511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,000[' ]| 511:01,001[' ]| One Day, as is his Wont, the Dean 511:01,002[' ]| Was sauntering through a dirty Lane, 511:01,003[' ]| And snugly laughing in$4$ his Sleeve 511:01,004[' ]| At what would graver Mortals grieve, 511:01,005[' ]| The Crowds of Fools, both Low, and High, 511:01,006[' ]| Passing in$4$ idle Hurry, by$5$, 511:01,007[' ]| Mercury, it is said to$9$ aid his Laughter, 511:01,008[' ]| Followed some little Distance after, 511:01,009[' ]| Not in$4$ the Shape he wears above, 511:01,010[' ]| Or brings down Messages from Jove, 511:01,011[' ]| But in$4$ a Form, true Politics, 511:01,012[' ]| Will$1$ own much fitter for$4$ those Tricks 511:01,013[' ]| Of Theft, the God did whilome use; 511:01,014[' ]| A Black-guard Crier of the News. 511:01,015[' ]| What Conversation passed between 511:01,016[' ]| This merry Pair in$4$ such a Scene, 511:01,017[' ]| What waggish Jokes, and sly Remarks 511:01,018[' ]| Between the Damsels and their Sparks, 511:01,019[' ]| The Muse at present hath forgot; 511:01,020[' ]| Nor is it essential to$4$ her Plot: 511:01,021[' ]| But sure, it would form of Mirth a Tale 511:01,022[' ]| Might Pope, and all his Friends regale. 511:01,023[' ]| Not He, nor They would blush to$9$ sit, 511:01,024[' ]| And shake at such strange Turns of Wit. 511:01,025[' ]| Scarce had they half a Street trudged through, 511:01,026[' ]| Before Momus met them full in$4$ View; 511:01,027[' ]| A Fellow said to$9$ be a God, 511:01,028[' ]| But of a Temper somewhat odd, 511:01,029[' ]| Addicted much to$4$ Jeers, and Gibes; 511:01,030[' ]| Eternal Foe to$4$ tender Kybes; 511:01,031[' ]| And, with but slender Skill in$4$ Letters, 511:01,032[' ]| Was always carping at his Betters. 511:01,033[' ]| But Gods themselves, whatever Wonders 511:01,034[' ]| We Mortals think them, can make Blunders. 511:01,035[' ]| To$9$ put which$6#1$ Doctrine past all Doubt, 511:01,036[' ]| Momus himself shall make it out. 511:01,037[' ]| For$3$ though he critically eyed 511:01,038[' ]| Our Drapier's human Shape and Hide, 511:01,039[' ]| Yet, it is prodigious to$9$ relate 511:01,040[' ]| What a strange Maggot seized his Pate, 511:01,041[B ]| "An old Acquaintance this," 511:01,041[' ]| he cries, 511:01,042[B ]| "Faith, it is Apollo in$4$ Disguise, 511:01,043[B ]| What need of further Proof? Depend on$4$ it, 511:01,044[B ]| It is the Rascal, by$4$ his Attendant." 511:01,045[' ]| Then instantly resolved to$9$ roast him, 511:01,046[' ]| Thus, with a Sneer, he did accost him. 511:01,047[B ]| "Your Godship's Servant! So$3$, I find 511:01,048[B ]| You have got some Daphne in$4$ the Wind. 511:01,049[B ]| Why else in$4$ such a scurvy Place; 511:01,050[B ]| Disguised too in$4$ that$6#2$ Garb of Grace; 511:01,051[B ]| And with your Scoundrel Pimp equipped, 511:01,052[B ]| So$5#1$ well deserving to$9$ be whipped, 511:01,053[B ]| What! will$1$ a God of Wit and Learning 511:01,054[B ]| Forever thus be deaf to$4$ Warning? 511:01,055[B ]| Can no$2$ Misfortunes in$4$ Amours 511:01,056[B ]| Suffice to$9$ put an End to$4$ yours? 511:01,057[B ]| Perhaps, you think, you are Woman-proof, 511:01,058[B ]| And always will$1$ come safely off; 511:01,059[B ]| Or hope to$9$ be no$2$ worse affronted, 511:01,060[B ]| Than when you after Daphne hunted, 511:01,061[B ]| Where Fortune, to$9$ prevent a Quarrel, 511:01,062[B ]| Your Misadventure crowned with Laurel, 511:01,063[B ]| But let me tell you as a Friend, 511:01,064[B ]| (Indeed it is seldom known to$9$ mend) 511:01,065[B ]| This lower World is strangely changed, 511:01,066[B ]| Since with Admetus' Sheep you ranged, 511:01,067[B ]| For$3$ should you now a Nymph pursue, 511:01,068[B ]| Instead of turning into Yew, 511:01,069[B ]| Or Birch, or Bays, it is, by$4$ my Soul, as 511:01,070[B ]| Likely, she might become a Bolus. 511:01,071[B ]| Then think, how would the Gods endure 511:01,072[B ]| To$9$ see you spawl their azure Floor? 511:01,073[B ]| And must you not at once sustain 511:01,074[B ]| The bitterest Pangs of Rage and Pain, 511:01,075[B ]| When every giggling Girl above 511:01,076[B ]| Shall smirk, and tip the Wink on$4$ Jove, 511:01,077[B ]| To$9$ smoke your Honour sadly chewing, 511:01,078[B ]| The filthy Rags of Caterwauling?" 511:01,079[' ]| The Dean looked gruff, and passed him by$5$; 511:01,080[' ]| Leaving his Lackey to$9$ reply. 511:01,081[C ]| "For$4$ once, Friend Momus, fairly bit; 511:01,082[C ]| No$2$ longer now pretend to$4$ Wit. 511:01,083[C ]| He, whom you see, and make your Jest, 511:01,084[C ]| No$2$ God is, but a mortal Priest. 511:01,085[C ]| And even a Priest of such a Make 511:01,086[C ]| As scarce excuses the Mistake; 511:01,087[C ]| The God you fancied him to$9$ be, 511:01,088[C ]| It is true, hath not more Wit than He; 511:01,089[C ]| But herein still a Difference lies, 511:01,090[C ]| Your God was once kicked from the Skies; 511:01,091[C ]| And by$4$ the righteous Laws of Fate 511:01,092[C ]| Was doomed to$9$ fall from God's Estate. 511:01,093[C ]| But he, whom proud I call my Master 511:01,094[C ]| Is subject to$4$ no$2$ such Disaster. 511:01,095[C ]| These Volumes in$4$ my Hand behold! 511:01,096[C ]| (In$4$ Faulkner's Shop they are to$9$ be sold) 511:01,097[C ]| These shall to$4$ future Ages tell, 511:01,098[C ]| The Drapier never sunk, or fell."