i8 



From whence of darts they have obtain'd the name; 

 The mullets also love a living stream, 



With 



the river." To such marauders the following humourous ballad is ap- 

 plicable. 



You that fish for Dace and Roches, 



Carpcs or Tenohes, Bonus noches, 



Thou wast born* betweene two dishes, 



When the Fryday signe was fishes. 



Angler's yeares are made and spent, 



All in Ember weekes and Lent. 



Breake thy rod about thy noddle, 

 Throw thy wormes and flies by the pottle, 

 Kepe thy corke to stop thy bottle, 

 Make straight thy hooke, and be not afeardj 



To shave his beard ; 

 That in case of started stitches 

 Hooke and line may mend thy breeches. 



He that searches pools and dikes, 



Halters Jackes, and strangles Pikes, 



Let him know, though he think he wise is, 



'Tis not a sport but an assizes. 



Fish co tooke, were the case disputed, 



Are not tooke, but executed. 

 Breake thy rod, &c. 



You whose pastes fox rivers throat, 



And make Isii pay her groat, 



That from May to parch October, 



Scarce a Miaew can slepe sober. 



Be your fish in oven thrust, 



And your owne Red-paste the crust. 

 Breake thy rod, &c. 



Hookes and lines of larger sizes, 

 Such as the tyrant that troules devises, 

 Fishes a nere beleive his fable, 

 What he calls a line is a cable ; 

 That's a knare of endlesse rancor, 

 Who for a hooke doth cast an ajiokfr 

 Breake thy rod, *c. 



But 



