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I dare not hope to please a Cinna's ear. Or sing what Varus might vouchsafe to hear; Harsh are the sweetest lays that I can bring, So screams a goose where swans melodious sing.

Shall I, like Curtius, desperate in my zeal, O'er head and ears plunge for the common weal? Or rob Rome's ancient geese of all their glories, And cackling save the monarchies of Tories?

When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky; So at his sight away his fellows fly, And at our stamp here o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries and help from Athens calls.

What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.