A Blockheaded-Boy that was sent to Market with Butter and Cheese by the Good Old Woman his Mother, made a stop at a Quick River in the way, and laid himself down upon the Bank there, till it should run out. About Midnight, Home he goes to his Mother, with all his Market-Trade back again. Why how now Son, says She, what have we here to do! Why Mother, says this Booby, yonder's a Scurvy River that has been running all this day, and I staid till just now for the Running of it out, and there 'tis Running still. The Lord help thee Son, says the Good Woman, for thy Head and mine will be laid many a Fair Day before this River runs Dry.
We are not to Expect that Nature will Change her Course, to Gratified the Sickly Freak of every Fantastical Humour.