A certain man had daughters three, Each of a different turn of mind: The one a toper, loving company; The second, fond of all coquetry; The third a miser, and to save inclined. The man left them, by will and deed, As laws municipal decreed, Half his estate, divided equally; And to their mother just the same: But only in her power to claim When all the daughters had their own And nothing more but that alone. The father dead, the daughters ran To read the will--they were not slow To con it; yet, do what they can, They could not understand it--no. What did he wish?--yes, that's the question That took a good deal of digestion. 'Each one that had her part, no more, Should to her mother pay it o'er.' It was not quite the usual way, With no gold left, to go and pay: What meant their worthy father, then? They run and ask the black-gowned men, Who turn the case for many days-- Turn it a hundred thousand ways; Yet after all, in sheer vexation, Throw down their wigs in perturbation. At last the judge advised the heirs At once to settle the affairs. As to the widow's part, the counsels say A third each sister's bound to pay, Upon demand, unless she choose to take A life annuity, for quietness' sake, Beginning from the day her husband died, And so they all decide. Then in three lots they part the whole estate: In number one the plate; The mighty cellars; summer-houses built Beneath the vine; The stores of rich Malvoisin wine; The spits, the bowls of silver gilt, And all the tribes of slaves who wait;-- In short, the perfect apparatus, That gives an epicure his social status. The second lot comprises All that a flirting girl surprises: Embroiderer's, and many a lady's maid, Jewels, and costly robes;--be sure The town house, and the furniture, And stately eunuchs, rich arrayed. Lot three comprises farming-stock, Pastures and houses, fold and flock; Labourers and horses, stores and herds. This done, they fix, with many words, That since the lottery won't select What each one would the most affect, The eldest have what she likes best, Leaving the same choice to the rest. In Athens it fell out, This pleased the motley rout, Both great and small. The judge was praised by all; Æsop alone derided The way they had decided. After much time and pains, they'd gone, he thought, And set the wishes of the man at nought. "If the dead came to life," he said, "Athens aloud he would upbraid. What! men who cherish subtlety, To blunder o'er a will so stupidly!" Then quickly he divides, And thus the sage decides:-- To each he gave the part Least grateful to her heart: Pressing on them what they most hate.