Ven: Here is help. Good fellow, lend me your aid.
Cor: Marnin', gentlemen both. Lar, naow, if it bean't Measter Piscator. Zure as my name be Corydon, 'tis. Swimmin', be 'ee, zur? Cayn't catch these-air trouts thataway, zur. Haw! Haw!
Pisc: …
Ven: Nay, good master, this honest man meaneth well by us. Prithee, brave Corydon.
Cor: Naow, zur—one, two, three—and up comes the
Pisc: Donkey!
Cor: If you please, zur.
Pisc: I am soundly drenched. Corydon, are you not keeper here, and is not that your cottage?
Cor: Ay, zur.
Pisc: Then, friend, you shall fit me with a dry pair of breeches. Scholar, I will presently return.
Ven: And while you are gone, I will match my poor skill against yonder lusty fish.
Pisc: Nay, scholar, he is too far for you, trust me. Leave him, and on my return I shall show you a pretty piece of angling. Make your way below bridge where I do see some tidy trouts busy, who are more within your capacity. Come, good Corydon.
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