THE BUTTERFLY.
THE Butterfly in gaudy dress,
The worthless coxcomb doth express,
Who not regarding whence he rose,
Is proud of what?—of his fine clothes.
This gaudy Butterfly owes its being to a poor worm, and has nothing to boast of but his fine wings, which perhaps will be lost the first frosty day: and then his case will be much like the coxcomb’s, who having lost his fine hat and bag wig, has nothing to support him but a head full of emptiness.
