Scotus.--Well, now let's go to your sport of angling. Where, Master, is
your river?
Anglus.--Marry, 'tis here; mark you, this is the famous Test.
Scotus.--What, Master, this dry ditch? There be scarce three inches of
water in it.
Anglus.--Patience, Scholar, the water is in the meadows, or Master
Oakley, the miller, is holding it up. Nay, let us wait here some hour or
so till the water is turned on. Or perchance, Scholar, for the matter of
five shillings, Master Oakley will even raise his hatches, an you have a
crown about you.
Scotus.--I like not to part with my substance, but, as needs must, here,
Master, is the coin.
[Exit ANGLUS to the Mill. He returns.
Anglus.--Now, Scholar, said I not so? The water is turned on again, and,
lo you, at the tail of yonder stream, a fair trout is rising. You shall
see a touch of our craft.
[ANGLUS crawls on his belly into a tuft of nettles, where he kneels and
flicks his fly for about ten minutes.
Anglus.--Alas, he has ceased rising, and I am grievously entangled in
these nettles. Come, Scholar, but warily, lest ye fright my fish, and
now, disentangle my hook.
Scotus.--Here is your hook, but, marry, my fingers tingle shrewdly with
the nettles; also I marked the fish hasting up stream.
Anglus.--Nay, come, we shall even look for another.
Scotus.--Oh, Master, what is this? That which but now was dry ditch is
presently salad bowl! Mark you how the green vegetables cover the
waters! We shall have no sport.
Anglus.--Patience, Scholar; 'tis but Master Hedgely's men, cutting the
weeds above. We may rest us some hour or two, till they go by. Or,
perchance, for a matter of five shillings--
Scotus.--Nay, Master, this English angling is over costly. The rent of
your ditch is high, the expenses of travel are burdensome. In crawling
through your nettles and thistles I have scratched my face, and torn my
raiment, and I will not pay the labourer to cease labouring in his
industry.
Anglus.--Why then, _pazienza_, Scholar, or listen while I sing that sweet
ditty of country contentment and an angler's life, writ by worthy Master
Hackle long ago.