CHAP, in.] THE SECOND DAY. 237 



calling ; for though I do not know yours, my people know my 

 diet, which is always one glass so soon as I am drest, and no 

 more, till dinner : and so my servants have served you. 



VIATOR. My thanks. And now, if you please, let us look 

 out, this fine morning. 



PlSCATOR. With all my heart. Boy, take the key of my 

 fishing-house, and carry down those two angle-rods in the hall 

 window thither, with my fish-pannier, pouch, and landing-net ; 

 and stay you there till we come. Come, Sir, we'll walk after, 

 where, by the way, I expect you shall raise all the exceptions 

 against our country you can. 



VIATOR. Nay, Sir, do not think me so ill-natured, nor so 

 uncivil : I only made a little bold with it last night to divert you, 

 and was only in jest. 



PISCATOR. You were then in as good earnest as I am now 

 with you: but had you been really angry at it, I could not blame 

 you ; for, to say the truth, it is not very taking at first sight. 

 But look you, Sir, now you are abroad, does not the sun shine as 

 bright here as in Essex, Middlesex, or Kent, or any of your 

 Southern countries ? 



VIATOR. 'Tis a delicate morning, indeed, and I now think 

 this a marvellous pretty place. 



PlSCATOR. Whether you think so or no, you cannot oblige 

 me more than to say so: and those of my friends who know my 

 humour, and are so kind as to comply with it, usually flatter me 

 that way. But look you, Sir, now you are at the brink of the 

 hill, how do you like my river ; the vale it winds through, like a 

 snake ; and the situation of my little fishing-house ? * 



VIATOR. Trust me, 'tis all very fine ; and the house seems, 

 at this distance, a neat building. 



PlSCATOR. Good enough for that purpose. And here is a 

 bowling-green too, close by it ; so, though I am myself no very 

 good bowler, I am not totally devoted to my own pleasure, but 

 that I have also some regard to other men's. And now, Sir, you 

 are come to the door ; pray walk in, and there we will sit, and 

 talk as long as you please. 



* Cotton, in his " Epistle to John Bradshaw, Esq.," printed in his Posthumous Poems, 

 thus alludes to his Fishing-house : 



My River still through the same channel glides 

 Clear from the tumult, salt, and dirt of tides, 

 And my poor Fishing-house, my Seat's best grace t 

 Stands firm and faithful in the self-same place, 

 I left it four months since, and ten to one 

 1 go a-fishing ere two days are gone. 



