The geese are fed, but you have to pluck them

Every hare may pluck the dead lion's mane

When the fox preaches, look to your geese

Live thy life as it were spoil and pluck the joys that fly.

What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. [Lat., Idem Accio quod Titio jus esto.]

When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky; So at his sight away his fellows fly, And at our stamp here o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries and help from Athens calls.