Either in Lovers, husbands, or expense. The more their beauty the more fortune too-- Beauty before the wide world never knew-- So each fair reasons--tho' it oft miscarries. She thought _her_ pretty face would please the fairies. 'My darling Ape I won't whip you to-day, Give me the Picklock sirrah and go play.' They all three wept but counsel was as vain As crying cup biddy to drops of rain. Yet lingering by did the sad Ape forth draw The Picklock from the Pocket in his Jaw. The Princess took it, and dismounting straight Tripp'd in blue silver'd slippers to the gate And touch'd the wards, the Door full courteously Opened--she enter'd with her servants three. Again it clos'd and there was nothing seen But the Mule grazing on the herbage green. End of Canto XII. Canto the XIII. The Mule no sooner saw himself alone Than he prick'd up his Ears--and said 'well done; At least unhappy Prince I may be free-- No more a Princess shall side-saddle me. O King of Otaheite--tho' a Mule, Aye, every inch a King'--tho' 'Fortune's fool,' Well done--for by what Mr. Dwarfy said I would not give a sixpence for her head.' Even as he spake he trotted in high glee To the knotty side of an old Pollard tree, And rubb'd his sides against the mossed bark Till his Girths burst and left him naked stark Except his Bridle--how get rid of that Buckled and tied with many a twist and plait. At last it struck him to pretend to sleep, And then the thievish Monkies down would creep And filch the unpleasant trammels quite away. No sooner thought of than adown he lay, Shamm'd a good snore--the Monkey-men descended, And whom they thought to injure they befriended. They hung his Bridle on a topmost bough And off he went run, trot, or anyhow--