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The Scold And Parrot.
By John Gay
A husband said unto his wife:
"Who deals in slander deals in strife;
Are we the heralds of disgrace,
To thunder, love, at all our race -
And, indiscriminate in rage,
To spare nor friend nor sex nor age?
Your tongue, love, is a rolling flood
That thundering onwards stirs up mud,
And, like to fame and human woes,
Progressing, strengthens as it flows."
"My husband," so the tongue replies,
"So philosophic and so wise,
Am I to be - so wisdom ridden -
A parrot's privilege forbidden?
You praise his talk - smile at his squalling
Yet in your wife you deem it brawling:
Dear husband, must it still belong
To man to think his wife is wrong?
A lesson learnt from nature's school
Tells me to call a fool a fool."
But Nature disabused her words
By cat and monkey, dog and birds:
Puss spat and pug grinned at the scold,
The hound slunk off, the magpie told,
With repetitions, woman's rage;
Whilst poll, haranguing from her cage:
"Parrots for prattling words are prized;
Woman for prattling words despised.
She who attacks another's fame
Does but discredit her own name;
Upon her tongues malignant set,
And with good interest pay their debt."
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