chap, xvi.] THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 211 



Before death 

 Stops our breath : 

 Other joys 

 Are but toys, 

 And to be lamented. 



Jo. Chalkhill. 



Ven. Well sung, Master ! This day's fortune and 

 pleasure, and this 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 ? 



Pise. 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 by the help of mine own in- 

 vention, 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. 



Ven. 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 to- 

 wards London to-morrow. But, Master, first let me 

 tell you that, that very hour which you were absent 

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



