A Fox, swimming across a river, was barely able to reach the bank, where he lay bruised and exhausted from his struggle with the swift current. But when he tried to rise again he found that he could not get away, for his claws were tangled in the wool. Long shadows came creeping over the ground. If that is the case, he said, cover up that stone. The Fox was well satisfied, but the Lion flew into a great rage over it, and with one stroke of his huge paw, he added the Ass to the pile of slain. Just then one of the swarm came home from the clover field with a load of sweets. I can feel that distinctly. Next day he was put into harness again and that evening he was very downhearted indeed. Have you no manners?, You should at least respect my age and leave me to sleep in quiet! My weapons will have to be ready for use then, or I shall suffer for it.
Bluff and threatening words are of little value with rascals.