A Lion had grown very old. At last, worn out with rage and covered with wounds that his own teeth and claws had made, the Lion gave up the fight. One of them had a very kind and gracious look, but the other was the most fearful monster you can imagine. At least they wished to find some way of knowing when she was coming, so they might have time to run away. Now the black Jackdaw was not a very handsome bird, nor very refined in manner. The poor Oxen, pulling with all their might to draw the wagon through the deep mud, had their ears filled with the loud complaining of the Wheels. said a Mother Crab to her son. They hardly dared blink for fear of losing him out of their sight a single instant. Even a contemptible Ass let fly his heels and brayed his insults in the face of the Lion.
In quarreling about the shadow we often lose the substance.