The beasts well-manner'd and the fishes mute.
A widow'd Aunt was there, compelled by need
The nymph to flatter and her tribe to feed;
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Who, veiling well her scorn, endured the clog,
Mute as the fish and fawning as the dog.
As years increased, these treasures, her delight,
Arose in value in their owner's sight:
A miser knows that, view it as he will,
A guinea kept is but a guinea still;