A VINE was luxuriant in the time of vintage with leaves and grapes. A
Goat, passing by, nibbled its young tendrils and its leaves. The Vine
addressed him and said: “Why do you thus injure me without a cause, and
crop my leaves? Is there no young grass left? But I shall not have to
wait long for my just revenge; for if you now should crop my leaves,
and cut me down to my root, I shall provide the wine to pour over you
when you are led as a victim to the sacrifice.”