A _Fox_ Praising _Hares Flesh_.
As a _Dog_ was Pressing hard upon the very Breech of a _Fox_, Up starts
a _Hare_. Pray hold a Little, says the _Fox_, and take That _Hare_ there
while she is to be had: You never Tasted such a Morsel since you were
Born; But I am all over Tainted and Rotten, and a Mouthful of My Flesh
would be enough to Poyson ye. The _Dog_ immediately left the _Fox_; and
took a Course at the _Hare_; but she was too Nimble for him, it seems,
and when he saw he could not Catch her, he very Discreetly let her go.
The _Hare_ had heard what pass’d; and Meeting the _Fox_ Two or Three
Days after, she told him how Basely he had serv’d her. Nay, says the
_Fox_, if you take it so Heavily that I spoke so well of ye, what would
you have done if I had spoken Ill?
The MORAL.
_A Designing Back-Friend is the Worst of Enemies._