The churl rides like a bishop's calf. 'Not I,' The Miller made the girls a sharp reply: 'Too old for veal, you hussies, and ill-famed.' Still with such jesting he became ashamed, Thought he'd done wrong; and changing his weak mind, [Illustration: THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THE ASS.] Took up his son upon the croup behind. But three yards more, a third, sour, carping set, Began to cavil,--'Biggest fools we've met! The beast is done--he'll die beneath their blows. What! load a poor old servant!' so it grows: 'They'll go to market, and they'll sell his skin.' 'Parbleu!' the Miller said, 'not worth a pin The fellow's brains who tries with toil and strife To please the world, his neighbour, and his wife. But still we'll have a try as we've begun:' So off the Ass they jumped, himself and son. The Ass in state goes first, and then came they. A quidnunc met them--What! is that the way? The Ass at ease, the Miller quite foot-sore! That seems an Ass that's greatly held in store. Set him in gold--frame him--now, by the mass, Wear out one's shoes, to save a paltry Ass! Not so went Nicolas his Jeanne to woo; The song says that he rode to save his shoe. There go three asses.' 'Right,' the Miller cries; 'I am an Ass, it's true, and you are wise; But henceforth I don't care, so let them blame Or praise, no matter, it shall be the same; Let them be quiet, pshaw! or let them tell, I'll go my own way now;'" and he did well. Then follow Mars, or Cupid, or the Court, Walk, sit, or run, in town or country sport, Marry or take the cowl, empty or fill the bag, Still never doubt the babbling tongues will wag. FABLE XXXVIII. THE COCK AND THE FOX.