The Ass approaching next confes'd
That in his heart he lov'd a jest:
A wag he was, he needs must own,
And could not let a dunce alone:
Sometimes his friend he would not spare
And might perhaps be too severe ;
But yet, the worst that could be said,
He was a wit both born and bred;
And if it be a sin or shame,
Nature alone must bear the blame;
One fault he hath, is sorry for't,
His ears are half a foot too short,
Which could he to the standard bring,
He'd shew his face before the king:
Then for his voice, there's none disputes
That he's the nightingale of brutes.
The Swine with contrite heart allow'd
His shape and beauty made him proud ;
In diet was perhaps too nice,
But gluttony was ne'er his vice;
In ev'ry turn of life content,
And meekly took what Fortune sent:
Inquire thro' all the parish round,
A better neighbour ne'er was found:
His vigilance might some displease;
'Tis true he hated sloth like pease.
The mimic Ape began his chatter,
How evil tongues his life bespatter;
Much of the cens'ring world complain'd,
Who said his gravity was feign'd:
Indeed the strictness of his morals
Engag'd him in a hundred quarrels:
He saw, and he was griev'd to see't,
His zeal was sometimes indiscreet:
He found his virtues too severe
For our corrupted times to bear;
Yet such a lewd licentious age
Might well excuse a Stoic's rage.
The Goat advanc'd with decent pace,
And first excus'd his youthful face;
Forgiveness begg'd that he appear'd
('Twas Nature's fault) without a beard:
'Tis true he was not much inclin'd
To fondness for the female kind;
Not, as his enemies object,
From chance or natural defect,
Not by his frigid constitution,
But thro' a pious resolution;
For he had made a holy vow
Of chastity, as monks do now,
Which he resolv'd to keep for ever hence,
As strictly too as doth his Reverence.
Apply the tale, and you shall find
How just it suits with human-kind.
Some faults we own, but can you guess,
-Why virtue's carried to excess?
Wherewith our vanity endows us,
Tho' neither foe nor friend allows us.
The Lawyer swears, you may rely on't,
He never squeez'd a needy client;
And this he makes his constant rule,
For which his brethren call him Fool :
His conscience always was so nice,
He freely gave the poor advice,
By which he lost, he may affirm,
An hundred fees last Easter term.
While others of the learned robe
Would break the patience of a Job,
No pleader at the bar could match
His diligence and quick dispatch;
Ne'er kept a cause, he well may boast,
Above a term or two at most.
The cringing Knave, who seeks a place
Without success, thus tells his case :
Why should he longer mince the inatter?
He fail'd because he could not flatter;
He had not learn'd to turn his coat,
Nor for a party give his vote :
His crime he quickly understood,
Too zealous for the nation's good:
He found the ministers resent it,
Yet could not for his heart repent it.
The Chaplain vows he cannot fawn,
Tho' it would raise him to the lawn:
He pass'd his hours among his books;
You find it in his meagre looks:
He might, if he were worldly wise,
Preferment get, and spare his eyes;
But own'd he had a stubborn spirit,
That made him trust alone in merit;
Would rise by merit to promotion:
Alas! a mere chimeric notion.
The Doctor, if you will believe him,
Confess'd a sin; and, God forgive him!
Call'd up at midnight, ran to save
A blind old beggar from the grave :
But see how Satan spreads his snares!
He quite forgot to say his pray'rs.
He cannot help it for his heart
Sometimes to act the parson's part;
Quotes from the Bible many a sentence,
That moves his patients to repentance;
And when his med'cines do no good,
Supports their minds with heav'nly food 5
At which, however well intended,
He hears the clergy are offended,
And grown so bold behind his back,
To call him hypocrite and quack.
In his own church he keeps a seat,
Says grace before and after meat,
And calls, without affecting airs,
His household twice a-day to pray'rs.
He shuns apothecaries' shops,
And hates to cram the sick with slops;
He scorns to make his art a trade,
Nor bribes my Lady's fav'rite maid:
Old nurse-keepers would never hire
To recommend him to the 'squire,
Which others, whom he will not name,
Have often practis'd to their shame.
The Staetesman tells you with a sneer,
His fault is to be too sincere ;
And, having no sinister ends,
Is apt to disoblige his friends.
The nation's good, his master's glory,
Without regard to Whig or Tory,
Were all the schemes he had in view,
Yet he was seconded by few:
Tho' some had spread a thousand lies,
'Twas he defeated the Excise;
'Twas known, tho' he had borne aspersion,
His promises he ne'er forgot,
But took memorials on the spot:
His enemies, for want of charity,
Said he affected popularity;
'Tis true the people understood
That all he did was for their good;
Their kind affections he has try'd;
No love is lost on either side.
He came to court with fortune clear,
Which now he runs out ev'ry year;
Must at the rate that he goes on
Inevitably be undone.
Oh! if his Majesty would please
To give him but a Writ of Ease,
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