THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 



None do here 

 Use to swear, 

 Oaths do fray 

 Fish away ; 

 We sit still, 

 And watch our quill ; 

 Fishers must not wrangle. 



If the sun's excessive heat 

 Make our bodies swelter, 

 To an osier hedge we get 

 For a friendly shelter; 



Where in a dike 



Perch or pike, 



Roach or dace, 



We do chase, 



Bleak or gudgeon 



Without grudging ; 

 We are still contented. 



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. 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 



