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If 'tis with reason they complain,
This said, she plucks in Heaven's high bowers
The Graces next would act their part,
THE BEASTS' CONFESSION.
When beasts could speak, (the learned say
The Ass approaching next, confess’d,
Then for his voice, there's none disputes That he's the nightingale of brutes.
The Swine with contrite heart allow'd, His shape and beauty made him proud : In diet was perhaps too nice, But gluttony was ne'er his vice : In every turn of life content, And meekly took what fortune sent : Inquire through all the parish round, A better neighbour ne'er was found ; His vigilance might some displease ; 'Tis true, he hated sloth like pease.
The mimic Ape began his chatter, How evil tongues his life bespatter; Much of the censuring world complain’d, Who said, his gravity was feign'd : Indeed, the strictness of his morals Engaged him in a hundred quarrels : He saw, and he was grieved to see 't, His zeal was sometimes indiscreet : He found his virtues too severe For our corrupted times to bear; Yet such a lewd licentious age Might well excuse a stoic's rage.
The Goat advanced with decent pace, And first excused his youthful face ; Forgiveness begg’d that he appear'd ('Twas Nature's fault) without a beard. 'Tis true, he was not much inclined To fondness for the female kind : Not, as his enemies object, From chance, or natural defect ; Not by his frigid constitution; But through a pious resolution : For he had made a holy vow "Of Chastity, as monks do now : Which he resolved to keep for ever hence And strictly too, as doth his reverence.
Apply the tale, and you shall find, How just it suits with human kind. Some faults we own; but can you guess ? -Why, virtue's carried to excess, Wherewith our vanity endows us, Though neither foe nor friend allows us.
The Lawyer swears (you may rely on't) He never squeezed a needy client; And this he makes his constant rule, For which his brethren call him fool ; His conscience always was so nice, He freely gave the poor advice; By which he lost, he may affirm, A hundred fees last Easter term ; While others of the learned robe, Would break the patience of a Job. No pleader at the bar could match His diligence and quick dispatch ; Ne'er kept a cause, he well may boast, Above a term or two at most.
The cringing knave, who seeks a place Without success, thus tells his case : Why should he longer mince the matter? He failed, because he could not flatter; He had not learn'd to turn his coat, Nor for a party give his vote : His crime he quickly understood ; Too zealous for the nation's good : He found the ministers resent it, Yet could not for his heart repent it.
The Chaplain vows, he cannot fawn, Though it would raise him to the lawn : He passed his hours among his books ; You find it in his meagre looks : He might, if he were worldly wise, Preferment get, and spare his eyes ; But owns he had a stubborn spirit, That made him trust alone to merit ;
Would rise by merit to promotion ;
The Doctor, if you will believe him,
The Statesman tells you, with a sneer, His fault is to be too sincere; And having no sinister ends, Is apt to disoblige his friends. The nation's good, his master's glory, Without regard to Whig or Tory, Were all the schemes he had in view, Yet he was seconded by few ;