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As one of these (without his wand) Penfive along the winding strand Employ'd the folitary hour,

In projects to regain his power;

The waves in spreading circles ran,

Proteus arofe, and thus began.

Came you from court? For in your mien A felf-important air is seen.

He frankly own'd his friends had trick'd him, And how he fell his party's victim.

Know, fays the God, by matchless skill

I change to ev'ry shape at will;

But yet, I'm told, at court you fée

Those who prefume to rival me.

Thus faid. A fnake, with hideous trail,

Proteus extends his fcaly mail.

Know, fays the Man, though proud in place,

All courtiers are of reptile race.

Like you, they take that dreadful form,
Bask in the fun, and fly the ftorm;
With malice hifs, with envy glote,
And for convenience change their coat;
With new-got luftre rear their head,
Though on a dunghill born and bred.
Sudden the God a lion stands;

He shakes his mane, he fpurns the fands ;
Now a fierce lynx, with fiery glare,

A wolf, an afs, a fox, a bear.

Had

Had I ne'er liv'd at court, he cries,
Such transformation might surprise ;
But there, in quest of daily game,
Each able courtier acts the fame.
Wolves, lions, lynxes, while in place,
Their friends and fellows are their chace.
They play the bear's and fox's part;
Now rob by force, now steal with art.
They sometimes in the fenate bray;
Or, chang'd again to beafts of prey,
Down from the lion to the ape,
Practise the frauds of ev'ry shape.
So faid. Upon the God he flies,
In cords the struggling captive ties.
Now, Proteus, now (to truth compell'd)
Speak, and confefs thy art excell'd.
Ufe ftrength, furprize, or what you will,
The courtier finds evafion ftill;
Not to be bound by any ties,
•And never forc'd to leave his lies.

FABLE XXXIV.

The MASTIFFS.

Hofe who in quarrels interpose,
Must often wipe a bloody nose.

A Maftiff, of true English blood,
Lov'd fighting better than his food.

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When dogs were fnarling for a bone,

He long'd to make the

war his

own,

And often found (when two contend)
To interpofe obtain❜d his end;

He glory'd in his limping pace;
The scars of honour feam'd his face;
In ev'ry limb a gash appears,

And frequent fights retrench'd his ears.
As, on a time, he heard from far
Two dogs engag'd in noify war,
Away he scours and lays about him,
Refolv'd no fray fhould be without him.
Forth from his yard a tanner flies,
And to the bold intruder cries,

A cudgel fhall correct your manners.
Whence fprung this cursed hate to tanners?
While on my dog you vent your spite,
Sirrah! 'tis me you dare not bite.

To fee the battle thus perplex'd,
With equal rage a butcher vex'd,
Hoarse-screaming from the circled croud,
To the curs'd Maftiff cries aloud.
Both Hockley hole and Mary-bone
The combats of my Dog have known.
He ne'er, like bullies coward-hearted,
Attacks in publick, to be parted.
Think not, rash fool, to fhare his fame;
Be his the honour or the fhame.

Thus

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Thus faid, they fwore, and rav'd like thunder; Then dragg'd their faften'd dogs afunder;

While clubs and kicks from ev'ry fide

Rebounded from the Maftiff's hide.

All reeking now with fweat and blood,
A while the parted warriors ftood,
Then pour'd upon the meddling foe;
Who, worried, howl'd and sprawl'd below.
He rofe; and limping from the fray,
By both fides mangled, fneak'd away.

FABLE XXXV.

The BARLEY-Mow and the DUNGHILL.

OW many faucy airs we meet

HOW

From Temple-bar to Aldgate-ftreet ?

Proud rogues, who fhar'd the South-fea prey,
And sprung like mushrooms in a day!
They think it mean, to condefcend
To know a brother or a friend;

They blush to hear their mother's name,
And by their pride expose their shame.

As cross his yard, at early day,
A careful farmer took his way,
He ftop'd, and, leaning on his fork,
Obferv'd the flail's inceffant work.

In thought he measur'd all his store,
His geefe, his hogs, he number'd o'er;
In fancy weigh'd the fleeces shorn,
And multiply'd the next year's corn.
A Barley-mow, which food befide,
Thus to its mufing mafter cry'd.

Say, good Sir, is it fit or right
To treat me with neglect and flight?
Me, who contribute to your cheer,
And raise your mirth with ale and beer?
Why thus infulted, thus disgrac'd,
And that vile Dunghill near me plac'd?
Are those poor fweepings of a groom,
That filthy fight, that naufeous fume,
Meet objects here? Command it hence!
A thing fo mean muft give offence.

The humble Dunghill thus reply'd.
Thy mafter hears, and mocks thy pride:
Infult not thus the meek and low;
In me thy benefactor know,

My warm affistance gave thee birth,
Or thou hadft perifh'd low in earth.
But upftarts, to support their station,
Cancel at once all obligation.

FABLE

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