Our friend Dan Prior told (you know) A tale extremely _á propos_: Name a town life, and in a trice, He had a story of two mice. Once on a time (so runs the fable) A country mouse, right hospitable, Received a town mouse at his board, Just as a farmer might a lord. 160 A frugal mouse upon the whole. Yet loved his friend, and had a soul, Knew what was handsome, and would do 't, On just occasion, coúte qui coúte, He brought him bacon (nothing lean); Pudding, that might have pleased a dean; Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make, But wish'd it Stilton, for his sake; Yet, to his guest though no way sparing, He eat himself the rind and paring, 170 Our courtier scarce could touch a bit, But show'd his breeding and his wit; He did his best to seem to eat, And cried, 'I vow you're mighty neat. But, lord! my friend, this savage scene! For God's sake, come, and live with men: Consider, mice, like men, must die, Both small and great, both you and I: Then spend your life in joy and sport, (This doctrine, friend, I learn'd at court).' 180 The veriest hermit in the nation May yield, God knows, to strong temptation. Away they come, through thick and thin, To a tall house near Lincoln's Inn; ('Twas on the night of a debate, When all their lordships had sat late.) Behold the place where, if a poet Shined in description, he might show it; Tell how the moonbeam trembling falls, And tips with silver[169] all the walls; 190 Palladian walls, Venetian doors, Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors: But let it (in a word) be said, The moon was up, and men a-bed, The napkins white, the carpet red: The guests withdrawn had left the treat, And down the mice sat, _tête-à-tête_. Our courtier walks from dish to dish, Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish; Tells all their names, lays down the law, 200 '_Que ça est bon! Ah goutez ça!_ That jelly's rich, this malmsey healing, Pray, dip your whiskers and your tail in.' Was ever such a happy swain? He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again. 'I'm quite ashamed--'tis mighty rude To eat so much--but all's so good. I have a thousand thanks to give-- My lord alone knows how to live.' No sooner said, but from the hall 210 Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all: 'A rat! a rat! clap to the door'-- The cat comes bouncing on the floor. O for the heart of Homer's mice, Or gods to save them in a trice! (It was by Providence they think, For your damn'd stucco has no chink.) 'An't please your honour, quoth the peasant, This same dessert is not so pleasant: Give me again my hollow tree, 220 A crust of bread, and liberty!' * * * * * BOOK IV. ODE I. TO VENUS.