A _Fox_ and a _Bramble_.
A _Fox_ that was close Pursu’d, took a Hedge. The Bushes gave way, and in
Catching hold of a _Bramble_ to break his Fall, the Prickles ran into his
Feet. Upon This, He laid himself down, and fell to Licking his Paws, with
Bitter Exclamations against the _Bramble_. Good Words, _Reynard_, says
the _Bramble_, One would have thought you had known Better Things, than
to Expect a Kindness from a Common Enemy, and to lay hold on That for
Relief, that Catches at Every Thing else for Mischief.
The MORAL.
_There are some Malicious Natures that Place all their Delight in doing
Ill Turns, and That Man is hard put to’t, that is first brought into a
Distress, and then forc’d to Fly to such People for Relief._