Esop. Pr'ythee how?
1 Play. Why, he walk'd off, and answered me never a Word.
Esop. How had you Patience?
1 Play. Sir, I had not Patience. I sent him a Challenge; and what do you think his answer was?—He sent me Word I was a scoundrel Son of a Whore, and he wou'd only fight me by Proxy——
Esop. Very fine!
1 Play. At this rate, Sir, were we poor Dogs us'd—till one frosty Morning down he comes amongst us—and very roundly tells us——That for the future, no Purchase, no Pay. They that wou'd not work, shou'd not eat——Sir, we at first ask'd him coolly and civilly——Why? His answer was, Because the Town wanted Diversion, and he wanted Money——Our Reply to this, Sir, was very short; but I think to the purpose.
Esop. What was it?
1 Play. It was, Sir, that so we wallow'd in Plenty and Ease——the Town and he might be damn'd——This, Sir, is the true History of our Separation——and we hope you'll stand our Friend——
Esop. I'll tell you what, Sirs——
I once a Pack of Beagles knew——
That much resembled I know who;
With a good Huntsman at their Tail,
In full Command,
With Whip in Hand,
They'd run apace
The chearful Chace,
And of their Game were seldom known to fail.
But being at length their chance to find
A Huntsman of a gentler Kind,
They soon perceiv'd the Rein was slack;
The Word went quickly thro' the Pack——
They one and all cry'd Liberty;
This happy Moment we are free;
We'll range the Woods,
Like Nymphs and Gods,
And spend our Mouths in Praise of Mutiny.
With that, old Jowler trots away,
And Bowman singles out his Prey;
Thunder bellow'd thro' the Wood,
And swore he'd burst his Guts with Blood;
Venus tript it o'er the Plain,
With boundless Hopes of boundless Gain;
——Juno, she slipt down the Hedge,
But left her sacred Word for Pledge,
That all she pickt up by the by——
Shou'd to the public Treasury;
And well they might rely upon her;
For Juno was a Bitch of Honour.
In short, they all had Hopes to see
A heavenly Crop of Mutiny.
And so to reaping fell.
But in a little Time they found,
It was the Devil had till'd the Ground,
And brought the Seed from Hell.
The Pack divided, nothing throve:
Discord seiz'd the Throne of Love.
Want and Misery all endure;
All take pains, and all grow poor.
When they had toil'd the live-long Day,
And came at Night to view their Prey,
Oft, alas, so ill they'd sped,
That half went Supperless to Bed.
At length they all in Council sate,
Where at a very fair Debate,
It was agreed at last,
That Slavery with Ease and Plenty,
When Hounds were something turn'd of twenty,
Was much a better Fate,
Than 'twas to work and fast.