FABLE II. The Mistress and her Maids:
Or, An Ill Disease, a Worse Remedy.
An aged Huswife, who did many Years,
Divide her Time between her Work, and Pray'rs,
And knew how Idleness enclin'd to Vice,
Made all her Maidens at first Cock-crow rise;
And gave them Tasks to finish e're 'twas Light;
For Sleep, she said, requir'd but half the Night.
The lazy Baggages, too fond of Bed,
Thought this a very weary Life they led;
And (that they might lie longer still, and sleep)
Destroy'd the Cock, who such ill Hours did keep.
But soon they found their wise Contrivance short;
For what they meant shou'd lengthen, spoil'd their Sport:
Their Dame, not knowing how the Minutes fled,
Call'd them to rise, e're they were warm in Bed.
The MORAL.
‘Thus, from one Evil, Fools to greater run,
‘And, by their own Devices, are undone:
‘While they contrive to shun what do's not please,
‘The Remedy proves worse than the Disease:
‘Like botching Workmen, they much Skill pretend,
‘But spoil whate'er they undertake to mend.
