The Woodcleaver and Mercury.

In Ancient times, when Jupiter Was pretty free, a Labourer, That earn'd his Bread with cleaving Wood, Lost with his Ax his Livelyhood. 'T would grieve ones Heart to hear what sad And pitious moan the Fellow made: He had no Tools to sell again, And buy another Ax, poor Man! It was his All, and what to do, Or how to live he does not know, And as the Tears stood in his Eyes, My Ax! O my dear Ax! he cries: Sweet loving Jupiter! restore My Ax. Olympus hear his roar; And Mercury the Post-Boy, or The Flying Post (his Character Suits either for he's God of Lying Beardless, and fam'd for News and Flying.) Came to the Labourer, and said, Your Ax in't lost, cheer up, my Lad: I've got it here; but can you tell Which is your own? I very well, Quoth he. Says Mercury take hold, And gives him one of Massy Gold; To this, quoth th' other, I've no claim; To a Silver one he said the same. But when his Iron one was shewn, He cries, I Faix this is mine own; God bless you, Sir. And Mercury } Said, to reward his Honesty, } Th' are all your own, I give 'em ye. } The Story's quickly nois'd about; The way to Riches is found out: 'Tis but to lose one's Ax; the Fools, That had none, sold their Cloaths and Tools To get one; and whate'er they cost, They're bought in order to be lost. The God of Thieves and Merchants, who By chance had nothing else to do, Came as they call'd; his Deity Gave every one the choice of three: The lying Rogues deny'd their own, And swore they lost a Golden one: But as they stoop for't, Mercury Chops off their Heads, and there they lie.

The Moral. The Fable shews you, Honesty Is always the best Policy.