Wives every day in the deep streams, but (strange)
As if the honey of Sea-love delight
Could not suffice his ranging appetite,
Goes courting She-Goats on the grassie shore,
Horning their husbands that had horns before.
And the same Author writes concerning the Cantharus, that which you shall also heare in his own words.
Is ever constant to his faithful Spouse,
In nuptial duties spending his chaste life,
Never loves any but his own dear wife.
Sir, but a little longer, and I have done.
Viat. Sir, take what liberty you think fit, for your discourse seems to be Musick, and charms me into an attention.
Pisc. Why then Sir, I will take a little libertie to tell, or rather to remember you what is said of Turtle Doves: First, that they silently plight their troth and marry; and that then, the Survivor scorns (as the Thracian women are said to do) to out-live his or her Mate; and this is taken for such a truth, that if the Survivor shall ever couple with another, the he or she, not only the living, but the dead, is denyed the name and honour of a true Turtle Dove.
And to parallel this Land Variety & teach mankind moral faithfulness & to condemn those that talk of Religion, and yet come short of the moral faith of fish and fowl; Men that violate the Law, affirm'd by Saint Paul [Rom. 2.14.15] to be writ in their hearts, and which he sayes shal at the last day condemn and leave them without excuse. I pray hearken to what Dubartas sings [5. day.] (for the hearing of such conjugal faithfulness, will be Musick to all chaste ears) and therefore, I say, hearken to what Dubartas sings of the Mullet:
For, if the Fisher hath surprised her pheer,
As mad with woe to shoare she followeth,
Prest to consort him both in life and death.
On the contrary, what shall I say of the House-Cock, which treads any Hen, and then (contrary to the Swan, the Partridg, and Pigeon) takes no care to hatch, to feed, or to cherish his own Brood, but is sensless though they perish.
And 'tis considerable, that the Hen (which because she also takes any Cock, expects it not) who is sure the Chickens be her own, hath by a moral impression her care, and affection to her own Broode, more then doubled, even to such a height, that our Saviour in expressing his love to Jerusalem, [Mat. 23. 37] quotes her for an example of tender affection, as his Father had done Job for a pattern of patience.
And to parallel this Cock, there be divers fishes that cast their spawne on flags or stones, and then leave it uncovered and exposed to become a prey, and be devoured by Vermine or other fishes: but other fishes (as namely the Barbel) take such care for the preservation of their seed, that (unlike to the Cock or the Cuckoe) they mutually labour (both the Spawner, and the Melter) to cover their spawne with sand, or watch it, or hide it in some secret place unfrequented by Vermine, or by any fish but themselves.
Sir, these examples may, to you and others, seem strange; but they are testified, some by Aristotle, some by Pliny, some by Gesner, and by divers others of credit, and are believed and known by divers, both of wisdom and experience, to be a truth; and are (as I said at the beginning) fit for the contemplation of a most serious, and a most pious man.
And that they be fit for the contemplation of the most prudent and pious, and peaceable men, seems to be testified by the practice of so many devout and contemplative men; as the Patriarks or Prophets of old, and of the Apostles of our Saviour in these later times, of which twelve he chose four that were Fishermen: concerning which choice some have made these Observations.
First, That he never reproved these for their Imployment or Calling, as he did the Scribes and the Mony-Changers. And secondly, That he found the hearts of such men, men that by nature were fitted for contemplation and quietness; men of mild, and sweet, and peaceable spirits, (as indeed most Anglers are) these men our blessed Saviour (who is observed to love to plant grace in good natures) though nothing be too hard for him, yet these men he chose to call from their irreprovable imployment, and gave them grace to be his Disciples and to follow him.
And it is observable, that it was our Saviours will that his four Fishermen Apostles should have a prioritie of nomination in the catalogue of his twelve Apostles, as namely first, S. Peter, Andrew, James [Mat. 10.] and John, and then the rest in their order.
And it is yet more observable, that when our blessed Saviour went up into the Mount, at his Transfiguration, when he left the rest of his Disciples and chose onely three to bear him company, that these three were all Fishermen.
And since I have your promise to hear me with patience, I will take a liberty to look back upon an observation that hath been made by an ingenuous and learned man, who observes that God hath been pleased to allow those whom he himselfe hath appointed, to write his holy will in holy Writ, yet to express his will in such Metaphors as their former affections or practise had inclined them to; and he brings Solomon for an example, who before his conversion was remarkably amorous, and after by Gods appointment, writ that Love-Song [the Canticles] betwixt God and his Church.
And if this hold in reason (as I see none to the contrary) then it may be probably concluded, that Moses (whom I told you before, writ the book of Job) and the Prophet Amos were both Anglers, for you shal in all the old Testaments find fish-hooks but twice mentioned; namely, by meek Moses, the friend of God; and by the humble Prophet Amos.
Concerning which last, namely, the Prophet Amos, I shall make but this Observation, That he that shall read the humble, lowly, plain stile of that Prophet, and compare it with the high, glorious, eloquent stile of the prophet Isaiah (though they be both equally true) may easily believe him to be a good natured, plaine Fisher-man.
Which I do the rather believe, by comparing the affectionate, lowly, humble epistles of S. Peter, S. James and S. John, whom we know were Fishers, with the glorious language and high Metaphors of S. Paul, who we know was not.
Let me give you the example of two men more, that have lived nearer to our own times: first of Doctor Nowel sometimes Dean of S. Paul's, (in which Church his Monument stands yet undefaced) a man that in the Reformation of Queen Elizabeth (not that of Henry the VIII.) was so noted for his meek spirit, deep Learning, Prudence and Piety, that the then Parliament and Convocation, both chose, injoyned, and trusted him to be the man to make a Catechism for publick use, such a one as should stand as a rule for faith and manners to their posteritie: And the good man (though he was very learned, yet knowing that God leads us not to heaven by hard questions) made that good, plain, unperplext Catechism, that is printed with the old Service Book. I say, this good man was as dear a lover, and constant practicer of Angling, as any Age can produce; and his custome was to spend (besides his fixt hours of prayer, those hours which by command of the Church were enjoined the old Clergy, and voluntarily dedicated to devotion by many Primitive Christians:) besides those hours, this good man was observed to spend, or if you will, to bestow a tenth part of his time in Angling; and also (for I have conversed with those which have conversed with him) to bestow a tenth part of his Revenue, and all his fish, amongst the poor that inhabited near to those Rivers in which it was caught, saying often, That Charity gave life to Religion: and at his return would praise God he had spent that day free from worldly trouble, both harmlesly and in a Recreation that became a Church-man.
My next and last example shall be that undervaluer of money, the late Provost of Eaton Colledg, Sir Henry Wotton, (a man with whom I have often fish'd and convers'd) a man whose forraign imployments in the service of this Nation, and whose experience, learning, wit and cheerfulness, made his company to be esteemed one of the delights of mankind; this man, whose very approbation of Angling were sufficient to convince any modest Censurer of it, this man was also a most dear lover, and a frequent practicer of the Art of Angling, of which he would say, "['Twas an imployment for his idle time, which was not idly spent;]" for Angling was after tedious study "[A rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a divertion of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a Moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness, and that it begot habits of peace and patience in those that profest and practic'd it.]"
Sir, This was the saying of that Learned man; and I do easily believe that peace, and patience, and a calm content did cohabit in the cheerful heart of Sir Henry Wotton, because I know, that when he was beyond seventy years of age he made this description of a part of the present pleasure that possest him, as he sate quietly in a Summers evening on a bank a fishing; it is a description of the Spring, which because it glides as soft and sweetly from his pen, as that River does now by which it was then made, I shall repeat unto you.
The lustie sap began to move;
Fresh juice did stir th'imbracing Vines,
And birds had drawn their Valentines.
The jealous Trout, that low did lye,
Rose at a well dissembled flie;
There stood my friend with patient skill,
Attending of his trembling quil.
Already were the eaves possest
With the swift Pilgrims dawbed nest:
The Groves already did rejoice,
In Philomels triumphing voice:
The showrs were short, the weather mild,
The morning fresh, the evening smil'd.
Jone takes her neat rubb'd pail, and now
She trips to milk the sand-red Cow;
Where for some sturdy foot-ball Swain.
Jone strokes a Sillibub or twaine.
The fields and gardens were beset
With Tulips, Crocus, Violet,
And now, though late, the modest Rose
Did more then half a blush disclose.
Thus all looks gay and full of chear
To welcome the new liveried year.
These were the thoughts that then possest the undisturbed mind of Sir Henry Wotton. Will you hear the wish of another Angler, and the commendation of his happy life [Jo. Da.], which he also sings in Verse.
Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling place,
Where I may see my quil or cork down sink,
With eager bit of Pearch, or Bleak, or Dace;
And on the world and my Creator think,
Whilst some men strive, ill gotten goods t'imbrace;
And others spend their time in base excess
Of wine or worse, in war and wantonness.
Let them that list these pastimes still pursue,
And on such pleasing fancies feed their fill,
So I the fields and meadows green may view,
And daily by fresh Rivers walk at will,
Among the Daisies and the Violets blue,
Red Hyacinth, and yellow Daffadil,
Purple Narcissus, like the morning rayes,
Pale ganderglass and azure Culverkayes.
I count it higher pleasure to behold
The stately compass of the lofty Skie,
And in the midst thereof (like burning Gold)
The flaming Chariot of the worlds great eye,
The watry clouds, that in the aire up rold,
With sundry kinds of painted colour flye;
And fair Aurora lifting up her head,
Still blushing, rise from old Tithonius bed.
The hils and mountains raised from the plains,
The plains extended level with the ground,
The grounds divided into sundry vains,
The vains inclos'd with rivers running round;
These rivers making way through natures chains
With headlong course into the sea profound;
The raging sea, beneath the vallies low,
Where lakes, and rils, and rivulets do flow.
The loftie woods, the Forrests wide and long
Adorn'd with leaves & branches fresh & green,
In whose cool bowres the birds with many a song
Do welcom with their Quire the Sumers Queen:
The Meadows fair, where Flora's gifts among
Are intermixt, with verdant grass between.
The silver-scaled fish that softly swim,
Within the sweet brooks chrystal watry stream.
All these, and many more of his Creation,
That made the Heavens, the Angler oft doth see,
Taking therein no little delectation,
To think how strange, how wonderful they be;
Framing thereof an inward contemplation,
To set his heart from other fancies free;
And whilst he looks on these with joyful eye,
His mind is rapt above the Starry Skie.
Sir, I am glad my memory did not lose these last Verses, because they are somewhat more pleasant and more sutable to May Day, then my harsh Discourse, and I am glad your patience hath held out so long, as to hear them and me; for both together have brought us within the sight of the Thatcht House; and I must be your Debtor (if you think it worth your attention) for the rest of my promised discourse, till some other opportunity and a like time of leisure.
Viat. Sir, You have Angled me on with much pleasure to the thatcht House, and I now find your words true, That good company makes the way seem short; for, trust me, Sir, I thought we had wanted three miles of the thatcht House, till you shewed it me: but now we are at it, we'l turn into it, and refresh our selves with a cup of Ale and a little rest.
Pisc. Most gladly (Sir) and we'l drink a civil cup to all the Otter Hunters that are to meet you to morrow.
Viat. That we wil, Sir, and to all the lovers of Angling too, of which number, I am now one my self, for by the help of your good discourse and company, I have put on new thoughts both of the Art of Angling, and of all that profess it: and if you will but meet me too morrow at the time and place appointed, and bestow one day with me and my friends in hunting the Otter, I will the next two dayes wait upon you, and we two will for that time do nothing but angle, and talk of fish and fishing.
Pisc. 'Tis a match, Sir, I'l not fail you, God willing, to be at Amwel Hil to morrow morning before Sunrising.
CHAP. II.
Viat. My friend Piscator, you have kept time with my thoughts, for the Sun is just rising, and I my self just now come to this place, and the dogs have just now put down an Otter, look down at the bottom of the hil, there in that Meadow, chequered with water Lillies and Lady-smocks, there you may see what work they make: look, you see all busie, men and dogs, dogs and men, all busie.
Pisc. Sir, I am right glad to meet you, and glad to have so fair an entrance into this dayes sport, and glad to see so many dogs, and more men all in pursuit of the Otter; lets complement no longer, but joine unto them; come honest Viator, lets be gone, lets make haste, I long to be doing; no reasonable hedge or ditch shall hold me.
Viat. Gentleman Huntsman, where found you this Otter?
Hunt. Marry (Sir) we found her a mile off this place a fishing; she has this morning eaten the greatest part of this Trout, she has only left thus much of it as you see, and was fishing for more; when we came we found her just at it: but we were here very early, we were here an hour before Sun-rise, and have given her no rest since we came: sure she'l hardly escape all these dogs and men. I am to have the skin if we kill him.
Viat. Why, Sir, whats the skin worth?
Hunt. 'Tis worth ten shillings to make gloves; the gloves of an Otter are the best fortification for your hands against wet weather that can be thought of.
Pisc. I pray, honest Huntsman, let me ask you a pleasant question, Do you hunt a Beast or a fish?
H. Sir, It is not in my power to resolve you; for the question has been debated among many great Clerks, and they seem to differ about it; but most agree, that his tail is fish: and if his body be fish too, then I may say, that a fish will walk upon land (for an Otter does so) sometimes five or six, or ten miles in a night. But (Sir) I can tell you certainly, that he devours much fish, and kils and spoils much more: And I can tell you, that he can smel a fish in the water one hundred yards from him (Gesner sayes, much farther) and that his stones are good against the Falling-sickness: and that there is an herb Benione, which being hung in a linen cloth near a Fish Pond, or any haunt that he uses, makes him to avoid the place, which proves he can smell both by water and land. And thus much for my knowledg of the Otter, which you may now see above water at vent, and the dogs close with him; I now see he will not last long, follow therefore my Masters, follow, for Sweetlips was like to have him at this vent.
via. Oh me, all the Horse are got over the river, what shall we do now?
Hun. Marry, stay a little & follow, both they and the dogs will be suddenly on this side again, I warrant you, and the Otter too it may be: now have at him with Kil buck, for he vents again.
via. Marry so he is, for look he vents in that corner. Now, now Ringwood has him. Come bring him to me. Look, 'tis a Bitch Otter upon my word, and she has lately whelped, lets go to the place where she was put down, and not far from it, you will find all her young ones, I dare warrant you: and kill them all too.
Hunt. Come Gentlemen, come all, lets go to the place where we put downe the Otter; look you, hereabout it was that shee kennell'd; look you, here it was indeed, for here's her young ones, no less then five: come lets kill them all.
Pisc. No, I pray Sir; save me one, and I'll try if I can make her tame, as I know an ingenuous Gentleman in Leicester-shire has done; who hath not only made her tame, but to catch fish, and doe many things of much pleasure.
Hunt. Take one with all my heart; but let us kill the rest. And now lets go to an honest Alehouse and sing Old Rose, and rejoice all of us together.
Viat. Come my friend, let me invite you along with us; I'll bear your charges this night, and you shall beare mine to morrow; for my intention is to accompany you a day or two in fishing.
Pisc. Sir, your request is granted, and I shall be right glad, both to exchange such a courtesie, and also to enjoy your company.
Viat. Well, now lets go to your sport of Angling.
Pisc. Lets be going with all my heart, God keep you all, Gentlemen, and send you meet this day with another bitch Otter, and kill her merrily, and all her young ones too.
Viat. Now Piscator, where wil you begin to fish?
Pisc. We are not yet come to a likely place, I must walk a mile further yet before I begin.
Viat. Well then, I pray, as we walk, tell me freely how you like my Hoste, and the company? is not mine Hoste a witty man?
Pisc. Sir, To speak truly, he is not to me; for most of his conceits were either Scripture-jests, or lascivious jests; for which I count no man witty: for the Divel will help a man that way inclin'd, to the first, and his own corrupt nature (which he alwayes carries with him) to the latter. But a companion that feasts the company with wit and mirth, and leaves out the sin (which is usually mixt with them) he is the man: and indeed, such a man should have his charges born: and to such company I hope to bring you this night; for at Trout-Hal, not far from this place, where I purpose to lodg to night, there is usually an Angler that proves good company.
But for such discourse as we heard last night, it infects others; the very boyes will learn to talk and swear as they heard mine Host, and another of the company that shall be nameless; well, you know what example is able to do, and I know what the Poet sayes in the like case:
Owes to his Country his Religion:
And in another would as strongly grow,
Had but his Nurse or Mother taught him so.
This is reason put into Verse, and worthy the consideration of a wise man. But of this no more, for though I love civility, yet I hate severe censures: I'll to my own Art, and I doubt not but at yonder tree I shall catch a Chub, and then we'll turn to an honest cleanly Alehouse that I know right well, rest our selves, and dress it for our dinner.
via. Oh, Sir, a Chub is the worst fish that swims, I hoped for a Trout for my dinner.
Pis. Trust me, Sir, there is not a likely place for a Trout hereabout, and we staid so long to take our leave of your Huntsmen this morning, that the Sun is got so high, and shines so clear, that I will not undertake the catching of a Trout till evening; and though a Chub be by you and many others reckoned the worst of all fish, yet you shall see I'll make it good fish by dressing it.
Viat. Why, how will you dress him?
Pisc. I'll tell you when I have caught him: look you here, Sir, do you see? (but you must stand very close) there lye upon the top of the water twenty Chubs: I'll catch only one, and that shall be the biggest of them all: and that I will do so, I'll hold you twenty to one.
Viat. I marry, Sir, now you talk like an Artist, and I'll say, you are one, when I shall see you perform what you say you can do; but I yet doubt it.
Pisc. And that you shall see me do presently; look, the biggest of these Chubs has had some bruise upon his tail, and that looks like a white spot; that very Chub I mean to catch; sit you but down in the shade, and stay but a little while, and I'll warrant you I'll bring him to you.
Viat. I'll sit down and hope well, because you seem to be so confident.
Pisc. Look you Sir, there he is, that very Chub that I shewed you, with the white spot on his tail; and I'll be as certain to make him a good dish of meat, as I was to catch him. I'll now lead you to an honest Alehouse, where we shall find a cleanly room, Lavender in the windowes, and twenty Ballads stuck about the wall; there my Hostis (which I may tell you, is both cleanly and conveniently handsome) has drest many a one for me, and shall now dress it after my fashion, and I warrant it good meat.
Viat. Come Sir, with all my heart, for I begin to be hungry, and long to be at it, and indeed to rest my self too; for though I have walked but four miles this morning, yet I begin to be weary; yester dayes hunting hangs stil upon me.
Pisc. Wel Sir, and you shal quickly be at rest, for yonder is the house I mean to bring you to.
Come Hostis, how do you? wil you first give us a cup of your best Ale, and then dress this Chub, as you drest my last, when I and my friend were hereabout eight or ten daies ago? but you must do me one courtesie, it must be done instantly.
Host. I wil do it, Mr. Piscator, and with all the speed I can.
Pisc. Now Sir, has not my Hostis made haste? And does not the fish look lovely?
Viat. Both, upon my word Sir, and therefore lets say Grace and fall to eating of it.
Pisc. Well Sir, how do you like it?
Viat. Trust me, 'tis as good meat as ever I tasted: now let me thank you for it, drink to you, and beg a courtesie of you; but it must not be deny'd me.
Pisc. What is it, I pray Sir? You are so modest, that me thinks I may promise to grant it before it is asked.
Viat. Why Sir, it is that from henceforth you wil allow me to call you Master, and that really I may be your Scholer, for you are such a companion, and have so quickly caught, and so excellently cook'd this fish, as makes me ambitious to be your scholer.
Pisc. Give me your hand: from this time forward I wil be your Master, and teach you as much of this Art as I am able; and will, as you desire me, tel you somewhat of the nature of some of the fish which we are to Angle for; and I am sure I shal tel you more then every Angler yet knows.
And first I will tel you how you shall catch such a Chub as this was; & then how to cook him as this was: I could not have begun to teach you to catch any fish more easily then this fish is caught; but then it must be this particular way, and this you must do:
Go to the same hole, where in most hot days you will finde floting neer the top of the water, at least a dozen or twenty Chubs; get a Grashopper or two as you goe, and get secretly behinde the tree, put it then upon your hook, and let your hook hang a quarter of a yard short of the top of the water, and 'tis very likely that the shadow of your rod, which you must rest on the tree, will cause the Chubs to sink down to the bottom with fear; for they be a very fearful fish, and the shadow of a bird flying over them will make them do so; but they will presently rise up to the top again, and there lie soaring till some shadow affrights them again: when they lie upon the top of the water, look out the best Chub, which you setting your self in a fit place, may very easily do, and move your Rod as softly as a Snail moves, to that Chub you intend to catch; let your bait fall gently upon the water three or four inches before him, and he will infallibly take the bait, and you will be as sure to catch him; for he is one of the leather-mouth'd fishes, of which a hook does scarce ever lose his hold: and therefore give him play enough before you offer to take him out of the water. Go your way presently, take my rod, and doe as I bid you, and I will sit down and mend my tackling till you return back.
Viat. Truly, my loving Master, you have offered me as fair as I could wish: Ile go, and observe your directions.
Look you, Master, what I have done; that which joyes my heart; caught just such another Chub as yours was.
Pisc. Marry, and I am glad of it: I am like to have a towardly Scholar of you. I now see, that with advice and practice you will make an Angler in a short time.
Viat. But Master, What if I could not have found a Grashopper?
Pis. Then I may tell you, that a black Snail, with his belly slit, to shew his white; or a piece of soft cheese will usually do as well; nay, sometimes a worm, or any kind of fly; as the Ant-fly, the Flesh-fly, or Wall-fly, or the Dor or Beetle, (which you may find under a Cow-turd) or a Bob, which you will find in the same place, and in time wil be a Beetle; it is a short white worm, like to, and bigger then a Gentle, or a Cod-worm, or Case-worm: any of these will do very wel to fish in such a manner. And after this manner you may catch a Trout: in a hot evening, when as you walk by a Brook, and shal see or hear him leap at Flies, then if you get a Grashopper, put it on your hook, with your line about two yards long, standing behind a bush or tree where his hole is, and make your bait stir up and down on the top of the water; you may, if you stand close, be sure of a bit, but not sure to catch him, for he is not a leather mouthed fish: and after this manner you may fish for him with almost any kind of live Flie, but especially with a Grashopper.
Viat. But before you go further, I pray good Master, what mean you by a leather mouthed fish.
Pisc. By a leather mouthed fish, I mean such as have their teeth in their throat, as the Chub or Cheven, and so the Barbel, the Gudgion and Carp, and divers others have; and the hook being stuck into the leather or skin of such fish, does very seldome or never lose its hold: But on the contrary, a Pike, a Pearch, or Trout, and so some other fish, which have not their teeth in their throats, but in their mouthes, which you shal observe to be very full of bones, and the skin very thin, and little of it: I say, of these fish the hook never takes so sure hold, but you often lose the fish unless he have gorg'd it.
Viat. I thank you good Master for this observation; but now what shal be done with my Chub or Cheven that I have caught.
Pisc. Marry Sir, it shall be given away to some poor body, for Ile warrant you Ile give you a Trout for your supper; and it is a good beginning of your Art to offer your first fruits to the poor, who will both thank God and you for it.
And now lets walk towards the water again, and as I go Ile tel you when you catch your next Chub, how to dresse it as this was.
Viat. Come (good Master) I long to be going and learn your direction.
Pisc. You must dress it, or see it drest thus: When you have scaled him, wash him very cleane, cut off his tail and fins; and wash him not after you gut him, but chine or cut him through the middle as a salt fish is cut, then give him four or five scotches with your knife, broil him upon wood-cole or char-cole; but as he is broiling; baste him often with butter that shal be choicely good; and put good store of salt into your butter, or salt him gently as you broil or baste him; and bruise or cut very smal into your butter, a little Time, or some other sweet herb that is in the Garden where you eat him: thus used, it takes away the watrish taste which the Chub or Chevin has, and makes him a choice dish of meat, as you your self know, for thus was that dressed, which you did eat of to your dinner.
Or you may (for variety) dress a Chub another way, and you will find him very good, and his tongue and head almost as good as a Carps; but then you must be sure that no grass or weeds be left in his mouth or throat.
Thus you must dress him: Slit him through the middle, then cut him into four pieces: then put him into a pewter dish, and cover him with another, put into him as much White Wine as wil cover him, or Spring water and Vinegar, and store of Salt, with some branches of Time, and other sweet herbs; let him then be boiled gently over a Chafing-dish with wood coles, and when he is almost boiled enough, put half of the liquor from him, not the top of it; put then into him a convenient quantity of the best butter you can get, with a little Nutmeg grated into it, and sippets of white bread: thus ordered, you wil find the Chevin and the sauce too, a choice dish of meat: And I have been the more careful to give you a perfect direction how to dress him, because he is a fish undervalued by many, and I would gladly restore him to some of his credit which he has lost by ill Cookery.
Viat. But Master, have you no other way to catch a Cheven, or Chub?
Pisc. Yes that I have, but I must take time to tel it you hereafter; or indeed, you must learn it by observation and practice, though this way that I have taught you was the easiest to catch a Chub, at this time, and at this place. And now we are come again to the River; I wil (as the Souldier sayes) prepare for skirmish; that is, draw out my Tackling, and try to catch a Trout for supper.
Viat. Trust me Master, I see now it is a harder matter to catch a Trout then a Chub; for I have put on patience, and followed you this two hours, and not seen a fish stir, neither at your Minnow nor your worm.
Pisc. Wel Scholer, you must indure worse luck sometime, or you will never make a good Angler. But what say you now? there is a Trout now, and a good one too, if I can but hold him; and two or three turns more will tire him: Now you see he lies still, and the sleight is to land him: Reach me that Landing net: So (Sir) now he is mine own, what say you? is not this worth all my labour?
Viat. On my word Master, this is a gallant Trout; what shall we do with him?
Pisc. Marry ee'n eat him to supper: We'l go to my Hostis, from whence we came; she told me, as I was going out of door, that my brother Peter, a good Angler, and a cheerful companion, had sent word he would lodg there to night, and bring a friend with him. My Hostis has two beds, and I know you and I may have the best: we'l rejoice with my brother Peter and his friend, tel tales, or sing Ballads, or make a Catch, or find some harmless sport to content us.
Viat. A match, good Master, lets go to that house, for the linen looks white, and smels of Lavender, and I long to lye in a pair of sheets that smels so: lets be going, good Master, for I am hungry again with fishing.
Pisc. Nay, stay a little good Scholer, I caught my last Trout with a worm, now I wil put on a Minow and try a quarter of an hour about yonder trees for another, and so walk towards our lodging. Look you Scholer, thereabout we shall have a bit presently, or not at all: Have with you (Sir!) on my word I have him. Oh it is a great logger-headed Chub: Come, hang him upon that Willow twig, and let's be going. But turn out of the way a little, good Scholer, towards yonder high hedg: We'l sit whilst this showr falls so gently upon the teeming earth, and gives a sweeter smel to the lovely flowers that adorn the verdant Meadows.
Look, under that broad Beech tree I sate down when I was last this way a fishing, and the birds in the adjoining Grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an Echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow cave, near to the brow of that Primrose hil; there I sate viewing the Silver streams glide silently towards their center, the tempestuous Sea, yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots, and pibble stones, which broke their waves, and turned them into some: and sometimes viewing the harmless Lambs, some leaping securely in the cool shade, whilst others sported themselvs in the cheerful Sun; and others were craving comfort from the swolne Udders of their bleating Dams. As I thus sate, these and other sighs had so fully possest my soul, that I thought as the Poet has happily exprest it:
And possest joyes not promis'd in my birth.
As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second pleasure entertained me, 'twas a handsome Milk-maid, that had cast away all care, and sung like a Nightingale; her voice was good, and the Ditty fitted for it; 'twas that smooth Song which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years ago; and the Milk maid's mother sung an answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days.
They were old fashioned Poetry, but choicely good, I think much better then that now in fashion in this Critical age. Look yonder, on my word, yonder they be both a milking again: I will give her the Chub, and persuade them to sing those two songs to us.
Pisc. God speed, good woman, I have been a-fishing, and am going to Bleak Hall to my bed, and having caught more fish then will sup my self and friend, will bestow this upon you and your daughter for I use to sell none.
Milkw. Marry, God requite you Sir, and we'l eat it cheerfully: will you drink a draught of red Cow's milk?
Pisc. No, I thank you: but I pray do us a courtesie that shal stand you and your daughter in nothing, and we wil think our selves stil something in your debt; it is but to sing us a Song, that that was sung by you and your daughter, when I last past over this Meadow, about eight or nine dayes since.
Milk. what Song was it, I pray? was it, Come Shepherds deck your heads: or, As at noon Dulcina rested: or Philida flouts me?
Pisc. No, it is none of those: it is a Song that your daughter sung the first part, and you sung the answer to it.
Milk. O I know it now, I learn'd the first part in my golden age, when I was about the age of my daughter; and the later part, which indeed fits me best, but two or three years ago; you shal, God willing, hear them both. Come Maudlin, sing the first part to the Gentlemen with a merrie heart, and Ile sing the second.
Come live with me, and be my Love,
And we wil all the pleasures prove
That vallies, Groves, or hils, or fields,
Or woods and steepie mountains yeelds.
Where we will sit upon the Rocks,
And see the Shepherds feed our flocks,
By shallow Rivers, to whose falls
Mellodious birds sing madrigals.
And I wil make thee beds of Roses,
And then a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a Kirtle,
Imbroidered all with leaves of Mirtle.
A Gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull,
Slippers lin'd choicely for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivie buds,
With Coral clasps, and Amber studs
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my Love.
The Shepherds Swains shal dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my Love.
Via. Trust me Master, it is a choice Song, and sweetly sung by honest Maudlin: Ile bestow Sir Thomas Overbury's Milk maids wish upon her, That she may dye in the Spring, and have good store of flowers stuck round about her winding sheet.
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherds tongue?
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee, and be thy love.
But time drives flocks from field to fold:
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The Rest complains of cares to come.
The Flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yeilds
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancies spring, but sorrows fall.
Thy gowns, thy shooes, thy beds of Roses,
Thy Cap, thy Kirtle, and thy Posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and Ivie buds,
Thy Coral clasps and Amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee, and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love stil breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need;
Then those delights my mind might move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
Pisc. Well sung, good woman, I thank you, I'l give you another dish of fish one of these dayes, and then beg another Song of you. Come Scholer, let Maudlin alone, do not you offer to spoil her voice. Look, yonder comes my Hostis to cal us to supper. How now? is my brother Peter come?
Host. Yes, and a friend with him, they are both glad to hear you are in these parts, and long to see you, and are hungry, and long to be at supper.
CHAP. III.
Piscat. Wel met brother Peter, I heard you & a friend would lodg here to night, and that has made me and my friend cast to lodge here too; my friend is one that would faine be a brother of the Angle: he has been an Angler but this day, and I have taught him how to catch a Chub with daping a Grashopper, and he has caught a lusty one of nineteen inches long. But I pray you brother, who is it that is your companion?
Peter. Brother Piscator, my friend is an honest Country man, and his name is Coridon, a most downright witty merry companion that met me here purposely to eat a Trout and be pleasant, and I have not yet wet my line since I came from home: But I wil fit him to morrow with a Trout for his breakfast, if the weather be any thing like.
Pisc. Nay brother, you shall not delay him so long, for look you here is a Trout will fill six reasonable bellies. Come Hostis, dress it presently, and get us what other meat the house wil afford, and give us some good Ale, and lets be merrie.
The Description of a Trout.
Peter. On my word, this Trout is in perfect season. Come, I thank you, and here's a hearty draught to you, and to all the brothers of the Angle, wheresoever they be, and to my young brothers good fortune to morrow; I wil furnish him with a rod, if you wil furnish him with the rest of the tackling, we wil set him up and make him a fisher.
And I wil tel him one thing for his encouragement, that his fortune hath made him happy to be a Scholer to such a Master; a Master that knowes as much both of the nature and breeding of fish, as any man; and can also tell him as well how to catch and cook them, from the Minnow to the Sammon, as any that I ever met withall.
Pisc. Trust me, brother Peter, I find my Scholer to be so sutable to my own humour, which is to be free and pleasant, and civilly merry, that my resolution is to hide nothing from him. Believe me, Scholer, this is my resolution: and so here's to you a hearty draught, and to all that love us, and the honest Art of Angling.
Viat. Trust me, good Master, you shall not sow your seed in barren ground, for I hope to return you an increase answerable to your hopes; but however, you shal find me obedient, and thankful, and serviceable to my best abilitie.
Pisc. 'Tis enough, honest Scholer, come lets to supper. Come my friend Coridon, this Trout looks lovely, it was twenty two inches when it was taken, and the belly of it look'd some part of it as yellow as a Marygold, and part of it as white as a Lily, and yet me thinks it looks better in this good fawce.
Coridon. Indeed, honest friend, it looks well, and tastes well, I thank you for it, and so does my friend Peter, or else he is to blame.
Pet. Yes, and so I do, we all thank you, and when we have supt, I wil get my friend Coridon to sing you a Song, for requital.
Cor. I wil sing a Song if anyboby wil sing another; else, to be plain with you, I wil sing none: I am none of those that sing for meat, but for company; I say, 'Tis merry in Hall when men sing all.
Pisc. I'l promise you I'l sing a Song that was lately made at my request by Mr. William Basse, one that has made the choice Songs of the Hunter in his carrere, and of Tom of Bedlam, and many others of note; and this that I wil sing is in praise of Angling.
Cor. And then mine shall be the praise of a Country mans life: What will the rest sing of?
Pet. I wil promise you I wil sing another Song in praise of Angling, to-morrow night, for we wil not part till then, but fish to morrow, and sup together, and the next day every man leave fishing, and fall to his business.
Viat. 'Tis a match, and I wil provide you a Song or a Ketch against then too, that shal give some addition of mirth to the company; for we wil be merrie.
Pisc. 'Tis a match my masters; lets ev'n say Grace, and turn to the fire, drink the other cup to wet our whistles, and so sing away all sad thoughts.
Come on my masters, who begins? I think it is best to draw cuts and avoid contention.
Pet. It is a match. Look, the shortest Cut fals to Coridon.
Cor. Well then, I wil begin; for I hate contention.