258 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. [part i. 



Which, we may every year 



Meet when we come a-fishing here. 



Pise. Trust me, Scholar, I thank you heartily 

 for these verses ; they be choicely good, and doubt- 

 less made by a lover of Angling. Come, now, drink 

 a glass to me, and I will requite you with another 

 very good copy : it is a Farewell to the Vanities of 

 the World, and some say, written by Sir Harry 

 Wotton, who I told you was an excellent Angler. 

 But let them be writ by whom they will, he that 

 writ them had a brave soul, and must needs be pos- 

 sessed with happy thoughts at the time of their com- 

 posure. 



Farewell ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles ! 

 Farewell ye honour d rags, ye glorious bubbles ! 

 Fame's but a hollow echo ; — Gold, pure clay ; — 

 Honour, the darling but of one short day ; — 

 Beauty, tK eye's idol, but a damask d skin; — 

 State, but a golden prison, to live in 

 And torture free-born minds : — Embroider d trains 

 Merely but pageants for proud swelling veins : — 

 And blood ally'd to greatness, is alone 

 Inherited, not purchas'd, nor our own. 



Fame, Honour, Beauty, State, Train, Blood and 

 Birth, 



Are but the fading blossoms of the earth. 



I would be great, — but that the sun doth still- 

 Level his rays against the rising hill : 



