A Weasel taken in a snare,
Thus pray'd the Man his life to spare:
"Consider, Sir, that but for me,
Your granaries full of mice would be!"
"Had you by love of me been mov'd,
My gratitude you might have prov'd;
But, robber, 'tis not for my sake,
But for yourself the pains you take;
Of petty thieves you make your prey,
And then devour much more than they!"
This said, in chains he hung the traitor,
In terror to each peculator.
Your likeness in this tale is shown,
In public good who seek your own;
And having gain'd your selfish end,
To be rewarded still pretend.
Source: Boothby - Phaedrus 1.21.
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