THAT WHICH IS NOTHING WORTH 



We have gentles in a horn, 

 We have paste and worms too, 

 We can watch both night and morn, 

 Suffer rain and storms too: 



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 



Pearch 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 him- 

 self from talking with me, that he might be so perfect in this 

 song; was it not, Master? 



Pise. Yes indeed, for it is many years since I learned it, 

 and having forgotten a part of it, I was forced to patch it up by 

 the help of mine own invention, who am not excellent at poetry, 



