I THE DOG AND THE FOX. TO A LAWYER. KNOW YOU LAWYERS can, with ease, Twist words and meanings as you please; That language, by your skill made pliant, That 'tis the fee directs the sense You hold there's doubt in all expression. Hence is the bar with fees supply'd; Your hand would have but paltry gleaning, And now we're well secur'd by law, Read o'er a will. Was't ever known Sagacious PORTA's skill could trace Some beast or bird in ev'ry face; The head, the eye, the nose's shape, Prov'd this an owl, and that an ape. When, in the sketches thus design'd, Resemblance brings some friend to mind; You show the piece, and give the hint, And find each feature in the print; So monstrous like the portrait's found, All know it, and the laugh goes round. Like him, I draw from gen'ral nature: Is't I or you, then, fix the satire ? So, Sir, I beg you spare your pains I judge not of my neighbour's breast; And write no libels on the state. Shall not my fable censure vice, Because a knave is over-nice? And, lest the guilty hear and dread, Shall not the decalogue be read? If I lash vice in gen'ral fiction, Is't I apply, or self-conviction? Brutes are my theme. Am I to blame If men in morals are the same? I no man call or ape, or ass 'Tis his own conscience holds the glass. Thus, void of all offence, I write : Who claims the fable, knows his right. A shepherd's DOG, unskill'd in sports, Pick'd up acquaintance of all sorts: Among the rest a Fox he knew; By frequent chat their friendship grew. Says REYNARD-'Tis a cruel case That man should stigmatize our race. No doubt, among us rogues you find, As among DOGS and human kind; And yet (unknown to me and you) By talk like this from all mistrust As on a time the Fox held forth On conscience, honesty, and worth, Sudden he stopt; he cock'd his ear; Low dropt his bushy tail with fear. Bless us! the hunters are abroad. What's all that clatter on the road? Hold, says the DOG, we're safe from harm: 'Twas nothing but a false alarm. At yonder town 'tis market-day; Some farmer's wife is on the way. 'Tis so (I know her pie-ball'd mare)— Dame DOBBINS, with her poultry-ware. REYNARD grew huff. Says he, This sneer From you I little thought to hear; |