I was the clev’rest of them all, and with the gods I play’d,
Just as a cat does with a mouse, which he has just waylaid.
First doth he his poor captive with feign’d caresses quail;
His eyes with malice sparkle; he frisks about his tail:
At length when weary of the sport his food Grimalkin needs,
His teeth inflict the mortal crunch, and then poor mousie bleeds!
But now Puss on the house-roof sits, nor deems himself secure
E’en there; he licks his beard and paws; his master from the door
Hath chased him in his anger, because i’ th’ cupboard he
With his dame’s hams and bacon had chosen to make free.