THE
THREE
WARNINGS
:
A
TALE
.
BY
MRS.
THRALE
.
THE
tree
of
deepest
root
is
found
Least
willing
still
to
quit
the
ground
;
'Twas
therefore
said
by
antient
sages
,
That
love
of
life
increas'd
with
years
So
much
,
that
in
our
latter
stages
,
When
pains
grow
sharp
,
and
sickness
rages
,
The
greatest
love
of
life
appears
.
This
great
affection
to
believe
,
Which
all
confess
,
but
few
perceive
,
If
old
assertions
can't
prevail
,
Be
pleas'd
to
hear
a
modern
tale
.
When
sports
went
round
,
and
all
were
gay
On
neighbour
Dobson's
wedding-day
,
Death
call'd
aside
the
jocund
groom
With
him
into
another
room
:
And
looking
grave
,
"
You
must
,
says
he
,
"
Quit
your
sweet
bride
,
and
come
with
me
.
"
"
With
you
,
and
quit
my
Susan's
side
!
"
With
you
!
the
hapless
husband
cry'd
:
"
Young
as
I
am
!
'tis
monstrous
hard
!
"
Besides
,
in
truth
,
I'm
not
prepar'd
:
"
My
thoughts
on
other
matters
go
,
"
This
is
my
wedding-night
,
you
know
.
"
What
more
he
urg'd
I
have
not
heard
,
His
reasons
could
not
well
be
stronger
;
So
Death
the
poor
delinquent
spar'd
,
And
left
to
live
a
little
longer
.
Yet
calling
up
a
serious
look
,
His
hour-glass
trembled
while
he
spoke
,
"
Neighbour
,
he
said
,
farewell
:
No
more
"
Shall
Death
disturb
your
mirthful
hour
;
"
And
further
,
to
avoid
all
blame
"
Of
cruelty
upon
my
name
,
"
To
give
you
time
for
preparation
,
"
And
fit
you
for
your
future
station
,
"
Three
several
Warnings
you
shall
have
,
"
Before
you're
summon'd
to
the
grave
:
"
Willing
for
once
I'll
quit
my
prey
,
"
And
grant
a
kind
reprieve
;
"
In
hopes
you'll
have
no
more
to
say
,
"
But
when
I
call
again
this
way
,
"
Well-pleas'd
the
world
will
leave
.
"
To
these
conditions
both
consented
,
And
parted
perfectly
contented
.
What
next
the
hero
of
our
tale
befell
,
How
long
he
liv'd
,
how
wise
,
how
well
,
How
roundly
he
pursu'd
his
course
,
And
smok'd
his
pipe
,
and
strok'd
his
horse
,
The
willing
Muse
shall
tell
:
He
chaffer'd
then
,
he
bought
,
he
sold
,
Nor
once
perceiv'd
his
growing
old
,
Nor
thought
of
Death
as
near
;
His
friends
not
false
,
his
wife
no
shrew
,
Many
his
gains
,
his
children
few
,
He
pass'd
his
hours
in
peace
;
But
while
he
view'd
his
wealth
increase
,
While
thus
along
Life's
dusty
road
The
beaten
track
content
he
trod
,
Old
Time
,
whose
haste
no
mortal
spares
,
Uncall'd
,
unheeded
,
unawares
,
Brought
on
his
eightieth
year
.
And
now
one
night
in
musing
mood
,
As
all
alone
he
sate
,
Th'
unwelcome
messenger
of
Fate
Once
more
before
him
stood
.
Half
kill'd
with
anger
and
surprize
,
"
So
soon
return'd
!
old
Dobson
cries
.
"
"
So
soon
,
d'ye
call
it
!
Death
replies
:
"
Surely
,
my
friend
,
you're
but
in
jest
.
"
Since
I
was
here
before
,
"
'Tis
six-and-thirty
years
at
least
,
"
And
you
are
now
fourscore
.
"
"
So
much
the
worse
,
the
Clown
rejoin'd
:
"
To
spare
the
aged
would
be
kind
:
"
However
,
see
your
search
be
legal
;
"
And
your
authority
—
Is't
regal
?
"
Else
you
are
come
on
a
fool's
errand
,
"
With
but
a
ecretary's
warrant
.
"
Besides
,
you
promis'd
me
Three
Warnings
,
"
Which
I
have
look'd
for
nights
and
mornings
.
"
But
for
that
loss
of
time
and
ease
,
"
I
can
recover
damages
.
"
"
I
know
,
cries
Death
,
that
at
the
best
,
"
I
seldom
am
a
welcome
guest
;
"
But
don't
be
captious
,
friend
,
at
least
;
"
I
little
thought
you'd
still
be
able
"
To
stump
about
your
farm
and
stable
;
"
Your
years
have
run
to
a
great
length
,
"
I
wish
you
joy
tho'
of
your
strength
.
"
"
Hold
,
says
the
Farmer
,
not
so
fast
,
"
I
have
been
lame
these
four
years
past
.
"
"
And
no
great
wonder
,
Death
replies
,
"
However
,
you
still
keep
your
eyes
;
"
And
sure
to
see
one's
loves
and
friends
,
"
For
legs
and
arms
would
make
amends
.
"
"
Perhaps
,
says
Dobson
,
so
it
might
,
"
But
latterly
I've
lost
my
sight
.
"
"
This
is
a
shocking
story
,
faith
,
"
Yet
there's
some
comfort
still
,
says
Death
;
"
Each
strives
your
sadness
to
amuse
;
"
I
warrant
you
hear
all
the
news
.
"
"
There's
none
,
cries
he
;
and
if
there
were
,
"
I'm
grown
so
deaf
I
could
not
hear
.
"
"
Nay
then
,
the
spectre
stern
rejoin'd
,
"
These
are
unjustifiable
yearnings
;
"
If
you
are
lame
,
and
deaf
,
and
blind
,
"
You've
had
your
three
sufficient
Warnings
.
"
So
come
along
,
no
more
we'll
part
:
"
He
said
,
and
touch'd
him
with
his
dart
;
And
now
old
Dobson
turning
pale
,
Yields
to
his
fate
—
so
ends
my
tale
.