Some French,[190] where force is uppermost, will do. When at the fountain's head, as merit ought To claim the place, you take a swilling draught, How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw, And tax the sheep for troubling streams below; Or call her, when no farther cause you find, An enemy professed of all your kind! But, then, perhaps, the wicked world would think, The Wolf designed to eat as well as drink.-- This last allusion galled the Panther more, Because, indeed, it rubbed upon the sore; Yet seemed she not to wince, though shrewdly pained, But thus her passive character maintained. I never grudged, whate'er my foes report, Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court. You have your day, or you are much belied, But I am always on the suffering side; You know my doctrine, and I need not say, I will not, but I cannot disobey. Their malice too a sore suspicion brings, For, though they dare not bark, they snarl at kings. On this firm principle I ever stood; } He of my sons who fails to make it good, } By one rebellious act renounces to my blood.[191]} Ah, said the Hind, how many sons have you, Who call you mother, whom you never knew! But most of them, who that relation plead, Are such ungracious youths as wish you dead. They gape at rich revenues which you hold, And fain would nibble at your grandame gold; Enquire into your years, and laugh to find Your crazy temper shows you much declined. Were you not dim and doated, you might see} A pack of cheats that claim a pedigree, } No more of kin to you, than you to me. } Do you not know, that, for a little coin, Heralds can foist a name into the line? They ask you blessing but for what you have, } But, once possessed of what with care you save,} The wanton boys would piss upon your grave. } Your sons of latitude, that court your grace,} Though most resembling you in form and face, } Are far the worst of your pretended race; } And, but I blush your honesty to blot, Pray God you prove them lawfully begot! For, in some Popish libels I have read, The Wolf has been too busy in your bed;[192] At least their hinder parts, the belly-piece, The paunch, and all that Scorpio claims,[193] are his. Nor blame them for intruding in your line; Fat bishoprics are still of right divine. Think you, your new French proselytes are come, To starve abroad, because they starved at home? Your benefices twinkled from afar, They found the new Messiah by the star; Those Swisses fight on any side for pay, And 'tis the living that conforms, not they. Mark with what management their tribes divide; } Some stick to you, and some to t'other side, } That many churches may for many mouths provide.[194]}