FABLE VIII. The LADY and the WASP. HAT whispers must the Beauty bear! WHAT What hourly nonfenfe haunts her ear! Did not the tender nonsense strike, But who can drive the num'rous breed? Who knows a fool, muft know his brother; One fop will recommend another: And with this plague fhe's rightly curft, As DORIS, at her toilette's duty, Sat meditating on her beauty, She now was penfive, now was gay, As As thus in indolence fhe lies, For by repulfe he bolder grew, Perch'd on her lip, and fipt the dew. She frowns, fhe frets. Good gods! fhe cries, Protect me from these teazing flies! Of all the plagues that heav'n hath fent, The hov'ring infect thus complain'd, Strike him not, JENNY, DORIS cries, In In ecftacies away he pofts; Where-e'er he came, the favour boasts; Brags how her fweeteft tea he fips, And fhews the fugar on his lips. The hint alarm'd the forward crew. They fhare the dainties of the day, That Wafps have ftings, and felt the wound. |