The Squabble (Third Edition) - 6
Thee and thy Dogs I’ll make to smart ’ere long.
This Gang were harmless browzing o’er the Lea,
Nor e’er annoy’d thy scabby Company;
When all the Troop in one unlucky hour
Thy grim-mouth’d cruel Mastiffs did devour.
THYRSIS.
Had t’other Herd of the same kind been there,
My Dogs had strew’d their members thro’ the air;
Remov’d each anxious Image from thy mind,
Devour’d thy Wolves, not left e’en one behind.
‘Twould be far better for each neighb’ring Swain
Had those been all thy Wolves my Dogs have slain.
Poor Innocents! from whom I oft have caught
Part of my helpless Lambs from out their throat;
And those thy motley Grook does still protect
Would fainly tear my Flock I much suspect.
CORIN.
Say not, O Thyrsis, they e’er touch’d thy Fold!
Some savage Whelps that neighb’ring Forests hold,
Beset thy mangy Flock, with manners rude,
(And gorg’d with hellish rage their reeking blood.)
Not one of all this Sable Herd is gone,
Excepting those thy Mastiffs seiz’d upon:
And Innocent are those that yet remain,
As eke were they whom thy curs’d Dogs have slain;
THYRSIS.
Corin, my polish’d Grook with thee I’ll lay
Those were your Wolves, that did three Lambkins slay
Of mine, besides three Ewes, and Ram also,
And yet you’d swear me out they’re not our Foe.
Here Thyrsis blusters and looks big.
