The Compleat ^Angler 



Look ! under that broad beech tree I sat down when I was last 

 this way a-fishing. And the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to 

 have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to 

 live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill. There 

 I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently towards their centre, 

 the tempestuous sea ; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots and 

 pebble-stones, which broke their waves and turned them into foam. 

 And sometimes I beguiled time by viewing the harmless lambs; 

 some leaping securely in the cool shade, whilst others sported them- 

 selves in the cheerful sun ; and saw others craving comfort from the 

 swollen udders of their bleating dams. As I thus sat, these and other 

 sights had so fully possessed my soul with content, that I thought, as 

 the poet hath happily expressed it, 



/ was for that time lifted above earthy 

 And possessed joys not promised in my birth. 



As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second 

 pleasure entertained me : 'twas a handsome milkmaid, that had not 

 yet attained so much age and wisdom as to load her mind with any 

 fears of many things that will never be (as too many men too often 

 do) ; but she cast away all care, and sung like a nightingale ; her 

 voice was good, and the ditty fitted for it : 'twas that smooth song 

 which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years ago ; and 

 the milkmaid's mother sung an answer to it, which was made by Sir 

 Walter Raleigh in his younger days. 



They were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good, I think much 

 better than the strong lines that are now in fashion in this critical 

 age. Look yonder ! on my word, yonder they both be a-milking 

 again. I will give her the chub, and persuade them to sing those 

 two songs to us. 



God speed you, good woman ! I have been a-fishing, and am 

 going to Bleak Hall to my bed, and having caught more fish than 

 will sup myself and my friend, I will bestow this upon you and your 

 daughter, for I use to sell none. 



MiLK-W. Marry, God requite you, sir, and we'll eat it cheerfully; 

 and if you come this way a-fishing two months hence, a grace of 



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