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."