THE COMPLETE ANGLER. PART I. 



conversed; a man whose foreign employments in the 

 service of this nation and whose experience, learning 1 , 

 wit, and cheerfulness made his company to be esteemed! 

 one of the delights of mankind. This man, whose very 

 approbation of Angling were sufficient to convince any 

 modest censurer of it. ; this man was, also, a most dear 

 lover, and a frequent practiser of the art of Angling : of 

 which he would say, " It was an employment for his 

 (t idle time, which was not then idly spent ;" for 

 Angling was, after tedious study, <c a rest to his mind, 

 <ff a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer 

 c of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a pro- 

 ic curer of contentedness ;" and a that it begat habits of 

 " peace and patience in those that professed and prac- 

 <6 tised it. Indeed, my friend, you will find Angling 

 to be like the virtue of humility ; which has a calmness 

 of spirit, and a world of other blessings attending upon 

 it. Sir, this was the saying of that learned man. 



And I do easily believe, that peace and patience, and 

 a calm content did cohabit in the cheerful heart of Sir 

 Henry Wotton ; because I know that, when he was be- 



j yond seventy years of age, he made this description of 

 a part of the present pleasure that possessed him, us he 



tot quietly, in a summer's evening, on a bank-a fishing. 

 It is a description of the spring; which, because it 

 glided as soft and sweetly from his pen, as that river 

 does, at this time, by which it was (hen made, I shall 

 repeat it unto you : 



This day dame Nature seem'd in love. 



The lusty sap began to move ; 



French juice did stir th' embracing Vines ; 



And birds had drawn their Valentines. 



The jealous Trout, that low did lie, 



Rose at a well-dissembled flic ; 



There, stood my friend, with patient skill, 



Attending of his trembling quill. 



Already were the eaves possest 



With the swift Pilgrim's * daubed nest ; 



The groves already did rejoice, 



In Philomel's triumphing voice, 



* The Swallow. 



