2oS THE COMPLETE ANGLER. [part \, 



secure us both from the sun's violent heat, and from the approach- 



hig shower. And being set down, I will requite a part of your 



courtesies with a bottle of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which, 



all put together, make a drink like nectar ; indeed, too good for 



any but us Anglers. And so, Master, here is a full glass to you 



of that liquor : and when you have pledged me, I will repeat the ' 



Verses which I promised you : it is a Copy printed among some 



of Sir Henry Wotton's,* and doubtless made either by him, or 



by a lover of angling. Come, Master, now drink a glass to me, 



and then I will pledge you, and fall to my repetition ; it is a 



description of such country recreations as I have enjoyed since I 



had the happiness to fall into your company. 



Quivering fears, heart-tearing carei5, Which done, both bleating run, each to his 



Anxious t-ighs, untimely tears, mother ; 



Fiy, fly to courts. And wounds are never found. 



Fly to fond worldlings' imports, Save what the ploughshare gives the 



Where strain'd sardonic smiles are glosiiig ground. 



still, 

 And Grief is forc'd to laugh against her will : Here are no false entrapping baits, 



Where mirth's but mummery, 'J-'o hasten too, too hasty Fates, 



And sorrows only real be. Unless it be 



_, , . .- fl The fond credulity 



Fly from our country pastimes, fly, Qf silly fish, which. worldUng-like, still look 



Sad troops of human misery. Up„„ ti,e bait, but never on the hook ; 



_ Come, serene looks, Nor envy, unless among 



Clear as the ciystal brooks, ^he birds, for prize of their sweet song. 



Or the pure a2ur d heaven that smiles to see 

 The rich attendance of our poverty : Go, let the diving negro seek 



Peace and a sepure mind, For gems, hid in some forlorn creek : 



Which all men seek, we only find. We all pearls scorn. 



Abused mortals I did you know • Save what the dewy morn 



Where joy, heart's-ease, and comforts grow, S?,"-= J'^ "P?" ^^'^1' little spire of grass. 



You'd scorn proud towers. Which careless shepherds beat down a 



And seek them in these bower.s ; ''^^ P^^^ *, 



Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps S-"* S°\^ "= er here appears 



may shake oave what the yellow Ceres bears. 



''Norrrt<7e=rcZ'i'nigru" '[Si! Ble=t silent grove., oh may ye be. 



Saving of fountains that glfde by u^. '^''^^^^r c'on=te'n=t? ""''"^^^ ' 



Here's no fantastic mask, nor dance, Fof* ever pitch their tents 



But of our kids that frisk and prance ; Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks, 



Nor wars are seen these mountains, 



Unless upon the ereen And peace still slumber by these purlin,? 



Two harmless lambs are butting one the Which we may, every year, [fountains : 



other, Meet when we come a- fishing here. 



PiSCATOR. Trust me, Scholar, I thank you heartily for these 

 Verses : they be choicely good, and doubtless made by a lover of 

 angling. Come, now, drink a glass to me, and I will requite you 

 with another very good copy • it is a farewell to the vanities of 

 the world, and some say written by Sir Harry Wotton,^ who I 



VAHIATION. 



2 and I will requite you with a very good copy of verses : it is a farewell to the 

 vanities of the world, and some say written by Dr D. — \st and 2d edit. 



See Keliquia Wotionianay 8vo, 1685, page 390. 



