experience our sportive cruelty.

Hast thou not observed, the charming gradations by which the ensnared
volatile has been brought to bear with its new condition? how, at first,
refusing all sustenance, it beats and bruises itself against its wires,
till it makes its gay plumage fly about, and over-spread its well-secured
cage. Now it gets out its head; sticking only at its beautiful
shoulders: then, with difficulty, drawing back its head, it gasps for
breath, and erectly perched, with meditating eyes, first surveys, and
then attempts, its wired canopy. As it gets its pretty head and sides,
bites the wires, and pecks at the fingers of its delighted tamer. Till
at last, finding its efforts ineffectual, quite tired and breathless, it
lays itself down, and pants at the bottom of the cage, seeming to bemoan
its cruel fate and forfeited liberty. And after a few days, its
struggles to escape still diminishing as it finds it to no purpose to
attempt it, its new habitation becomes familiar; and it hops about from
perch to perch, resumes its wonted cheerfulness, and every day sings a
song to amuse itself and reward its keeper.

Now le me tell thee, that I have known a bird actually starve itself, and
die with grief, at its being caught and caged. But never did I meet with
a woman who was so silly.--Yet have I heard the dear souls most
vehemently threaten their own lives on such an occasion. But it is
saying nothing in a woman's favour, if we do not allow her to have more
sense than a bird. And yet we must all own, that it is more difficult to
catch a bird than a lady.

To pursue the comparison--If the disappointment of the captivated lady be
very great, she will threaten, indeed, as I said: she will even refuse
her sustenance for some time, especially if you entreat her much, and she
thinks she gives you concern by her refusal. But then the stomach of the
dear sullen one will soon return. 'Tis pretty to see how she comes to by
degrees: pressed by appetite, she will first steal, perhaps, a weeping
morsel by herself; then be brought to piddle and sigh, and sigh and
piddle before you; now-and-then, if her viands be unsavoury, swallowing
with them a relishing tear or two: then she comes to eat and drink, to
oblige you: then resolves to live for your sake: her exclamations will,
in the next place, be turned into blandishments; her vehement upbraidings
into gentle murmuring--how dare you, traitor!--into how could you,
deare