Fools from success perdition meet. An idle wretch about the street At Esop threw a stone in rage. “So much the better,” quoth the sage, And gives three farthings for the job; “I’ve no more money in my fob; But if you’ll follow my advice, More shall be levied in a trice.” It happen’d that the selfsame hour Came by a man of wealth and pow’r. “There, throw your pellet at my lord, And you shall have a sure reward!” The fellow did as he was told; But mark the downfall of the bold; His hopes are baulk’d, and, lo! he gains A rope and gibbet for his pains. V. THE FLY AND THE MULE. A Fly that sat upon the beam Rated the Mule: “Why, sure you dream? Pray get on faster with the cart Or I shall sting you till you smart!” She answers: “All this talk I hear With small attention, but must fear Him who upon the box sustains The pliant whip, and holds the reins. Cease then your pertness--for I know When to give back, and when to go.” This tale derides the talking crew, Whose empty threats are all they do. VI. THE DOG AND THE WOLF. I will, as briefly as I may, The sweets of liberty display. A Wolf half famish’d, chanced to see A Dog, as fat as dog could be: For one day meeting on the road, They mutual compliments bestowed: “Prithee,” says Isgrim, faint and weak, “How came you so well fed and sleek? I starve, though stronger of the two.” “It will be just as well with you,” The Dog quite cool and frank replied, “If with my master you’ll abide.” “For what?” “Why merely to attend, And from night thieves the door defend.” “I gladly will accept the post, What! shall I bear with snow and frost And all this rough inclement plight, Rather than have a home at night, And feed on plenty at my ease?” “Come, then, with me” --the Wolf agrees. But as they went the mark he found, Where the Dog’s collar had been bound: “What’s this, my friend?” “Why, nothing.” “Nay, Be more explicit, sir, I pray.” “I’m somewhat fierce and apt to bite, Therefore they hold me pretty tight, That in the day-time I may sleep, And night by night my vigils keep. At evening tide they let me out, And then I freely walk about: Bread comes without a care of mine. I from my master’s table dine; The servants throw me many a scrap, With choice of pot-liquor to lap; So, I’ve my bellyful, you find.” “But can you go where you’ve a mind?” “Not always, to be flat and plain.” “Then, Dog, enjoy your post again, For to remain this servile thing, Old Isgrim would not be a king.” VII. THE BROTHER AND SISTER.