University of Virginia Library


81

FABLE VI.

Crossing a river swift and wide,
A Horse, with an indignant eye,
Beheld a foolish piece of pride,
A piece of dung come prancing by.
Behold, said he, that compost vile,
The filthy stuff,
That was behind me half a mile,
Is now before me far enough.
But why should this make a Horse sick?
Delighted with malicious jokes,
Fortune plays many a worse trick,
When she plays some of her fine strokes.
Did not she, fearless of reproach,

82

Bestow on him that rubb'd my heels,
My master's widow and his coach,
And kitchen-stuff, to grease the wheels?
The lucky dog, said he, and smil'd,
Has got her daughter too with child.
 
But why should this make a Horse sick?
This is not any new vagary,
Fortune plays many a worse trick,
Quoties voluit jocari.

For the sake of the Ladies the Author altered it.