There was a certain Widow who had an only Sheep, and, wishing to make the most of his wool, she sheared¹ him so closely that she cut his skin as well as his fleece. The Sheep, smarting under this treatment, cried out: "Why do you torture me thus? What will my blood add to the weight of the wool? If you want my flesh, Dame², send for the Butcher, who will put me out of my misery³ at once; but if you want my fleece, send for the Shearer⁴, who will clip my wool without drawing my blood."

Economy may be carried too far.