1/8 ANGLING SKETCHES 



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, tvhere 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. 



