FABLE
[
42
]
XLII.
The
Jugglers
.
A
Juggler
long
through
all
the
town
Had
rais'd
his
fortune
and
renown
;
You'd
think
(
so
far
his
art
transcends
)
The
devil
at
his
finger's
ends
.
Vice
heard
his
fame
,
she
read
his
bill
;
Convinc'd
of
his
inferior
skill
,
She
sought
his
booth
,
and
from
the
croud
Defy'd
the
man
of
art
aloud
.
Is
this
then
he
so
fam'd
for
slight
,
Can
this
slow
bungler
cheat
your
sight
,
Dares
he
with
me
dispute
the
prize
?
I
leave
it
to
impartial
eyes
.
Provok'd
,
the
Juggler
cry'd
,
'tis
done
.
In
science
I
submit
to
none
.
Thus
said
.
The
cups
and
balls
he
play'd
;
By
turns
,
this
here
,
that
there
,
convey'd
:
The
cards
,
obedient
to
his
words
,
Are
by
a
fillip
turn'd
to
birds
;
His
little
boxes
change
the
grain
,
Trick
after
trick
deludes
the
train
.
He
shakes
his
bag
,
he
shows
all
fair
,
His
fingers
spread
,
and
nothing
there
,
Then
bids
it
rain
with
showers
of
gold
,
And
now
his
iv'ry
eggs
are
told
,
But
when
from
thence
the
hen
he
draws
,
Amaz'd
spectators
humm
applause
.
Vice
now
stept
forth
and
took
the
place
,
With
all
the
forms
of
his
grimace
.
This
magick
looking-glass
,
she
cries
,
(
There
,
hand
it
round
)
will
charm
your
eyes
:
Each
eager
eye
the
sight
desir'd
,
And
ev'ry
man
himself
admir'd
.
Next
,
to
a
senator
addressing
;
See
this
Bank-note
;
observe
the
blessing
:
Breathe
on
the
bill
.
Heigh
,
pass
!
'Tis
gone
.
Upon
his
lips
a
padlock
shone
.
A
second
puff
the
magick
broke
,
The
padlock
vanish'd
,
and
he
spoke
.
Twelve
bottles
rang'd
upon
the
board
,
All
full
,
with
heady
liquor
stor'd
,
By
clean
conveyance
disappear
,
And
now
two
bloody
swords
are
there
.
A
purse
she
to
a
thief
expos'd
;
At
once
his
ready
fingers
clos'd
:
He
opes
his
fist
,
the
treasure's
fled
,
He
sees
a
halter
in
its
stead
.
She
bids
Ambition
hold
a
wand
,
He
grasps
a
hatchet
in
his
hand
.
A
box
of
charity
she
shows
:
Blow
here
;
and
a
church-warden
blows
,
'Tis
vanish'd
with
conveyance
neat
,
And
on
the
table
smoaks
a
treat
.
She
shakes
the
dice
,
the
board
she
knocks
,
And
from
all
pockets
fills
her
box
.
She
next
a
meagre
rake
addrest
;
This
picture
see
;
her
shape
,
her
breast
!
What
youth
,
and
what
inviting
eyes
!
Hold
her
,
and
have
her
.
With
surprise
,
His
hand
expos'd
a
box
of
pills
;
And
a
loud
laugh
proclaim'd
his
ills
.
A
counter
,
in
a
miser's
hand
,
Grew
twenty
guineas
at
command
;
She
bids
his
heir
the
summ
retain
,
And
'tis
a
counter
now
again
.
A
guinea
with
her
touch
you
see
Take
ev'ry
shape
but
Charity
;
And
not
one
thing
,
you
saw
,
or
drew
,
But
chang'd
from
what
was
first
in
view
.
The
Juggler
now
,
in
grief
of
heart
,
With
this
submission
own'd
her
art
.
Can
I
such
matchless
slight
withstand
?
How
practice
hath
improv'd
your
hand
!
But
now
and
then
I
cheat
the
throng
;
You
ev'ry
day
,
and
all
day
long
.