A bird catcher caught nothing and had to pick between his partridge lure and a rooster. Good bye rooster despite a good argument.
Necessity knows no law.
Townsend version
A birdcatcher was about to sit down to a dinner of herbs when a friend unexpectedly came in. The bird-trap was quite empty, as he had caught nothing, and he had to kill a pied Partridge, which he had tamed for a decoy. The bird entreated earnestly for his life: “What would you do without me when next you spread your nets? Who would chirp you to sleep, or call for you the covey of answering birds?’ The Birdcatcher spared his life, and determined to pick out a fine young Cock just attaining to his comb. But the Cock expostulated in piteous tones from his perch: “If you kill me, who will announce to you the appearance of the dawn? Who will wake you to your daily tasks or tell you when it is time to visit the bird-trap in the morning?’ He replied, “What you say is true. You are a capital bird at telling the time of day. But my friend and I must have our dinners.”
Moral
Necessity knows no law.
Perdix, Gallus, et Venator
Venatori cuidam, dum sibi cenam parabat, amicus repente supervenit. Is vero, cum nullas aves haberet in cavea, nihil enim ea die venatus fuerat, confestim ad perdicem quamdam interficiendam se contulit, quam cicurem fecerat et ad venandum egregie docuerat. Quod ubi illa vidit, ne se occideret exorabat; “Quid enim,” aiebat, “me caesa, tibi retia proderunt, si quando venatum exibis? Quis tibi avium turmas congregabit?” His auditis, venator perdicem dimisit et ad gallum capiendum se convertit. At ille, ex summo tecti fastigio clamans, “Quomodo posthac,” aiebat, “scire poteris, quantum ortus distet aurorae? Si me horarum indicem neci dederis, quis tibi quae mane sunt facienda commemorabit?” Sed venator “Aptas,” inquit, “venationi tempestates bene cognoscis, attamen aliquid oportet habere, quod amicus meus cenare possit.”
Perry #361