Pro bono, malum
The stagge, that hardly skap'd the hunters in the chase,
At lengthe, by shadowe of a tree, founde refuge for a space.
And when the eger houndes had lefte their wished praye,
Behoulde, with biting of the boughes, him selfe hee did bewraye.
Throughe which, the hunter straight did pierce him to the harte:
Whereat, (quoth hee) this wounde I have, is justly my deserte.
For where I good did finde, I ought not ill requite:
But lo, these boughes that sav'd my life, I did unkindly bite.
Wherefore, althoughe the tree could not revenge her wronge:
Yet nowe by fates, my fall is wrought, who mighte have lived longe.