The much offended Sow replies,
(And turns a-squint her narrow Eyes)
'Sir, you're incorrigibly vain,
'To value thus a shining Train;
'For when the northern Wind shall blow,
'And send us Hail, and Sleet, and Snow;
'How will you save from such keen Weathers
'Your Merit? — Sir, I mean your Feathers:
'As for myself: — to think that I
'Shou'd lead an Idiot to my Sty,
'Or strive to make an Oaf my Friend,
'It makes my Bristles stand an end:
'But for the future when I see
'A Bird that much resembles thee,
'I'll ever take it as a Rule,
'The shining Case contains a Fool.