The Author of Angling.
<poem> But how this Art of Angling did begin? And who the use and practice found? How many times and ages since have bin Wherein the sun hath daily compast round The circle that the signs twice six are in And yielded yearly comfort to the ground?
It were too hard for me to bring about; Since OVID wrote not all that story out.
Yet to content the willing reader's ear, I will not spare the sad report to tell. When good DEUCALION and his PYRRHA dear Were only left upon the earth to dwell, Of all the rest that overwhelmed were With that great flood, that in their days befell;
Wherein the compass of the world so round Both man and beast with waters deep were drowned.
Between themselves they wept, and made great moan How to repair again the woeful fall Of all mankind, whereof they two alone The remnant were; and wretched portion small: But any means or hope in them was none, That might restore so great a loss withal;
Since they were aged, and in years so run, That now almost their thread of life was spun.
- <poem>
