Or, if he mark a rising trout,
He straightway is caught up,
And then he takes his flasket out,
And drinks a rousing cup.
Or if a trout he chance to hook,
Weeded and broke is he,
And then be finds a goodly book
Instructive company.
What think you of my song, Scholar? 'Tis choicely musical. What, he is
gone! A pest on those Northerners; they have no manners. Now, methinks
I do remember a trout called George, a heavy fellow that lies ever under
the arch of yonder bridge, where there is shelter from the wind. Ho for
George!
[Exit singing.
SCENE II.--A BRIDGE
Enter ANGLUS
Anglus.--Now to creep like your Indian of Virginia on the prey, and angle
for George. I'faith, he is a lusty trout; many a good Wickham have I
lost in George.
[He ensconces himself in the middle of a thorn bush.
Anglus.--There he is, I mark his big back fin. Now speed me, St. Peter,
patron of all honest anglers! But first to dry my fly!
[He flicks his fly for ten minutes. Enter BOY on Bridge. ANGLUS makes
his cast, too short. BOY heaves a great stone from the Bridge. Exit
GEORGE. Exit BOY.
Anglus.--Oh, Mass! verily the angler had need of patience! Yonder boy
hath spoiled my sport, and were it not that swearing frights the fish, I
could find it in my heart to say an oath or twain.
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