, standing in this Place,
Disturb the Liquor of your Grace.
You do, says the other, and last Year
You told some lies of me. I swear,
I was not born then, quoth the Lamb:
I han't left sucking of my Dam.
'Twas either you or else your Brother.
I've ne'er a one. Then 'twas your Mother,
Or any other near Relation;
For all your wicked Generation
Hates me; your Dogs and Shepherds too
And without any more a do,
The Lamb was carry'd to the Wood
And serv'd the cruel Wolf for Food.
_The Lyon grown old._
A Valiant Lyon, now grown old,
His Limbs and Jaws benumb'd and cold,
Lay thinking on his Royal Bed,
With scarce a Tooth in all his Head:
And Claws worn to the Stumps with Tearing:
(But every thing's the worse for wearing)
And whilst he labour'd to repent,
Complaining of his Youth mispent,
His Rebel Subjects paid no more,
That Honour, which they gave before,
But treat him with Contempt and Scorn:
The Bull does push him with his Horn,
The Horse affronts him with his Heels:
No Tongue can tell what grief he feels
From these insulting Enemies.
In comes the Ass; but when he sees,
That Coward too forget his Duty,
He dying said, _Tu quoque Brute?_
_The two Physicians._
Two graduate Physicians,
Of many Years Experience,
With Coaches to proclaim their Skill,
Are sent for to a Man that's ill.
One feels his Pulse and gives him over:
But th' other says he may recover;
I have great hopes, we'll give him some
Of my _Antithanaticum_.
No, cries the first, he is too weak;
Yes truly Sir, I'm very sick,
Replies the Patient; down they sate,
And enter'd in a deep Debate:
One quotes four Words of _Arabick_,
Th' other an Aphorism in _Greek_.
They're very hot, and every one
Sticks to his own Opinion.
The Upshot was, they writ a Bill,
Which neither lik'd of very well:
They visit him some Days, and vent
Many a learned Argument;
But as his Life went on full Speed,
He could not stay till they agreed,
And so march'd off; and when he's dead,
Both still are in the right; one said,
I told you so, his very Eye
Prognosticated he would dye:
And th' other cry'd, had I been believ'd,
I'm very sure, he would have liv'd.
_Love and Folly._
The charming God, that with his Bow,
So many Thousand Years ago,
Came to that troublesome Employ,
He serves in still, is but a Boy:
His Art is so mysterious,
That to explain his business,
His Tackle, Arrows, Quiver, Taper,
Would take up several Reams of Paper;
Which being more than I've a mind
To fill; I'll only, since he is blind,
Tell you which way he lost his sight,
With what came on't, and so good Night.
Folly and Love took one another
Aside, as Boys will run together,
And crept into a Nook of Heaven,
To play at Seven or Eleven;
And here good People, Gamesters may
Behold what mischief comes from Play:
There 'rose a quarrel about the Main,
Its Eight says Love, and thought 'twas plain;
Quoth Folly, but I'm sure 'tis Nine,
You Little Cheat, the Game is mine:
At last Words growing very high,
Love gives his angry Foe the Lie;
Then up starts Folly, flings the Dice
At Love, and beats out both his Eyes.
_Venus_ would be reveng'd, bawl'd out,
And shed so many Tears about
The Peepers of her little Son,
That she was like to have spoil'd her own.
She would have Justice done, she swore,
Call'd Folly Rogue and Son 'f a Whore:
How did you do't; I'll make you dance?
Indeed said Folly, 'twas by chance.
Cry'd _Cupid_, you're a punning Cur,
And snobb'd. In comes the Thunderer,
With all the Gods and Goddesses,
To sit upon the Business,
Between Love and the Boy at Bar.
The Cuckold and the God of War
Were very hot, they'd have him dye;
But when _Minerva_ ask'd him, Why?
They said, because----Be free from rage,
Ye Gods, said _Themis_, mind his Age,
And then the Council seem'd to incline
To make him only pay a Fine
To Love. But the injur'd Mother cries,
That won't do, I'll have both his Eyes,
_Secundum legem Talionis_,
He shall pay _Corpore non bonis_.
_Apollo_ bids her to be civil.
T'have two blind Boys would be the Devil,
Said _Juno_, and this gave the hint
To _Jove_, t'inflinct a Punishment,
That might ease Love; what must he do?
He could not walk alone; and so
'Twas fixed by all the Gods above,
That Folly should be guide to Love.
_A She-Goat, a Sheep and a Sow._
A She-Goat that gave exc'lent Milk,
A Sheep, whose Fleece was soft as Silk,
And a fat Sow went to the Fair
In the same Cart, not to take th' Air,
Or to see Shows; but, as I am told,
Downright in order to be sold;
All the way long the Sow did squawl,
And scream enough to deafen 'em all;
Had she been follow'd by six score
Butchers, she could have done no more:
The other Creatures wonder'd at her,
And could not dream what was the matter;
They thought it must proceed from fear;
And yet perceived no danger near;
The Carter told her, What d'ye mean?
Who gives you reason to complain?
Your Cries have stunn'd us; what d'ye make
This horrid Noise for? prithee take
Example by your Company,
Be silent or talk civilly.
Look on that Sheep, he thinks you're mad;
Has he spoke one Word good or bad?
No: He is wise.----The Devil he is,
Replies the Sow, could he but guess,
Whither you carry us, or why;
I'm sure he'd bawl as loud as I:
He's used to Shears, and so the Fool
Thinks only that you'll take his Wool;
And this good Lady with the Beard
Has no great Cause to be afear'd;
She's daily milk'd and does depend on't,
you'll drain her Dug, and there's an end on't:
And 't maybe so, or 't may be not:
But, wou'd you have me such a sot,
Who 'm good for nothing, whilst I've Breath,
To be afraid of less than Death?
The Moral.
_Upon my Word 'twas shrewdly said,
Of one that was no better bred:
Yes all this sad complaints and fear
Are for the Thing she's forced to bear:
And tho' she knew, she was to dye,
She could not change her destiny.
Therefore I think, where all is lost,
He, that sees farthest, suffers most._
_The Dog and the Ass._
Help one another is, no doubt,
A Law we can't live well without:
Yet one Day, (and how't came to pass
I don't know) 't happen'd that an Ass,
Who's otherwise an honest Creature,
Of no uncharitable Nature,
Did slight it: A large Dog and he
Were travelling in Company,
Without a thought of Strife or Care,
Followed by him whose Goods they were;
And coming to some curious Grass,
The latter went to sleep; his Ass,
Who was a Lover of good Pasture,
Made better use on't than his Master,
And fell a feeding heartily:
But the poor Dog stood starving by,
And said, Much good may do thy heart,
Dear fellow Traveller; thou art
My loving Friend.--But Mr. _Gray_,
My Meat is in your Panier, pray,
Stoop down, and let me take out some,
I han't eat since we came from home;
He gets no Answer, asks again,
But No, th' _Arcadian_ Gentleman
Thought every Word a mouthful lost,
And would say nothing to his cost,
So held his Tongue a while; at last
He told him, Friend, I am in haste,
And, when I stoop my Back, it akes;
Have patience till your Master wakes,
It won't be long, and then you'll get
Your Belly full, if he thinks fit.
Just then a Wolf came from the Wood,
And they have Appetites as good
As any; Grizz'l at a distance
Hears him, and asks the Dog's assistance;
But he don't budge, and serves him right;
Says he, I never us'd to fight
Without a cause for fighting's sake;
Stay till your Master is awake;
Hear what he says, it won't be long;
Sir Wolf won't offer any wrong;
And if you fear his Teeth or Claws,
Knock but his Brains out, break his Jaws,
And lay him sprawling on the Ground;
You're newly Shod, and Iron bound;
And whilst this fine Discourse went on,
Poor Grizzle's business was done.
The Moral.
_None can live happily together,
Without assisting one another._
_The Fox and Wolf._
The Fox went on the search one Night,
The Moon had hung out all her light;
He sees her Image in a Well;
But what it was he could not tell;
Gets on the Bricks to look at ease:
At last concludes it is a Cheese:
One Bucket's down, the other up,
He jumps in that which was a-top,
And coming to the Water, sees
How little Skill he had in Cheese.
Poor Ren, remov'd from all Acquaintance,
Sits in the Bucket of Repentance;
And when the Rascal ought to have laid
The fault upon himself, it's said,
He blam'd his Stars, tho' I b'lieve rather
He curst the Moon, and all fair Weather.
Well, there he sat, and wish'd, no doubt on't,
For half his Tail that he was out on't:
Sometimes he rav'd and talk'd like mad, }
And every thing came in his Head, }
That to his purpose could be said. }
Happy are those that don't love Cheese;
We may go downward when we please,
But to come back again, _hoc opus_,
All tricks are vain; my only hope is,
That Somebody as wise as I,
Hits on my Whim, or else I die.
Two Days are past; poor Animal,
Sees Nobody come near the Well;
And now old Time had in one Place,
Cut a good piece of _Cynthia's_ Face;
For as he does all things, he eats her,
And takes a slice, where'er he meets her:
_Volpone_ spies it, and it grieved him,
To see that spoil'd which had deceiv'd him,
Thinking his case was desperate:
When on the third Night pretty late,
A Wolf who could not sleep, because
He felt an itching in his Jaws,
Look'd into it; What are you there?
Says Ren; pray see what I got here;
It is a groaning Cheese, 'twas made
From _Io's_ Milk, and _Faunus_ had
The ordering of it, 'twould have been
Kept for Dame _Juno's_ Lying in,
But she miscarry'd: I took off
This Corner; still there's Meat enough
For two or three, I thought on you,
Wish'd I might see you, and to shew,
How I esteem, love, and adore ye,
That Bucket's left on purpose for ye.
The silly Wolf believes, gets in,
And draws _Volpene_ up again.
The Moral.
_Don't blame the stupid Animal,
You credit things less probable;
And most Men easily give ear,
To what they either wish or fear._
_FINIS._
THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY
_WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY_
University of California, Los Angeles
PUBLICATIONS IN PRINT
#1948-1949#
15. John Oldmixon, _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley_ ...
(1712) and _A. Mainwaring's The British Academy_ ... (1712).