"True friendship, sir, is an affair
Of seven words, the wise declare;
I've forced you, then, to be a friend—
So hear my pleading to the end.
Now grant me your friendship. If you refuse, I shall starve where I stand."
And Gold reflected: "He is not unintelligent. His speech proves it.
None lacking shrewdness flatter well;
None but a lover plays the swell;
No saints are found in judgment seats;
No clear, straightforward speaker cheats.
So I must certainly grant him my friendship."
Having made up his mind to this, he said to the crow: "My dear sir, you have won my confidence. But it was necessary first to test your intelligence. Now I lay my head in your lap." With this he started to come forth, but when scarcely halfway out, he stopped again. And Swift said: "Do you cherish even yet some reason for mistrusting me? I see you do not leave your fortress."
"I have no fear of you," said Gold, "for I have examined your mind. But if I gave my confidence, I might perhaps meet death through other friends of yours." Then the crow spoke:
Friends purchased at the price of death
To other friends and true,
One should avoid, like worthless corn
Where finest rice-plants grew.
