A CERTAIN poor widow had one solitary1 Sheep. At shearing3 time,
wishing to take his fleece and to avoid expense, she sheared4 him
herself, but used the shears5 so unskillfully that with the fleece
she sheared the flesh. The Sheep, writhing6 with pain, said, "Why
do you hurt me so, Mistress? What weight can my blood add to the
wool? If you want my flesh, there is the butcher, who will kill
me in an instant; but if you want my fleece and wool, there is
the shearer7, who will shear2 and not hurt me."
The least outlay8 is not always the greatest gain.
