Fable VI. the Spider and the Fly

With malice fell A spider watch'd within his cell, Ready to sally, The unwary traveller to souse, Like a Jew-broker in the Alley, Or a Dutch merchant in his counting-house, Like them he corresponded far and near, And tho' his trade was intricate and dark, He manag'd his affairs, and kept all clear, Without a partner or a clerk. A petit maitre, an active bustling fly, Thinking to scamper unmolested, With airy equipage as he pass'd by, By cruel Cacus was arrested. Furnish'd with that undaunted sense, Which only courts and camps can teach, Having no weapon or defence, Except his instrument of speech, The fly, with flattering soporific strains, Tried to benumb the spider's brains: Hearing such daily praise bestow'd, Upon your elegance in weaving, I came to visit your abode, Which is magnificent beyond believing: And now I am convinc'd, if you will drop The linen trade, And take to weaving velvets and brocade, The sallad-eaters soon must shut up shop, Change but your diet, and, like their's, your taste Will grow refin'd, correct and chaste. As I have studied every herb and leaf, That's either noxious or good to eat, Make me your caterer in chief, And pourveyor of all your meat. Send me this instant, in a trice I'll bring you something savoury and nice. Seeing the spider smile and grin, He found his plot would not succeed, It was too thin, For one of that sagacious breed, On which he fell a vapouring and buzzing, Swearing the drones would take the alarm, And come to the assistance of their cousin With an enormous swarm. The drones and I are no such strangers, We know, said Cacus, what we both can do, They are too wise to run their heads in dangers, For such a busy meddling fool as you: But, since you come to spoil our manufacture, And poison honest traders, I'll hang you like a malefactor, To terrify invaders. No sooner said than done, He knock'd him down, and hung him in the sun. The spider's a negotiator, And an ensnaring captious debater, Obdurate, subtile and alert, The fly a coxcomb and a prater, Teazing and pert. Tho' all such characters I hate, And from my soul despise, May we have many spiders in the state, When we are plagued with French and Spanish flies.