whom his enemy had slain and devoured. However, he at length valiantly resolved to issue forth and meet his fate. Meanwhile the bee had acquitted himself of his toils, and posted securely at some distance, was employed in cleansing his wings and disengaging them from the ragged remnants of the cobweb. By this time the spider was adventured out; when beholding the chasms, and ruins, and dilapidations, of his fortress, he was very near at his wit's end; he stormed and swore like a madman, and swelled till he was ready to burst. At length, casting his eye upon the bee, and wisely gathering causes from events (for they knew each other by sight), "A plague split you," said he, "for a giddy son of a whore! Is it you, with a vengeance, that have made this litter here? Could not you look before you and be d———n'd? Do you think I have nothing else to do (in the devil's name) but to mend and repair after your arse?" "Good words, friend," said the bee, having now pruned himself, and being disposed to droll, "I'll give you my hand and word to come near your kennel no more. I was never in such a confounded pickle since I was born." "Sirrah!" replied the spider, "if it were not for breaking
