FABLE L. The Fisher and young Fish:
Or, A Bird in the Hand, worth two in the Bush.
A
Fisher, Trolling with his Baited Hook,
Deceiv'd a poor young Native of the Brook.
The puny Captive pray'd him to excuse
Her Youth, that render'd her unfit for Use;
And when she to a larger Size was grown,
She pass'd her Word, she wou'd be all his own.
The Man reply'd, Forbear in vain to prate,
I will not purchase Hope at such a Rate;
For shou'd I now your Liberty restore,
'Tis ten to one I never hook you more:
Excuse me then, that I your Suit deny;
For, Friend, I have no other Fish to fry.
The MORAL.
‘Such stolid Mortals are for Bedlam fit,
‘Who Certainties, for Expectation, quit;
‘Or think it can the Rate of Joys inhance,
‘Whose sole Attainment must depend on Chance:
‘Since what we seek, we possibly may miss,
‘Fruition only makes a certain Bliss;
‘We know not what the Future may produce,
‘And of the Present Time shou'd make our Use:
‘Well may his disappointed Hopes grow stale,
‘Who lets a Crampus go, to take a Whale.
