Pisc These olives will not tempt him. He is a dainty fellow. See with what scorn he regardeth the pink Wickham; and the ginger quill fareth no better than the sherry spinner, nor the Welshman's button, neither. We must e'en put up a red caterpillar. No? Then an orange tag.
Ven: Now, sir, I have given you all my patterns.
Pisc: The fiend run away with this fish! Have you any salmon flies about you?
Ven: Nay, sweet master.
Pisc: Then do you essay to catch him. Is a foe worthy of your steel.
Ven: Thank you, sir. I will try this same detached badger once again. See, master, I have him.
Pisc: Well done, scholar. Keep up your point or all is lost. Reel in your line, scholar—give him line. Oh me! These weeds must be your undoing, I fear. Bravely, scholar, bravely! Give him line—reel in—he is a prodigious stout fish. Shall I take the rod?
Ven: No.
Pisc: Well, you have bungled through, scholar, and now he is your own. Well done, sir! A pound if he is an ounce, and were a good fish an he were in season; but I do find him something lean
