ftecrcation* 21 



With such like tricks as these one day, 

 One Hundred Forty odd I made my prey, 



One Hook, one Line, one Angle Rod, 

 One Mile was all the ground I trod, 



I scorn deceit, 



And have described the bait; 

 That those who please hereafter for to try, 

 With these same baits may well succeed as I, 

 Yet some there be that talk of Tar and Pitch, 

 And silly Oyles the Fishes to bewitch : 

 They're all unworthy of my love or care. 

 Begon, begon, all nasty drugs, forbear 

 My Muse to sing, but for the Carp a dainty worm 



and red, 



Will Rouse him from the bottom of his flaggy bed, 

 Which when he takes and neatly hung, 

 Your skill requires, your tackle strong, 

 For out he shoots as Arrow from a bow, 

 As far as Line and Rod permits him go : 

 Yet turn him if you can, within the bent of Rod 



to roam, 

 And then a Landing Net will safely bring him 



home. 



Sussex I leave thee, and to Kent repair, 

 Where Ponds are large and waters ever clear, 

 Full flowing streams, and Carps in plenty be, 

 The hopeful Issue to Posterity; 



Three 



