Rog. Just as I drink, till I can sleep no longer.
Esop. You have some honest Neighbours?
Rog. Honest! 'Zbud we are all so, the Tawne raund, we live like Breether; when one can sarve another, he does it with all his Heart and Guts; when we have any thing that's good, we eat it together, Holidays and Sundays we play at Nine-pins, tumble upon the Grass with wholesome young Maids, laugh till we split, daunce till we are weary, eat till we burst, drink till we are sleepy, then swap into Bed, and snore till we rise to Breakfast.
Esop. And all this thou wou'dst leave to go to Court? I'll tell thee what once happen'd:
A Mouse, who long had liv'd at Court, }
(Yet ne'er the better Christian for't) }
Walking one Day to see some Country Sport, }
He met a home-bred Village-Mouse;
Who with an awkward Speech and Bow, }
That savour'd much of Cart and Plow, }
Made a shift, I know not how, }
T' invite him to his House.
Quoth he, My Lord, I doubt you'll find
Our Country Fare of homely kind;
But by my troth, you're welcome to't,
Y'ave that, and Bread and Cheese to boot:
And so they sat and din'd.
Rog. Very well.
Esop. The Courtier cou'd have eat at least
As much as any Houshold Priest,
But thought himself oblig'd in Feeding,
To shew the difference of Town breeding;
He pick'd and cull'd, and turn'd the Meat,
He champt and chew'd, and cou'd not eat:
No toothless Woman at Fourscore,
Was ever seen to mumble more.
He made a thousand ugly Faces, }
Which (as sometimes in Ladies cases) }
Were all design'd for Airs and Graces. }
Rog. Ha, ha!
Esop. At last he from the Table rose,
He pick'd his Teeth and blow'd his Nose,
And with an easy Negligence,
As tho' he lately came from France,
He made a careless sliding Bow:
'Fore Gad, quoth he, I don't know how
I shall return your friendly Treat;
But if you'll take a bit of Meat
In Town with me,
You there shall see,
How we poor Courtiers eat.
Rog. Tit for tat; that was friendly.