72 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



Hackle. O, 'tis the pride of melodies, and might 

 win its way before caliphs! 



Leister. 'Tis witching as a star- song. 



Gaff. 'Tis jeopardy for a damsel to list to't. 



Otter. Let us build a shrine. 



Swivel. Ay, Otter, you have it ; we will erect a 

 column^ no, a mosque, a temple, a pyramid ay, 

 a pyramid, with vaulty labyrinths and Sphinx-dens, 

 wherein to embody what ? thee, Bill ? Nay, but 

 thy song personified in shape of a but here en- 

 ters supper. It dips the eye of an ogre into one's 

 forehead to peep at such a stalwart fish. O, Leis- 

 ter ! 'twas a noble catch, worthy a king's toil. I'd 

 rather the turning of that broad flank than the con- 

 trol of an armed legion on such a field as glorious 

 Waterloo even so. 



Leister. Let us devour, Doctor, thanking heaven. 

 I have two plump flappers before me, bred among 

 bulrushes dainty birds I warrant them. 



May. They tickle the lamina of my palate. A 

 breast-cut and the left thigh-bone, if you please. 



Leister. The left, Bill ! Ere long there will be 

 nothing left at this rate. 



May. 'Tis plain, thou art right, Jack; forget not 

 to administer an onion. 



Leister. I shall seize on thee otherwise, Bill, an' 

 thou art longer clamorous. How now, Doctor, no 

 duck ? 



Swivel. Keep a reserve, old boy. My first attack 

 is on the fish my second on these choice-looking 



