'Busy, curious, thirsty fly!'

 The recent cold snaps have put paid to the last of the summer's wasps and flies, though the latter have hung around rather longer. When it come to flies, I (unlike Mrs N) take the line favoured by Uncle Toby in Tristram Shandy: 

'Go—says he, one day at dinner, to an over-grown one which had buzz’d about his nose, and tormented him cruelly all dinner-time,—and which, after infinite attempts, he had caught at last, as it flew by him;—I’ll not hurt thee, says my uncle Toby, rising from his chair, and going a-cross the room, with the fly in his hand,—I’ll not hurt a hair of thy head:—Go, says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he spoke, to let it escape;—go poor devil, get thee gone, why should I hurt thee?—This world surely is wide enough to hold both thee and me.'

For all their deplorable habits, flies are marvellous little creatures, wonderfully made, even beautiful if looked at closely and without prejudice, and their habit of scrupulously 'washing their hands' is endearing. Their vision operates at such a speed that our attempts to catch them are usually doomed: they see our approaching hand moving in slow motion and escape at their leisure.
Uncle Toby was not the only one with a soft spot for the fly. Browsing in my recently purchased India-paper anthology, I came across this, by William Oldys: 

On a Fly Drinking Out of His Cup

Busy, curious, thirsty fly!
Drink with me and drink as I:
Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou sip and sip it up:
Make the most of life you may,
Life is short and wears away.

Both alike are mine and thine
Hastening quick to their decline:
Thine's a summer, mine's no more,
Though repeated to threescore.
Threescore summers, when they're gone,
Will appear as short as one!

 Oldys was an important antiquarian and bibliographer, but a man of irregular habits, whose debts landed him in the Fleet prison for two years, before he was rescued by friends who paid off all he owed. The Duke of Norfolk appointed him Norfolk Herald Extraordinary and Norroy King of Arms. However, the College of Arms describes him as 'a noted antiquary and bibliographer but wholly ignorant of heraldry and known for being "rarely sober in the afternoon, never after supper" and "much addicted to low company".'