An _Old Weazle_ and _Mice_.
An _Old Weazle_ that was now almost past Mousing, try’d what she could do
by her Wits, when she found she could live no longer upon the Square, and
so Conveys her self into a _Meal-Tub_ for the _Mice_ to come to _Her_,
since she could not go to _Them_. They came thick and threefold for a
time, as she expected they should, till at last, One Experienc’d Stager
that had Baffled Twenty Traps and Tricks Before, Discover’d the Plot, and
quite Spoyl’d the Jest.
The MORAL.
_The Want of Force, Strength, and other Abilities to Compass our Ends,
must be Supply’d by Industry and Invention._