There was a time when a Fox would have ventured as far for a Bunch of
Grapes as for a shoulder of mutton, and it was a Fox of those days and
that palate that stood gaping under a vine and licking his lips at a
most delicious Cluster of Grapes that he had spied out there.
He fetched a hundred and a hundred leaps at it, till, at last, when he
was as weary as a dog, and found that there was no good to be done:
"Hang 'em," says he, "they are as sour as crabs"; and so away he went,
turning off the disappointment with a jest.