Venator. Oh me! look you, master, a fish! a fish! Oh, alas, master, I
have lost her.

Piscator. Ay marry, Sir, that was a good fish indeed: if I had had the
luck to have taken up that rod, then 'tis twenty to one he should not
have broken my line by running to the rod's end, as you suffered him. I
would have held him within the bent of my rod, unless he had been
fellow to the great Trout that is near an ell long, which was of such a
length and depth, that he had his picture drawn, and now is to be seen at
mine host Rickabie's, at the George in Ware, and it may be, by giving
that very great Trout the rod, that is, by casting it to him into the water,
I might have caught him at the long run, for so I use always to do when
I meet with an over-grown fish; and you will learn to do so too,
hereafter, for I tell you, scholar, fishing is an art, or, at least, it is an art
to catch fish.

Venator. But, master, I have heard that the great Trout you speak of is a
Salmon.

Piscator. Trust me, scholar, I know not what to say to it. There are
many country people that believe hares change sexes every year: and
there be very many learned men think so too, for in their dissecting
them they find many reasons to incline them to that belief. And to make
the wonder seem yet less, that hares change sexes, note that Dr. Mer.
Casaubon affirms, in his book " Of credible and incredible things," that
Gasper Peucerus, a learned physician, tells us of a people that once a
year turn wolves, partly in shape, and partly in conditions. And so,
whether this were a Salmon when he came into fresh water, and his not
returning into the sea hath altered him to another colour or kind, I am
not able to say; but I am certain he hath all the signs of being a Trout,
both for his shape, colour, and spots; and yet many think he is not.

Venator. But, master, will this Trout which I had hold of die ? for it is
like he hath the hook in his belly.

Piscator. I will tell you, scholar, that unless the hook be fast in his very
gorge, 'tis more than probable he will live, and a little time, with the
help of the water, will rust the hook, and it will in time wear away, as
the gravel doth in the horse-hoof, which only leaves a false quarter.

And now, scholar, let's go to my rod. Look you, scholar, I have a fish
too, but it proves a logger-headed Chub: and this is not much amiss, for
this will pleasure some poor body, as we go to our lodging to meet our
brother Peter and honest Coridon. Come, now bait your hook again, and
lay it into the water, for it rains again; and we will even retire to the
Sycamore-tree, and there I will give you more directions concerning
fishing, for I would fain make you an artist.

Venator. Yes, good master, I pray let it be so.