Truth at Court

Now fye upon't, quoth Flattery, These are bad times indeed for me; Spurn'd by the man, and in the place Where least I thought to meet disgrace: And yet I said the finest things, " Thou young, but righteous, best of kings, " Thou, who"—abrupt he turn'd away, And with an air, as who should say, " Go, show that gentleman the door, " And never let me see him more." Shock'd I withdrew—when, to enhance My shame, I straightway saw advance, And take my very place, forsooth, A strange old-fashion'd fellow, Truth. O! how it griev'd my heart to see The difference made 'twixt him and me! I of each sanguine hope bereav'd, He with a gracious smile receiv'd: And yet—(or greatly I mistake) The monarch blush'd when-e'er he spake; For he, tho' in a plainer way, Said every-thing I meant to say.