While a hawk was sitting in a nightingale's nest, on the watch for a hare, he found there some young ones. The mother, alarmed at the danger of her offspring, flew up, and suppliantly entreated him to spare her young ones. "I will do what you wish," He replied, "If you will sing me a tuneful song with a clear voice." On this, much as her heart failed her, still, through fear, she obeyed, and being compelled, full of grief she sang. The hawk, who had seized the prey, then said: "You have not sung your best;" And, seizing one of the young ones with his claws, began to devour it. A fowler approaches from another direction, and stealthily extending his reed, touches the perfidious creature with bird-lime, and drags him to the ground. 
Whoever lays crafty stratagems for others, ought to beware that he himself be not entrapped by cunning. 