In at this fissure boldly thrust your pate;
But I beseech you to be moderate.
Remember, sweetest things the soonest cloy,
And temperance enhances every joy.”
“What!” said the Bear, a shock’d look as he put on
Of self-restraint; “d’ye take me for a glutton?
With thanks I use the gifts of Providence,
But to abuse them count a grave offense.”
And so Sir Bruin let himself be fooled—
As strength will be whene’er by craft ’tis ruled.