FABLE [16] XVI. The Pin and the Needle. John Gay Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T13818 Gay, John, 1685-1732. FABLES. By Mr. GAY. London Printed for J. Tonson and J. Watts, MDCCXXVII. 1727 pp. 53-55. [14],173,[1]p.: ill.; 4°.

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FABLE [ 16 ] XVI . The Pin and the Needle . A Pin who long had serv'd a Beauty , Proficient in the toilette's duty , Had form'd her sleeve , confin'd her hair , Or giv'n her knot a smarter air , Now nearest to her heart was plac'd , Now in her manteau's tail disgrac'd ; But could she partial fortune blame , Who saw her lovers serv'd the same ? At length from all her honours cast , Through various turns of life she past ; Now glitter'd on a taylor's arm , Now kept a beggar's infant warm , Now , rang'd within a miser's coat , Contributes to his yearly groat , Now , rais'd again from low approach , She visits in the doctor's coach ; Here , there , by various fortune tost , At last in Gresham hall was lost . Charm'd with the wonders of the show , On ev'ry side , above , below , She now of this or that enquires , What least was understood admires ; 'Tis plain , each thing so struck her mind , Her head's of virtuoso kind . And pray what's this and this , dear sir ? A needle , says th' interpreter . She knew the name . And thus the fool Addrest her as a taylor's tool . A needle with that filthy stone , Quite idle , all with rust o'ergrown ! You better might employ your parts , And aid the sempstress in her arts . But tell me how the friendship grew Between that paultry flint and you ? Friend , says the Needle , cease to blame ; I follow real worth and fame . Know'st thou the loadstone's power and art , That virtue virtues can impart ? Of all his talents I partake . Who then can such a friend forsake ? 'Tis I direct the pilot's hand To shun the rocks and treach'rous sand ; By me the distant world is known , And either India is our own . Had I with milliners been bred , What had I been ? the guide of thread , And drudg'd as vulgar needles do , Of no more consequence than you .