Ay, there he is keeping them at bay, and
scorning to yield an inch backward; and now the keeper steals in behind
him and lets him down by ham-stringing him: but when he found his
favourite dog back-broken by the buck, why he cursed the deer, and
begged our pardon for swearing; and now he cuts a slashing gash from
shoulder to chop to let out the blood; and there lay they, dead, in
silvan beauty, like two angels which might have been resting on the
pole, and spirit-stricken into ice before they had power to flee away.
But we must away to Sir Reynard's hall, and unsough him; this we can
do with less sorrowful feelings than killing a deer, which indeed,
is like taking the life of a brother or a sister; but as to a fox,
there is an old clow-jewdaism about him, that makes me feel like
passing Petticoat-lane or Monmouth-street, or that sink of iniquity,
Holy-well-street. O, the cunning, side-walking, side-long-glancing,
corner-peeping, hang-dog-looking, stolen-goods-receiving knave;
"Christian dog" can hold no sympathy with thee, so have at thee.
Ah, here is his hold, a perfect Waterloo of bones.
Pages:
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27