The Fourth Day 175 



Or we sometimes pass an hour 



Under a green willow, 

 That defends us from a shower, 

 Making earth our pillow ; 

 Where we may 

 Think and pray 

 Before death 

 Stops our breath. 

 Other joys 

 Are but toys, 

 And to be lamented. 



Jo. CHALXHILL. 



VENATOR. Well sung, master ; this day's fortune 

 and pleasure, and the night's company and song, 

 do all make me more and more in love with 

 angling. Gentlemen, my master left me alone for 

 an hour this day; and I verily believe he retired 

 himself from talking with me that he might be so 

 perfect in this song ; was it not, master? 



PlSCATOR. Yes indeed, for it is many years since 

 I learned it ; and having forgotten a part of it, I 

 was forced to patch it up with the help of mine own 

 invention, who am not excellent at poetry, as my 

 part of the song may testify ; but of that I will say 

 no more, lest you should think I mean, by discom- 

 mending it, to beg your commendations of it. And 

 therefore, without replications, let's hear your catch, 

 scholar ; which I hope will be a good one, for you 

 are both musical and have a good fancy to boot. 



VENATOR. Marry, and that you shall; and as 

 freely as I would have my honest master tell me 

 some more secrets of fish and fishing, as we walk 

 and fish towards London to-morrow. But, master, 

 first let me tell you, that very hour which you were 

 absent from me, I sat down under a willow-tree by 

 the water-side, and considered what you had told 

 me of the owner of that pleasant meadow in which 

 you then left me; that he had a plentiful estate, 

 and not a heart to think so ; that he had at this 



