A _Nightingale_ and a _Hawk_.
As a _Nightingale_ was Singing in a Bush, down comes a Rascally Kite of a
_Sparrow-Hawk_, and Whips her off the Bough: The Poor Wretch Pleaded for
her self, that alas! her Little Carcass was not worth the While, and that
there were Bigger Birds enough to be found. Well, says the _Hawk_, but
am I so Mad d’ye think, as to Part with a Little Bird that I have, for
a Great One that I have Not? Why then, says she, I’ll give ye a Delicate
Song for my Life: No, no, says the _Hawk_, I want for my Belly, nor for
my Ears.
The MORAL.
_A Bird in the Hand is Worth Two in the Bush._