making all lines true to rule. For in building
up this speech I shall not bring stones from my own quarry, hewn
foursquare and planed on all sides with their outer edge cut smooth
and level, so that the nail slips lightly over it. No! at every point
I must fit in material that is rough and uneven, or slippery and
smooth, or jagged, projecting and angular, or round and rolling. There
will be no correction by rule, no measure or proportion, no attention
to the perpendicular. For it is impossible to produce a thing on the
spur of the moment and to give it careful consideration, nor is there
anything in the world that can hope at one and the same time to be
praised for its care and admired for its speed.

_The fable of the fox and the crow._

25. I have complied with the desire of certain persons who just now
begged me to speak extempore. But, by Hercules, I fear that I may
suffer the fate that befell the crow in Aesop's fable: namely, that in
the attempt to win this new species of glory I may lose the little I
have already acquired. What is this parable, you ask me? I will gladly
turn fabulist for awhile. A crow and a fox caught sight of a morsel of
food at the same moment and hurried to seize it. Their greed was
equal, but their speed was not. Reynard ran, but the crow flew, with
the result that the bird was too quick for the quadruped, sailed down
the wind on extended pinions, outstripped and forestalled him. Then,
rejoicing at his victory in the race for the booty, the crow flew into
a neighbouring oak and sat out of reach on the topmost bough. The fox
being unable to hurl a stone, launched a trick at him and reached him.
For coming up to the foot of the tree, he stopped there, and seeing
the robber high above him exulting in his booty, began to praise him
with cunning words. 'Fool that I was thus vainly to contend with
Apollo's bird! For his body is exquisitely proportioned, neither
exceeding small nor yet too large, but just of the size demanded by
use and beauty; his plumage is soft, his head sharp and fine, his beak
strong. Nay, more, he has wings with which to follow, keen eyes with
which to see, and claws with which to seize his prey. As for his
colour, what can I say? There are two transcendent hues, the blackness
of pitch and the whiteness of snow, the colours that distinguish night
and day. Both of these hues Apollo has given to the birds he loves,
white to the swan and black to the crow. Would he had given