Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent:
Some German quarrel, or, as times go now,
Some French,[190] where force is uppermost, will do.
When at the fountain's head, as merit ought
To claim the place, you take a swilling draught,
How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw,
And tax the sheep for troubling streams below;
Or call her, when no farther cause you find,
An enemy professed of all your kind!
But, then, perhaps, the wicked world would think,