A VINE was luxuriant in the time of vintage with leaves and
grapes. A Goat, passing by, nibbled1 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."
