He'd prove the priests and bishops all,
Were fervants to the idol Baal,
Drones, idle belly-gods, and fo forth;
A crew of useless things of no worth.
To fum up all he would aver,

And prove a faint could never err;
And that let faints do what they will,
That faints are faints and were fo ftill.
After this worthy babe of grace
Had three times hemm'd and fet his face,
He thus begins: By inspiration
I find we are a finful nation,

And fince the Spirit gives me leave,
I'll not my felf, nor you deceive.
And here he blew his nose and hemm'd,
This Item should not be contemn'd,
This monfter muft in courfe be fent,
To warn us of our punishment;
For whoring, drunkenness, and fwearing,
Or more ungodly cavaliering
The cavaliering is, my friends,
The caufe to which our ruin tends.
That wicked creature, call'd a king,
Is an abominable thing;

And 'till that monster be remov'd,
We shall be neither blefs'd, nor lov'd,
Nay, I believe, this very brute,
O'er all the beafts is abfolute,
And, like the king, by right inherent,
In all the woods and plains, vicegerent.
I would not carry things too far,
Nor overftretch the mataphor;
But if we fafely may rely on
Desborough, then he's a lyon,
As arbitrary and defpotick,

As is the Vandals king and Gothick;
And rules the beafts with fuch a fway,
That if they chance to disobey,
Off goes their ears, as was of late,
Of our three worthies the hard fate.
Says he, for faints to fight and jar,
May well be call'd a civil war ;

But

But for the faints to kill the king
And all his friends, is no fuch thing;
For there's a diff'rence 'twixt the blood
Of royalift and the brotherhood.
Suppofe the beafts, for we'll fuppofe
The thing, tho' it for nothing goes,
Should rife at once, both one and all,
And on this headstrong monster fall,
And fhould deftroy the branch and root
Of him and all his whelps to boot;
Now can a man that is not ftark
Staring mad, or in the dark,
Conclude the beafts commit offence,
By murd'ring him they call a prince,
One that would worry 'em and tear 'em,
And not for petty crimes would spare 'em,
What fignifies the empty word
Of king, of bishop, or my lord,
They're only common words of course,
And in themselves, of little force,
Meer linfey-woolfey fluff and nonfenfe,
Compar'd with Liberty or Confcience:
There is in these two words alone,
More force and virtue, ten to one,
Than is in all that paultry book,
That is by fome for prayers miflook;
Nay, the whole bible can't afford
A better and more useful word,
Than Confcience: to be plain and brief
Confcience of all the words is chief:
I cannot name it without passion,
At leaft fome fecret agitation.
Confcience is an internal light,
That ne'er goes out by day or night;
I may, perhaps, a little vary,
As things fucceed, or things mifcarry;
For by the faints 'tis held, fuccefs
Is a fure guide to confciences:
Success and confcience are the fame,
And differ little but in name;
Some confciences indeed may winch,
Like jades that ill-fluff'd saddles pinch s

And

And we may have, fpight of our ears,
Some inward qualms, fome doubts and fears,
But then fuccefs takes off their fting,
And does the man to temper bring.
If confcience and int'reft differ,

Confcience, in courfe, will grow the ftiffer ;
On th' other hand, if they agree,
Confcience is pliant, frank and free.
It must be own'd that any faint
May boggle at the covenant,
And feem a little shy and loath,
To take, for nothing, a false oath;
But when fuccefs and int'reft force,
Thefe things are only things of course.

And thus went on this holderforth,
Till a fresh outcry stopp'd his mouth.
A knight there was of paffing worth,
Who with his neighbours fally'd forth,
A sportsman keen, as ever fet
A fnare, or fpring, or drew a net,
Could find a rabbit or a hare,
The best of any that was there :
And what was more, he understood
Each turn and winding of the wood :
To speak his character in brief,
He was among the poachers chief.

As gen'rals, when they go to fight,
Firft view the ground, e'en fo our knight
Rid round and round about the place,
In which the lion fhelter'd was:
But as it happens now and then,
We fall by our own ftratagem,
So by the fequel you will fee
Th' event of Reynard's treachery.
Reynard, as you before were told,
Lay clofe enkennell'd in ftrong hold,
Expecting when they would affail
The royal brute with tooth and nail;
But as that things do often flip,
The proverb fays, 'twixt cup and lip,
Juft fo it happen'd in this cafe,

For chance brings many things to pass;

A beagle

A beagle of the knight's retinue,
Coming by chance to an avenue,
Did by unlucky inftinct find,
That Reynard lay full in the wind;
The dog no fooner took the fcent,
But forwards he with fury went,
And as he runs he opens too,
As all ftaunch hounds by nature do.
The knight impatient of delay,
Bawls, Hark to Fowler, hark away;
For Fowler was a dog, he knew,
Ne'er cry'd it but it must be true;
And not to do his worship wrong,
Of dogs none better knew the tongue;
Nor was a tongue e'er better known
Among the dogs, than was his own.
Reynard, who heard the cry was coming,
Knew now there was no way, but running.
And what was worfe too, he must pafs
Just where the mob affembled was.
About the brake he made fome doubles,
But that did but augment his troubles:
The fcent lay high, and ev'ry round,
To th' dogs himself he nearer found,
And fo, before he loft more ftrength,
He thought it beft to run a length,
And try if he could reach that earth
From whence he could not be got forth.
The lion who had quiet lain,

But not, perhaps, without fome pain;
For let a beaft be ne'er fo ftout,
'Tis dang'rous to engage a rout;
And he that will with rabbles fight,
Whether he be i'th' wrong or right,
Will find his blood and courage wasted,
And muft expect to be well basted.
This royal brute, whofe gen'rous breast
With doubts and fears, tho' ne'er oppreft,
Yet feeing tumults and a hurry,
Judg'd it unfafe for him to tarry ;
So to his den unfeen repairs,
And left the fox to stand the bears.

The fox, tho' fubtle, ftrong, and swift,
Was now reduc'd to his laft fhift;

And as 'tis faid, that wit is best
In fudden causes, fo the beaft,
Concludes, his ruin to prevent,
To try this bold experiment.

Near to a plain there dwelt a lord,
Whofe park did store of deer afford,
And had all forts of other game,
For fome were wild and fome were tame;
Thinks he, if I could thither get,
I fhould these reftlefs curs defeat.
Thither, with all his force and might,
The crafty vermin took his flight,
And finding in the pale a hole,
Prefs'd by his danger, in he stole.
But this had likewise prov'd in vain,
And he inevitably flain,

Had not the paffage been so small,
That not a dog could thro' it crawl.
And thus we fee, as Stoics hold,
That fortune ftill doth help the bold,
And the most daring subtle knave,
Doth often from destruction fave,
Whilft thofe of worth, and better fort,
Are but her merriment and sport.
But to let fmall adventures pafs,
Proceed we next to tell the cafe,
How Reynard like a politician,

That had more heads than beaft in vision,
And in each head had fome design,

The royal brute to undermine.

Have you not heard of one of late,

A potent stickler for the ftate;

One that could break his faith and troth,
With as much ease as eat his broth,
Play'd faft and loofe, for and against,
Till he had got himself advanc'd ;
Had feen three governments run down,
And had a hand in ev'ry one;
Could fail with ev'ry wind and tide,
And be on both or either fide.

Such