A FLY sat on the axle-tree of a chariot, and addressing the Draught-Mule said, “How slow you are! —
Why do you not go faster? —
See if I do not prick your neck with my sting. —
” The Draught-Mule replied, “I do not heed your threats; —
I only care for him who sits above you, and who quickens my pace with his whip, or holds me back with the reins. —
Away, therefore, with your insolence, for I know well when to go fast, and when to go slow.”