A FOWLER, taking his bird-lime and his twigs1, went out to catch
birds. Seeing a thrush sitting upon a tree, he wished to take
it, and fitting his twigs to a proper length, watched intently,
having his whole thoughts directed towards the sky. While thus
looking upwards2, he unknowingly trod upon a Viper3 asleep just
before his feet. The Viper, turning about, stung him, and
falling into a swoon, the man said to himself, Woe4 is me! that
while I purposed to hunt another, I am myself fallen unawares
into the snares5 of death.
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