51 



Angler's yeares are made and spent, 



All in Ember weekes and Lent. 



Breake thy rod about thy noddle, 

 Throw thy worms and flies by the pottle, 

 Kcepe thy corke to stop thy bottle, 

 Make straight thy hooke, be not afeared 



To shave his beard ; 

 That in case of started stitches, 

 Hooke and line may mend thy breaches. 



" He that searches pools and dikes, 

 Halters jackes, and strangles pikes, 

 Let him know, tho' he think he wise is, 

 'Tis not a sport, but an assizes. 

 Fish to hooke, were the case disputed, 

 Are not tooke, but executed. 

 Breake thy rod, &c., &c. 



' You whose pastes fox rivers throat 

 And make Isis pay her groat, 

 That from May to parch October, 

 Scarce a minnow can keep sober ; 

 Be your fish in open thrust, 

 And your owne red-paste the crust. 

 Breake thy rod, &c., &c. 



" Hookes and lines of larger sizes, 

 Souch as the tyrant that troules devises. 

 Fishes nere believe his fable, 

 What he calls a line is a cable ; 

 That's a knave of endless rancour, 

 Who for a hooke doth cast an anchor, 

 Breake thy rod, &c., &c. 



" But of all men he is the cheater. 

 Who with small fish takes up the greater ; 

 He makes carps without all dudgeon, 

 Makes a Jonas of a gudgeon ; 



