Well,Scholer,you now fee Totenham, and I am weary, and therefore glad that we are fo near it; but if I were to walk many more days with you, I could ftil be telling you more and more of the mysterious Art of Angling; but I wil hope for another opportunitie, and then I wil acquaint you with many more, both necessary and true obfervations concerning fish and fishing: but now no more, lets turn into yonder Arbour, for it is a cleane and cool place.

Viat. 'Tis a faire motion, and I will requite a part of your courtefies with a bottle of Sack, and Milk, and Oranges and Sugar, which all put together, make a drink too good for any body, but us Anglers: and fo Master, here is a full glass to you of that liquor, and when you have pledged me, I wil repeat the Verses which I promised you,it is a Copy printed amongft Sir Henry Wot

tons

tons Verses, and doubtlefs made either by him, or by a lover of Angling: Come Master, now drink a glass to me, and then I will pledge you, and fall to my repetition; it is a discription of such Country recreations as I have enjoyed fince I had the happiness to fall into your company.

Quivering fears, heart tearing cares,
Anxious fighes, untimely tears,
Fly, fly to Courts,

Fly to fond wordlings Sports,

Where ftrain'd Sardonick fmiles are glofing ftil And grief is forc'd to laugh against her will. Where mirths but Mummery,

And forrows only real be.

Fly from our Country pastimes, fly,

Sad troops of humane mifery,

Come ferene looks,

Clear as the Christal Brooks,

Or the pure azur'd heaven that smiles to fee The rich attendance on our poverty;

Peace

Peace and a fecure mind

Which all men feek, we only find.

Abufed Mortals did you know

Where joy, hearts eafe, and comforts grow,

You'd fcorn proud Towers,

And feek them in thefe Bowers,

Shake,

Where winds fometimes our woods perhaps may

But bluftering care could never tempeft make, No murmurs ere come nigh us,

Saving of Fountains that glide by us.

Here's no fantastick Mask nor Dance,
But of our kids that frisk and prance ;
Nor wars are feen

Unless upon the green

Two harmless Lambs are butting one the other, Which done,both bleating, run each to his moAnd wounds are never found, (ther: Save what the Plough-fhare gives the ground.

Here are no falfe entrapping baits To haften too too hafty fates unless it be

the fond credulitie

R

Of

of filly fifb,which, worldling like,ftill look
upon the bait,but never on the book;
Nor envy, 'nless among

The birds, for price of their fweet Song.

Go,let the diving Negro seek
For gems hid in fome forlorn creek,
We all Pearls fcorn,

Save what the dewy morne
Congeals upon each little spire of graffe,
Which careless Shepherds beat down as they paffe,
And Gold ne're here appears

Save what the yellow Ceres bears.

ob

Bleft filent Groves, oh may you be

For ever mirths bleft nursery,

May pure contents

for ever pitch their tents

(mountains,

Upon thefe downs,thefe Meads,thefe rocks,thefe

And peace ftil flumber by these purling fountains

Which we may every year

find when we come a fishing here.

Pifc. Trust me, Scholer, I thank

you heartily for these Verses, they be

choice

1

choicely good, and doublefs made by a lover of Angling: Come,now drink a glass to me, and I wil requite

you with a very good Copy of Verfes; it is a farewel to the vanities of the world, and fome fay written by Dr. D, but let them bee writ by whom they will, he that writ them had a brave foul, and must needs be poffeft with happy thoughts at the time of their compofure.

Farwel ye guilded follies,pleafing troubles, Farwel ye honour'd rags,ye glorious bubbles ; Fame's but a hollow eccho gold pure clay, Honour the darling but of one short day. Beauty (th' eyes idol) but a damask'd skin, State but a golden prifon,to live in

And torture

free-bornminds;imbroider'd trains Meerly but Pageants, for proud fwelling vains, And blood ally'd to greatness,is alone Inherited, not purchaf'd, nor our own. Fame,bonor beauty,ftate,train,blood & birth, Are but the fading blossomes of the earth.

R 2

I would