The Fables of Phædrus
A Fly sat on the pole of a chariot, and rebuking the Mule: “How slow you are,” said she; “will you not go faster? Take care that I don’t prick your neck with my sting.” The Mule made answer: “I am not moved by your words, but I fear him who, sitting on the next seat, guides my yoke with his pliant whip, and governs my mouth with the foam-covered reins. Therefore, cease your frivolous impertinence, for I well know when to go at a gentle pace, and when to run.”
In this Fable, he may be deservedly ridiculed, who, without any strength, gives utterance to vain threats.
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