Counsel fhe may; and I will give thy Ear
The Knowledge first, of what is fit to hear.
What I tranfact with others, or alone,

Beware to learn; nor prefs too near the Throne.

To whom the Goddefs with the charming Eyes, What haft thou faid, O Tyrant of the Skies, When did I fearch the Secrets of thy Reign, [vain? Though privileg'd to know, but privileg'd in But well thou doft, to hide from common Sight Thy close Intrigues, too bad to bear the Light. Nor doubt I, but the Silver-footed Dame, Tripping from Sea, on fuch an Errand came, To grace her Iffue, at the Grecians Coft, And for one peevish Man destroy an Hoft.

To whom the Thund'rer made this fternReply My Houshold Curfe, my lawful Plague, the Spy Of Jove's Designs, his other fquinting Eye; Why this vain prying, and for what avail? Jove will be Master still, and Juno fail. Shou'd thy fufpicious Thoughts divine aright, Thou but becom'ft more odious to my Sight, For this Attempt: uneafie Life to me

Still watch'd, and importun'd, but worse for thee.

Curb that impetuous Tongue, before too late
The Gods behold, and tremble at thy Fate.
Pitying, but daring not, in thy Defence,
To lift a Hand against Omnipotence.

[Fear:

This heard, th' Imperious Queen fate mute with Nor further durft incenfe the gloomy Thunderer. Silence was in the Court at this Rebuke: [Look. Nor cou'd the Gods abafh'd, fuftain their Sov'reigns The Limping Smith obferv'd the fadden'd Feast, And hopping here and there (himself a Jeft) Put in his Word, that neither might offend; To Jove obfequious, yet his Mother's Friend. What end in Heav'n will be of civil War, If Gods of Pleasure will for Mortals jar? Such Difcord but difturbs our Jovial Feaft; One Grain of Bad, embitters all the best. Mother, tho' wife your felf, my Counsel weigh; "Tis much unfafe my Sire to difobey.

Not only you provoke him to your Coft,

But Mirth is marr'd, and the good Chear is lost. Tempt not his heavy Hand; for he has Pow'r To throw you headlong, from his Heav'nly Tow'r.

But one fubmiffive Word, which you let fall,
Will make him in good Humour with us All.

He faid no more; but crown'd a Bowl, unbid:
The laughing Nectar overlook'd the Lid:
Then put it to her Hand; and thus purfu'd,
This curfed Quarrel be no more renew'd.
Be, as becomes a Wife, obedient ftill;
Though griev'd, yet fubject to her Husband's Will.
I wou'd not fee you beaten; yet afraid
Of Jove's fuperior Force, I dare not aid.
Too well I know him, fince that hapless Hour
When I, and all the Gods employ'd our Pow'r
To break your Bonds: Me by the Heel he drew;
And o'er Heav'n's Battlements with Fury threw.
All Day I fell; My Flight at Morn begun,
And ended not but with the setting Sun.
Pitch'd on my Head, at length the Lemnian Ground
Receiv'd my batter'd Skull, the Sinthians heal'd
my Wound.

At Vulcan's homely Mirth his Mother fmil'd, And smiling took the Cup the Clown had fill'd.

The

The Reconciler Bowl went round the Board,
Which empty'd, the rude Skinker still restor❜d.
Loud Fits of Laughter seiz'd the Guests, to fee
The limping God fo deft at his new Ministry.
The Feast continu'd till declining Light:
They drank, they laugh'd, they lov'd, and then
'twas Night.

Nor wanted tuneful Harp, nor vocal Quire;
The Mufes fung; Apollo touch'd the Lyre.
Drunken at last, and drowfie they depart,
Each to his Houfe; Adorn'd with labour'd Art
Of the lame Architect: The thund'ring God
Ev'n he withdrew to Reft, and had his Load.
His fwimming Head to needful Sleep apply'd;
And Juno lay unheeded by his Side.

THE

COCK and the FOX:

OR, THE

TALE of the NUN'S PRIEST,

T

From

CHAUCER.

HERE liv'd, as Authors tell, in
Days of Yore,