178 The Complete Angler 



verses in praise of musick, which I will speak to 

 you instantly. 



Musick t miraculous rhetprick, thou speak'st sense 



Without a tongue, excelling eloquence ; 



With what ease might thy errors be excus'd, 



Wert thou as truly lov'd as th' art abus'd ! 



But though dull souls neglect, and some reprove thee, 



I cannot hate thee, 'cause the Angels love thee. 



VENATOR. And the repetition of these last verses 

 of musick has called to my memory what Mr. 

 Edmund Waller, a lover of the angle, says of love 

 and musick. 



Whilst I listen to thy voice, 

 Chloris I I feel my heart decay ; 



That powerful voice 



Calls my fleeting soul away : 

 Oh ! suppress that magic sound, 

 Which destroys without a wound. 



Peace, Chloris ! peace, or singing die, 

 That together you and I 



To heaven may go ; 



For all we know 

 Of what the blessed do above, 

 Is, that they sing, and that they love. 



PlSCATOR. Well remembered, brother Peter; 

 these verses came seasonably, and we thank you 

 heartily. Come, we will all join together, my host 

 and all, and sing my scholar's catch over again ; 

 and then each man drink the tother cup, and to 

 bed ; and thank God we have a dry house over our 

 heads. 



PlSCATOR. Well, now, good-night to everybody. 



PETER. And so say I. 



VENATOR. And so say I. 



CORIDON. Good-night to you all; and I thank 

 you. 



