No prejudice can blind a friend: 
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  You know me free from all disguise;
  My honour as my life I prize.’ 
     By talk like this, from all mistrust
  The dog was cured, and thought him just. 
     As on a time the fox held forth
  On conscience, honesty, and worth,
  Sudden he stopp’d; he cocked his ear;
  And dropp’d his brushy tail with fear. 
     ’Bless us! the hunters are abroad—­
  What’s all that clatter on the road?’
80
     ‘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 pyebald mare)
  Dame Dobbins, with her poultry ware.’ 
     Reynard grew huff.  Says he, ’This sneer
  From you I little thought to hear. 
  Your meaning in your looks I see;
  Pray, what’s Dame Dobbins, friend, to me?
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  Did I e’er make her poultry thinner? 
  Prove that I owe the Dame a dinner.’ 
  ‘Friend,’ quoth the cur, ’I meant no harm;
  Then, why so captious? why so warm? 
  My words in common acceptation,
  Could never give this provocation. 
  No lamb (for ought I ever knew)
  May be more innocent than you.’ 
     At this, galled Reynard winced and swore
  Such language ne’er was given before: 
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     ’What’s lamb to me? the saucy hint—­
  Show me, base knave, which way you squint,
  If t’other night your master lost
  Three lambs, am I to pay the cost? 
  Your vile reflections would imply
  That I’m the thief.  You dog, you lie.’ 
     ‘Thou knave, thou fool,’ the dog replied,
  ’The name is just, take either side;
  Thy guilt these applications speak;
  Sirrah,’tis conscience makes you squeak.’
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     So saying, on the fox he flies,
  The self-convicted felon dies.

* * * * *

FABLE II.

THE VULTURE, THE SPARROW, AND OTHER BIRDS.

  TO A FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY.

  Ere I begin, I must premise
  Our ministers are good and wise;
  So, though malicious tongues apply,
  Pray what care they, or what care I? 
     If I am free with courts; be’t known,
  I ne’er presume to mean our own. 
  If general morals seem to joke
  On ministers, and such like folk,
  A captious fool may take offence;
  What then? he knows his own pretence.
10
  I meddle with no state affairs,
  But spare my jest to save my ears. 
  Our present schemes are too profound,
  For Machiavel himself to sound: 
  To censure them I’ve no pretension;
  I own they’re past my comprehension. 
     You say your brother wants a place,
  (’Tis many a younger brother’s case,)
  And that he very soon intends
  To ply the Court, and tease his friends.
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  If there his merits chance to find