AMong the walkes of the wearie, where li­bertie and ayre, are the best comforts of the forlorne spirits of the world, it was the hap of a poore Scholler, (who feeding his imagination with the perswations of con­templation, making his passage downe a falling péece of ground, some-what neere vnto a little hill, fast by a riuer side, whose streames seemed to slide along the banks of a lower platforme) to espy a humaine creature, standing vpright and holding out his arme ouer the water, whom approching vnto somewhat neere, and finding to be an Angler, he saluted in this manner: True figure of pa­tience, no offence to your conceit, howe might it fare with your colde exercise? The Fisherman (as it might appeare by his answer) béeing better trained in the varietie of vn­derstanding then could be contained within the compasse of a casting Nette, vpon the suddaine made him this replie: Shadowe of intelligence, to stay your further eloquence, when fooles gape for flyes, madde men may goe a fishing.

Oh Sir (quoth the Scholler) I pray you enter not in­to choller, with him that meant not to trouble your bet­ter humour: but rather doe mee the fauour to instruct mée in the reason, that might leade you into thys looking la­bour, then to take mée vp for halting ere I come at my iourneys ende: I promise you I was halfe afraide, that Ouids tales would haue fallne out true, and that Narcissus, or some of his kindred, had béen so in loue with theyr owne [Page] shadowe, that hee coulde not goe from the Riuer side: but comming néere, and finding the deceit of my imagination, confessing my folly, I am to craue your kindnes in a little conference, touching the profit of this colde pleasure, and what may be the fish that you angle for with a flie.

Sir quoth the fisherman, to turne wit into choller, is such a peece of newe Alkamie, as I neuer found written in the true rules of Philosophy: and to tell truth, as I remember when I went to the schoole of vnderstanding, I found thys a sentence of discretion: It is but a trifling of wit, to bee troubling of humors: but sith you craue a fauourable in­struction in a matter of small importance, being perswaded that your hast is not great, nor affaires waightie, if you will sit downe and beare mee company, wée will feede the ayre with a little breath. My good friend, quoth the Schol­ler, (for so I would be glad to finde you) to confesse a truth, neither is my hast such, but I may stay well, if not too long to your liking, neither my affaires of such import, but that I may put them of for a time, to enioy the benefite of your good companie. Then sir quoth the Fisherman, let me tell you, I sit heere as you sée angling for a fish, and my baite a flie: for little fishes, as Bleakes, Roches, and such like, a flie will serue the turne: but for greater fishes, wee must find out greater baits: and with these flies wee catch such small frie, as serue to baite our hookes for greater fishes. Now, if you can apply this figure to a good sence, I will hold you for a good scholler in ciphering.

I cannot tell (quoth the Scholler,) howe you woulde I should interprete it, but this I conceiue of it, that a childe may be wonne with an apple, when a Costermonger will not be pleasd without a whole Orchard. I perceiue quoth the Angler, you are of Adams race, you thinke so much vp­on the apple, that poysoned him & all his posteritie, but if one should examine your conscience, doe you not meane the golden apple? Which quoth the scholler? that which was [Page] offered to Iuno, Pallas, and Venus. I thinke it to bee but a meere iest, for surely in these daies, and in such Countries as I haue passed my trauaile in, I neuer saw any creatures so angelicall, but they had spirits so terrestriall, that if a golden apple should be offred, it would be ca [...]cht ere it could bee thought of: and therefore I pray you satis-fie your selfe with this aunswer to your first figure, and so to other, as it will fall out. The Angler holding himselfe contented with this construction of his conceit, followed on with his speech in this manner. Some fishes there are that keepe altoge­ther in the deepe, & they we must angle for with a worme, now to this worme we must haue a line of haire, as neere as we can of such a colour, as may best please the eye of the fish to play with. Now to this line wee must haue a plum­met, which must guide the baite to the bottom, which draw­ing now and then vp and downe, at length so pleaseth the fish, as ventring vppon the baite, aunswers the hope of our labour. Now what thinke you of this figure? Trulie Sir, quoth the Scholler, I thinke that when wit is ledde away with humors, reason may be intangled in repentance, and the pleasing of the eye, is such a plague to the hart, that the worme of cōscience, brings ignorance to destruction, while in the Sea of iniquitie, the deuill angleth for his dinner.

The Fisherman smiling at this aunswere, fell to him with another péece of angling, in this manner. We haue, quoth hée, a kinde of flye made onely of silke, which we make our baite for a fish called a Trowt, with which wee often de­ceiue the foolish thing, as well as with the flie it selfe. Alas sir quoth the scholler, this shewes but the vile course of the world, where wit finding out a foole, féedes his fancie with such illusions, as makes him some-time loose himselfe, with looking after a shadow: as wordes are without substance, when they are layd for easie beleeuers.

Well sir, quoth the Angler, sith you roue so neere the marke of an vnhappy meaning, I will not yet trouble you [Page] with further disciphering of conceits, but onely tell you a little cause of my pleasure taken in this cold exercise. Be­fore I had leysure to learne this lesson of patience, to sit on a banke side, and onely pleasing my conceit with the hope of my cunning, to deceiue a silly creature of her comfort. I saw diuers kinds of fishing in the world, which though they were easily learned, yet I had no minde to looke into, at least for mine owne vse, howsoeuer it profited other: but of these were diuers sundry sorts, and of diuers natures, ac­cording to the Fishermen, or the fish that they baited for: of which kinds, according to the permission of time, I wil ac­quaint you with a few, which I haue learned to forget, as vnpleasing to put in practise. One kind was substantiall, an other metaphoricall, and the third fantasticall. The sub­stantiall was fishing with the golden hooke, which rich men onely layde in the deepe consciences of the couetous, where they plucked vp such fauours, as brought them a world of commoditie: and yet I remember one more wel­thie then wise, hauing made a hooke of a great waight, which was swallowed by a wide mouth, the great fish puld the no little foole into the water, and eyther drowned him in the deepe, or so swallowed him vp quick, that he was ne­uer séene after in the world.

Alas sir quoth the Scholler, this fellow was eyther too gréedy of his gaine, or perswaded himselfe to be another Io­nas, that after three dayes hee shoulde bee cast out of the Whales belly, and come to shore with a Muscle boat: but hee was pittifully deceiued, for by all that I can gesse of him, he had but one sillable of his name, and that was the last, for he prooued himselfe but an Asse, howsoeuer Ione fedde his humor. Alas sir quoth the Angler, there are ma­ny such mis-fortunes in the world, a man may swallowe a Gudgin, whilst he is fishing for a Pickrell, & leape a Whi­ting, whilst he is looking on a Codshead. Yea, quoth the Scholler, but that is foule play, that a man should loose his [Page] stoole, while he is looking for a cushion, and be robd of his bread whilst he is reaching for butter. Indeed qd. the Ang­ler you say true, when one sits by ill neighbours, hee had need looke to his skirts. But leauing these Items, let mee come to my first reckoning: fishing for the great fish I tell you, was wont to be with the golden hooke. Let the Mer­maids sing neuer so sweetly, they make no reckoning of theyr musicke, it is the golden hooke that they will onelie come vnto, and without that, it is but vaine to lay for a fish and catch a Frog. Why, I haue heard of fishes that haue been made drunke with a golden kinde of gum, that after they haue but tasted it in theyr mouthes, they haue turned vp theyr bellies. Now for such great fishes as I speake of, the very oyle of gold is of such vertue, as the quintescence of halfe a million, will so ouer-come the sences of thē that tast it, that they will turne vp both backe and belly, with the giddines of that operation.

Oh sir quoth the Scholler, a vengeance on the deuill, heere is a long tale quickly construed: Iacke of both sides for a bagge of money, where among the companie of the Brokers the deuill angleth for Usurers. But I pray you sir on with your fishing, and if you haue doone with your substantiall, begin with your metaphoricall. Sir, quoth the Angler, in truth my store of gold is so little, that I care not if I speake no more of that hooke: and nowe, touching the metaphoricall fishing, I found it onely by wit, a conceited kind of hooke, that is onely layd in the shallow sence of vn­derstanding, where kinde fooles are cosend with faire words of fine deuises: as a foule Crowe, to bee perswaded with eloquence, that shee is beloued for her white bill, till to feede a flattering humor, shee leaue neuer a feather in her wing. Oh, quoth the Scholler, I vnderstand you, as hee that made faire wether with Vulcan, because hee would make faire worke with Venus. No, no, that is a foolish kind of fishing, to fish for a Codshead, and carry a knaues [Page] head to the market. Oh brother quoth the scholler, you are too plaine in your Aduerbs. In truth, answered the Ang­ler, it is not worthy the name of a Prouerb: for euery note of experience is not a golden sentence, and yet giue a foole a Cocks-combe, and let euery honest man haue his right: for my selfe, I neuer loued to angle for credite with a shewe of more sober countenaunce then simple meaning, for in truth brother, and verily sister, made the deuill daunce Trench­more, where hipocrisie blew the bagpipe. Yea, quoth the Scholler, how catch you a Trowt but with a silken flye, and can you better deceiue a foole, then with a Taffatie face? Oh sir, laugh vpon euery man at the first sight, make a curtsie of the old fashion, say a long grace without booke, find fault with long haire, and great ruffes, and tell youth of his folly, and all imperfections of the flesh, shall be exclu­ded from the spirit.

Oh sir, quoth the Scholler, you shoulde haue set downe probatum, a good medicine for a mad humor, to take phi­sicke without an Apothicarie, & to bleede in a lither vaine. Goe to sir, quoth the Angler, such fits of naturall philoso­phy, put you from your booke, and mee to mine angle: but leauing these new tricks of an old daunce, let vs fall again to our old galiard: and touching angling, say that a madde felow made a baite of a faire wench, to catch a foule churle withall, how many fauours might her sweete eyes plucke out of his sower hart? In deede, quoth the Scholler, it is not a little treason in youth, to catch age in a wheelebar­row, especially when an Ape brings a Beare to seeke hon­nie in a Bee-hiue. Well sir, said the Angler, what say you to him, that angleth with a counterfeite Diamond, to de­ceiue an ignorant Lapidarie. Alas quoth the Scholler, it is but a common Enterlude, betwixt the cunning of witte, and the folly of pride. Yea, quoth the Angler, but what say you of honestie? I think as fooles doe of learning, it may be spared at the market, and hindereth the Country from good [Page] sport. In deede Sir, quoth the Scholler, an Accidence in an olde couer, hath no grace in Court library. And a bal­lad be it neuer so good, it goes a begging after the Faire: and for honestie, it is such a iest, that euen the begger is wearie of it, it hath so little place among other people.

Oh sir, quoth the Angler, you forget your selfe, hath not vertue beene euer the beauty of learning, and honesty such a Badge, as puts downe a painted Cognisaunce? In déed, quoth the Scholler, I must confesse, Olim meminisse iuua­bit, it doth mee good to thinke of honesty, though it thriue but ilfauouredly: for Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis, we may goe in our Ierkins in Somer, but we must haue a Cloake for the Winter. Indeede I haue seene the deuil painted like a Friar when he went to deceiue a Nun, and Iudas looked like a holy brother, when hee played the villaine with his best Maister. Did you take these for Fi­shermen, quoth the Angler? But ilfauoured ones qd. the Scholler, when the one of them layd his baite in hell, and the other followed his hooke to the deuill: and yet I haue heard it is a common note in the world, for Friars to bee wanton, and rich men to be couetous.

Indeede quoth the Angler, you say well, Mediocria fir­me: better be walking in the high-way, then building Ca­stles in the ayre, or seeking Lobstars in the Sea: but let me talke with you further of angling. Say that Beggery had found out ambition, and laying a plot for his possession, ne­uer thought of honestie, till his villany were at an end, whē the bewitching of an idle eare, may breed the losse of an ad­dle head: what say you to this angling? I say, quoth the Scholler, while the Peacock is gazing at his trayne, the Foxe wil be knitting of his hose-garters. Well sir quoth the Angler, sith I see you so merry with this metaphoricall kind of fishing, I will tell you a little of the Fantasticall. This last kinde of angling is onely in conceit, where wit lacking vnderstanding, layeth his baite in a dreame, to [Page] catch a foole, when he is awake: as when an ouer-wéening spirit of his owne power, wil compasse the course of the sea­uen starres, with staring only at the Moone, and so looseth the benefite of his studie. Oh sir quoth the Scholler, such a one was he that hauing a Deere in chase in his sleep, when hee waked, found that a Calfes head and the brames, gaue but a Huntsman and his dogge theyr dinner.

Well sir, quoth the fisherman, there is another fantasti­call angling, called Quasi, as if it were: As a mad fellowe in a poeticall furie, imagining he had a Mistres, made loue to his conceit. Oh quoth the Scholler, I know such a fel­low, as making verses of Venus, who was better acquain­ted with the black Smith, forgetting his better businesse, and gaining nothing by his idle labour, found he had béene better to haue kept his wits fasting, then to cesen his belly of his breakefast. Well, quoth the Angler, what say you to him that baytes his hooke with a fained Ague, to steale fa­uour from Pitty. Indeed quoth the scholler, when women were wont to be kind-harted, conceits in men were verie feuourous: and who could be so pittilesse, as to see the con­swaption of a kinde humor, for a word of little good mea­ning. But nowe a dayes I hope there are no such men, knowing the nature of the femall sexe, giuen rather to loue a strong body, then a strong breath, and a good purse, then a faire tale. Wel said sir quoth the Angler, but what think you of him that angleth for authoritie, with a deuised coun­tenaunce of counterfeit maiestie. I thinke quoth the schol­ler, that Fisherman to bee the Asse in the Lyons skinne, whom the Foxe with long flattery leading to fear the wolfe from his borrough, no sooner heade the Owle sounde her Trumpet, but he threw off his proud couer-paine, and ran home to his old Crib, like a tale souldiour at a course Man­chet. Well sir quoth the Angler, but what say you of him that angleth for a Budget in the high-way? Oh sir, quoth the Scholler, such open-eyed sléepers, ere they bee well [Page] broade awake, may hap to be hangd for their dreame. In good earnest sir, quoth the Angler, I can not but smile at your pleasant aunswers: But since I see the Sunne dra­weth downe apace, and I feare we shall haue shorter time of conference, then may be I hope with both our good ly­kings, I will no further trouble you with these kinds of anglings: but after that I haue tolde you of the nature of some fishes, I will tell you a little tale of the choosing of their King. Sir, quoth the Scholler, you kindnes being such as expects no ceremonies in courtesie, let it suffice you, that what I friendly receaue, I will thankfully requite, which if I cannot as I would, I wil deserue as I may. Sir quoth the Angler, to make no long haruest of a little corne, I will tell you touching the nature of fishes, I finde this by experience, that the Porpuse sildome playes, but it is a signe of foule weather. True, quoth the Scholler, a gentill Prognosticator, for him that is weary of his life:

The Whale is neuer hurt, but he makes his will on the shore.

Good: where his Oyle is better for the Merchant, thē his body was for the Mariner.

The Herings sildom scull, but in a thick misty morning.

A wholsom kind of meat, like the aire that he delights in.

The Mackrell brings in Sommer, for he comes but in May.

Like a Nosegay of flowers, that is no longer sweet then it is new gathered.

The Stockfish must be beaten, yea: and then quoth the Scholler, it makes a iolly messe of brewes.

The Cunger must be sowst, and the Eele in a Spechcock, or els they are not in their kind: In déed, quoth the Schol­ler, a raw Shrimp, and a burned Oyster, are no very plea­sant dishes to disgest: But me thinks this is but the nature of their dressings: You say well, quoth the Angler, for in déede all fishes are by nature windy: watry you would say, quoth the Scholler, for I am sure take them out of the wa­ter except it be hote water, & the wind will doe them little good: No, quoth the Angler, I meane winde in another [Page] sence: Oh you meane eyther bréeding of the chollicke, or blowing of the backpipe, but a good cup of Sack, will kill the malice of a red Herring: but Sir since, to tell you true, I take no great care of their conditions, hauing a stomack of that disgestion, that was neuer afraide of a raw Oyster. I pray you let mee heare your tale of the choosing of theyr King: Sir, quoth the Angler, as I haue heard it I will tell you: in the vnknowne deepes, of the wonderfull wa­ter, called the neuer séene Sea: when fishes could speake, and waues carried newes to the banckes of the earth to mocke the babies of the world, it was a noise in the ayre, that if there were not a King in the water, Frogs would eate vp the fishes, where-vpon poore fooles holding an opi­nion, that wonders might come to passe, fell to a counsaile among them selues, how to choose a King for their comfort. For a little time great hold and show was among them, in so much that there was a great feare of ciuill warres to grow among them. Some would haue the Whale for his greatnes, some the Dolphin for his swiftnes, other the Sword-fish for his stoutnes: but when the Whale was séene vnwildy, though hee were great, the Dolphin was too nimble to trust to, and the Sword-fish too dangerous to dwell by: they no sooner saw the Herring come with his million of attendants, but his readines to beare them com­pany, at all times, and at all seruices, made them with ge­nerall consent to goe of his side, & so he receaued his tytle: But among the slow fishes that sliding low by the water, could make no hast to the Court, came, the Plaise with a pied coate: who had no little hope, that his cost would pur­chase him great honour: But béeing met by the way, by one that either pittied his expence, or laught at his folly, he was told he might returne home againe, as he came: for the King was chosen, & allowed. Who (quoth the Plaise) the Whale, no: why so? He was vnwildy, the Dolphin? no, and wherefore? He was too nimble: the Sword-fish? [Page] no: for what cause? He was too quarrelsome: the Codde? neither: for what fault? He gaped so wide, his throat was full of flyes: who then? The Herring: Herring (quoth the Plaise) wrying his mouth so in scorne, that he could ne­uer since set it straite. And reason (quoth the Scholler) when a foole in a pyed coate, will be putting for a king­dome: he must haue his mouth, or his necke, or somwhat stand awry euer after.

But Sir, for your tale I thanke you, for I haue heard it often, but not in this manner. But I pray you Sir let me intreate you, to tell me a little of the properties, and ser­uices of the fishes, especially, such Riuer fish as you take pleasure to angle for. I will tell you (quoth the Angler) for Sea-fish, I haue not beene acquainted with many: but so farre as I can speake I will tell you mine opinion. My iudgement is that the Porpuse is like a Swine, a great deuourer of Sprats, that makes him in taste so like a red Herring: and beeing serued at a table, he is a good grosse dish, for a course stomack. Olde Ling without musterd, is like a blew coate without a Cognisaunce, and a péece of Gréene-fish with Sorrell sawce, is no meane seruice in an Alehouse. A Whiting is so old a Courtier, that he cannot loose the credite of his seruice: Fresh Sammon, Sturge­on, and Conger, are no victuals for poore people, especially for weake stomacks, that must haue wine for their disge­stion. Oysters are stirring meate, especially with the help of an Onion: Mussles, and Lobstars, Crabs, and Tor­tus, are dangerous for Agues: Smelts are good for wo­men with child, and Shrimps are pretty picking meate, for idle people after dinner: now for Riuer fish which we cheefely call Fresh-fish. The Pike is so rauenous, that he will destroy a whole pond, and eate vp his fellow Pick­rell: mary the Pearch is so backed, that he dare not med­dle with his bristles: the Carpe féedes most in the night: the Eele euer stirs most after a raine, and the Tench is the [Page] only Surgeon for al the Brooke: But for Roches, Bleaks, Dase, and such like, they are such little fooles, that against euery little shower, they will be caught with a Fly, For their seruices, a Pike in broath, a Carpe baked, an Eele rosted, a Tench sowsed, a Swelt fried, and a Shrimp new sodden, are serued in their best kindes: but of all fishes, fresh, or salt, whatsoeuer opinion is held of dainty tastes. The Herring is he that passeth Towne and Countrey for a good fellow: and thus much for my knowledge in fishing. Now for the cause that first led me into the delight of this kinde of angling, I will tell you. When I found the sub­stantiall angling, with the golden hooke, was sometime deuilish: the Metaphoricall with the conceited hooke, was often knauish, & the fantasticall, with the dreaming hooke, was foolish. I thought it better liuing, as I doe not farre hence, to walke from my house hether to the water side: and angle for a dish for my supper, then runne into the Towne I knowe not among whom, to gape like a Cods­head, or so practise with a knaues head, that I may feare the deuill in my conscience, ere I haue halfe made my market for my dinner. In déede sir, quoth the Scholler, you say well: for when I was a Scholler in the Uniuer­sitie, many yeares a goe: mee thought solitarines was a sweete life, it did so auoide occasions of euill: but leauing my study, and falling into a little trauaile, I haue runne into such a world of varieties, that finding all vanities but vertue, I had rather walke as I doe somtime, to contem­plate the hopes of the blessed, then to runne vp and downe among the confusions of the wicked. Truly sir, quoth the Angler, I am glad to heare a Scholler make so good a be­nefite of his study: as hauing escaped the snares of the de­uill, as it seemes you haue, that you are so adicted to serue God, as I hope you doe: but since you haue beene both a Scholler and a trauailer, I beseech you let mee be behol­ding to you, for a little both of your learning & experience.

[Page] Sir, quoth the Scholler, to acquaint you a little with my learning, you shall vnderstand, that after such time as I had passed the Punies forme, that I had gone through the rules of my Grammer, reade ouer a little Poetry, and knew the grounds of Logick, I fell to the study of Philo­sophy, where finding Nature such a Mistres, and Reason such a Maister, that they could not agrée without patience, I tooke no little delight to note the deuiding of the quarrell. Furthermore I found such secrets by obseruation, as I would not haue missed for a mountaine: As how, I pray you, quoth the Angler? Mary, quoth the Scholler, I will tell you: touching the quarrell first I will tell you. It is in the rules of Philosophy, that contraries cannot at one time be in one subiect: which we see otherwise doe fall out in a man, that warmes his hands, and cooles his pottage, and all with one breath. Yea, quoth the Angler, so a knaue may flatter his Maister, and abuse his friend, and all with one tongue: but what of that? I pray you goe on: howe decide you the quarrell? I will tell you, quoth the Schol­ler, by onely Magis, and Minus, for in respect of the cold, it is warme, and in respect of the fire it is cold. Oh, quoth the Angler, I vnderstand you by a Candle: which in the dark giues a pretty light, but in the Sunne it goes out. True, quoth the Scholler, so is a foole held wise, among wits of weake vnderstanding: but in the iudgement of discretion, he is quickly decided. Now the next point that I learned in naturall Philosophy, was this: Naturam expellas fur­ca, licet, vsque recurret: That which is bred in the bone, will neuer out of the flesh. In déede, it is hard to turne black into any other colour: Kat after kinde will be euer good Mouse hunt. In déede, quoth the Angler, a Iack-daw is neuer like a Tassell-gentill: but by your leaue, what was your next note? This, quoth the Scholler, Contra princi­pia non est disputandum: Which is this in effect. There is no disputing against principles. Oh, quoth the Angler, you [Page] meane with Princes, and good reason, for their pretoga­tiues are great, and therefore their powers must be abso­lute, their displeasure feared, and their wills obeied. In deede, quoth the Scholler, you say true, he is higher min­ded, then witted, that will contend with his superiors: but that is not the sence of this sentence. There be some Ras­calls called Athiests, that will dispute against the maiesty of God. Oh, quoth the Scholler, leaue them to the mercy of the deuill: and as you say hee that is so conceited of his wit, as to goe from all good vnderstanding, let him goe hang himselfe in his own Schoole, and God blesse me from his learning. Amen, & me to, quoth the Scholler: but now to an other point: A particulare ad generale: non est tenen­da ratio: Though one man be true harted, euery knaue is not to be trusted. No, quoth the Angler, for one Swal­low makes not Sommer: the Priest may be an honest man, and yet many a knaue in the Parish: and Uirgine wax is for Christmas lights, which is not solde by euery Chandler. True, quoth the Scholler, some men growe wealthy with good conscience, but it is not generall in these dayes. But to leaue these Sentences, I will tell you further of my learning. I finde by my reading, that man was compounded of the foure Elements, of fire, water, earth, and ayre. How, quoth the Angler, is it possible? The fire drinke vp the water, and the earth dry vp the aire, and when they are consumed, what is left to make man of.

Oh sir quoth the Scholler, I thus vnderstand the foure Elements, Choller, Fleame, Blood, and Melancholie. Indeede qd. the Angler, I thinke you say true, a chollerick fellow, will be angrie with his owne shadowe: and a fleg­matick woman, hath her nose euer dropping: a melancho­lie foole, is like a dreame of a dry Sommer: and a sanguine faced youth, wil bléede at the nose if he see a faire woman. Oh sir quoth the scholler, you speake merrilie, but let mee tell you, the chollerick man is soone augrie, and soone plea­sed: [Page] the flegmatick, is a better land man then a sea man: the sanguine, is a fine Courtier: and the melancholie, a great studient. Iust quoth the Angler: the chollericke is like a hastie pudding, soone hote, soone cold: the flegmatick is like a Culles, consumed into ielly: the sanguine like a Cherrie tart, that would say come eate mee, ere I came at it: and the melancholie, like a browne loafe that had beene halfe burnt in the baking. Truely sir quoth the Scholler, I haue not often heard such descant vpon a plaine song: but let mée tell you, that without the knowledge of these grounds, it is hard for the Phisition to minister cure of a disease. Well quoth the Angler, what soeuer you note by your reading, this I finde by obseruation, that fire is good in Winter, and water in Sommer, ayre sweet in y^e spring, and earth most comfortable in the haruest: and good chéere and honest company, makes a merry hart, and a sound bo­die. I like not to study too farre into Nature, to forget God, or to confound reason: indeede if Phisitions cannot iudge of simples, they may thinke of Com, but they shall come by few pounds. But yet for all my iesting, I pray you goe on with your good instructions.

Well sir then qd. the scholler, the next was this, Naru­ra semper gignit sibi similem: an Eagle neuer hatcht an Owle, nor of a Lyon came a Monkie. True qd. the Schol­ler, a bird is commonlie knowne by his feather, for euerie long bill is not a Woodcock. No quoth the Angler that is true, and yet maister Constable may be wealthy, and his sonne an vnthrift. Oh quoth the scholler, hee may perhaps take after the Mother, who did eate vp her Creame when she should haue kept it for Butter: but to tell truth, a Grey­hound and a Mastiffe neuer bréede but a mungrell. But I will tell you further of my notes: I learne the propertie, qualitie and effect of manie things, as first and chiefelie of Man. Reason is proper to euery man, honestie to many a man: now reason with honestie, effects credite with com­mendation.

[Page] Well said qd. the Angler, and contrariwise, a man may haue reason to enrich himselfe, but if his qualitie be to be a thiefe or a Traytor, the effect will be shame and hanging, if he chaunce to scape hell after. Uery true quoth the scholler: but now in other things, as in Corne, to grow is the property, to make bread his quality, and his effect is our nouriture. But quoth the Angler, if the ground be not well tilled, the seed well fowne, and the dow well kneaded, you may happen as good be fasting, as to keepe your sto­macke for a loafe: but what say you of quantitie? Indeed quoth the Scholler you say true: a good quantitie of monie, will help to grace a little wit, but I haue seene one no high­er then a horse-loafe, wiser then a world of wormes-meat. But indéede according to the quantitie of your Roses, you must looke for your sweet water from your Still. Oh sir quoth the Angler, you meane according to the quantitie of your wit, you must looke for the sweete of your inuentions. Sir quoth the scholler, how soeuer my inuentions are, I am sure yours are so quicke, that if I were againe to goe to schoole, I would be glad of such a Maister. Well qd. the Angler, flattery is an idle poynt of Rethoricke, and there­fore, I pray you let me intreate you to giue me leaue to bee merry with you, and craue a few of your notes vppon your Morrall philosophy. Sir quoth the scholler, in briefe, with thanks for your kindnes, I will graunt your request: My first note was, that Omnes sibi melius esse male quā alterio: Euery man had rather be his owne friende then his neigh­bours. Oh qd. the Angler, but that is a rule against good fellowship.

Why so, quoth the scholler, I think he that will not pro­uide for his owne breakefast, can hardly bid his friende to dinner. Well sir quoth the Angler, what say you to your sentence in this sence? A young louer in a cold night, gaue his wench his cloake, and went himselfe in his doublet in the raine. I say quoth the scholler, loue is deerer then lyfe, [Page] and therefore, shée beeing the summe of his harts ioy, hee preferred his Mistres before himselfe, according to the cu­stome of kinde harts. Oh quoth the Angler, such Louers in deede are pretty fooles, like the bird that flies in the ayre, and suffereth his henne, to hatch her egges on his backe, while hee flies vp and downe, for meat for her dinner. But in deede to tell you truth, neerer is my skin then my coate, and that is the plaine sence of your sentence. Well then qd. the scholler, to goe on with another note: Erustra sapit qui non sapit sibi: He is a foole for all his wit, that is not wise for himselfe. Indeed quoth the Angler, he that will till his neighbours ground, before he hath done with his own, may happen to haue Corne in the fielde, when other haue theyr haruest in the Barne. Indeed sir quoth the Scholler, hee that doth for other, for I thanke you, till hee say to himselfe I beshrew you, he may haue more kinde wit, then commo­dious vnderstanding: but by your leaue, among many that haue béen studients in this course of instructiou, I finde one notable vile creature, whose philosophy I may rather call mortall then morrall, his notes are so full of poyson, to the spirit of all good disposition: and this good old Gentleman, his name was Machauile.

Oh quoth the Angler, a vengeance of all villaines, I thinke there was neuer such another, hee hath left such de­uiltish lessons to the worlde, that I thinke hee will hardlie come at heauen. I pray you sir, quoth the Angler, let mee intreate you to recite some of them. I will tell you sir qd. the scholler, among many notes that I tooke ont of diuers places of his discourses, I remember this was one of the first: That it was good for a man of conscience to kéep the bands of his oath: and yet when pollicie may purchase a good purse, an oth hath béen ventered for a lesse matter then a million. Ang. O bace companion, a fit steward for the deuill, to bring soules into hell. A gentle instruction to per­swade a couetous spirite, to bring the body and soule to de­struction. [Page] But by your leaue, he that will venture his own soule, shall haue nothing to doe with my bodie. Wel, what was the next note? Mary quoth the Scholler, that Fa­thers in their gouernment should be feared of theyr Chyl­dren: But quoth the Angler, I am not of his minde in that poynt: for loue bréedes more assurance then feare dooth cō ­fort. But what els? Sch. That it is good for Maisters to be bountifull to their seruaunts, were it not, that Keepers will say, that fatte hounds will hunt but lazilie. Yea quoth the Angler, such lessons as these, driues so many poore ser­uing men, that pay for their owne liueries, to runne on the skore for their breakefasts. But I pray you what more? Sch. That he that will not curtsie to a Milstone, make mu­sick to an Owle, daunce trenchmore with an Ape, and fall to wonder at a Wether-cocke, may hope after nuts, and pick on shells for his comfort.

Tush man qd. the Angler, are these of his notes? Not in these wordes, but to this effect aunswered the Scholler. Indeede quoth the Angler, now that I doe remember mée, I thinke he that can carry a Ring in his mouth, a booke vn­der his arme, a penne in his eare, and a knife in his pocket, may hap to make himselfe good chéere, when better minds may misse their dinner: but on with your notes I pray you. Sir quoth the Scholler, I will tell you, I red in certaine notes of a scholler of his, that a man that will thriue in the world, must haue his eye vpon one, his hand vpon another, his foote vpon the third, and his tongue for the fourth: but hée must not set his hart vpon any of them: for if he grow in loue with a woman, or in league with a friend so farre, that he commit his secrets to his keeping, his head is vnder an others girdle, his purse at an others commaund, and his wits in an others keeping: and then, for lack of a little dis­cretion, he may euen goe currant for a foole. Oh this was a pretty scholler at the deuills Alphabet, quoth the Angler, was not Timon of Athens one of the fathers of his church? [Page] who gaue counsaile to the afflicted to hang themselues for their comfort. I thinke he was quoth the scholler: but God blesse euery good spirit from such a wicked kind of humor: But to goe on, I red further, that it was no little proofe of wit, to finde out a prodigall heire to vse him like a younger brother: and if there were euer a Lawyer of a large con­science, what a bribe might doo for a conueiance. Oh quoth the Angler, the pillary is a sit window for such villaines to looke out at. But are these the best notes that you remem­ber in his studie? Not the best quoth the scholler, nor the worst, but as they come into my head, I tell you them. I pray you sir quoth the Angler, haue you not beene a little red in historiographie, or doo you not remember anie pretty accident that hath fallne out in your trauaile, which in the discourse of your kindnes might doe well to entertaine the tyme with?

Trulie quoth the Scholler, I was neuer any great hi­storian, neither hath my trauaile beene long, yet haue I seene more then I haue read: but of eyther, as time will giue mée leaue, I will tell you a little to laugh at. First touching histories, or rather indeed fained tales, as good as fables, I red in a booke whose Author I haue forgotten, a discourse of a man whose name I found not written, but sith the matter is somewhat fresh in memory, I will as neere as I can recite it, and thus it was. There was an old man of more age then grace, who hauing spent all his youth in byrding, fell in his elder yeeres to Conny-catching, but when the arest of Time, brings the long day to a darke night, that no coine coulde make excuse, for none appea­rance vpon the sommon, Death would be satis-fied with no aunswere, but depart: thys old fellow, hauing a young son, much after the gréedy humor of his grosse Sire, before hee ended his life, close at his bedds side deliuering him vp the keyes of his Coffers, left him thys lessen for a farewel: My boy qd. he, if thou wilt be wise and take heede, I leaue thee [Page] enough to keepe thee like a man, and therefore looke to thy selfe, for when thy money is gone, thou maist goe hang thy selfe for any helpe thou shalt haue of thy friends, flatter thee as many as list, as there be knaues enough in the worlde, to finde out a foole ere he be halfe bred: but marke wel my words, make much of mony, for tis a iewell in these daies. If thou haue land and mony, a faire house, and a good purse, then, if thy nose stood in thy forehead, and thine eyes in thine elbowes, thy head like a paued causie betweene two thinne growne hedges, nere a good tooth in thy head, good word in thy mouth, nor good thought in thy hart, yet if thou hast thy purse well lined, thou shalt haue prayers of the begger, a curtsie of thy follower, welcom of thy friend, and perhaps a glaunce of a faire Lady: if not, thou shalt haue a wench that shall ride as merrily to the market, as if she were sette on a side saddle of the best fashion. Nowe, if thy money bee gone, the begger is thy companion, the foole bidds thee welcome to a Pescod, the knaue stands & laughes at thee, and the honest man, perhaps more pitties thée thē releeues thee: the proude man scornes thee, thy vertues are buried, thy name is forgotten, thy qualities are trifles, thy lear­ning but lost, thy wit but folly, and thy honestie put to no vse: thy friend regards thee not, thy wench knowes thee not, and thy foe spares thee not: and thou art left to sorrow to make an end of thy miseries, or by some desperat course to fall into Gods forbid. And therefore my boy make much of thy money, it will bring thee musick when thou art me­lancholie, phisick when thou art sick, & company when thou art solitary. Remember what I say, looke to the maine chaunce: Aurum potabile wil fetch him to life that is halfe dead. Be true to thy Prince for feare of hanging: bee not busie with religion for feare of trouble: striue not with power for feare of a fall, and spende not thy mony for feare to goe a begging: Loe, this is all I haue to say to thée, oh I haue a paine at my hart, and so hée died.

[Page] Why quoth the Angler, did hee neuer bidde him serue God, nor call himselfe on him for comfort? Alas quoth the Scholler, how could he thinke on God, and the deuill al­way so neere him? Well quoth the Angler, wee must not iudge any man, but I woulde be loth to be his halfe at the day of Doome. But I pray you what other pretty history or deuised tale haue you read in some other humor, that may serue the turne to passe away the time withall. Sir quoth the scholler, I haue red many pretty toyes, too tedious at this time to call to memory, but among all I remember one pretty discourse of a Lady and her seruaunt. Oh quoth the Angler, I beléene tis a loue tale, if it be it shall be wel­come. For, to tell you true, though I be in this tyme of my declining youth, an vnfit dauncer in such a Morice, yet let me euer loue musicke, though I cannot tune a virginall: it is a good confirming of my repentance, to héere a president of my imperfection. Then sir qd. the scholler, thus it was, or at least was said to be. In the Iland of ill fortune, where idle heads seeke for fauours, and vertue hath little counte­naunce, where money is the great Monarch, it fell out that in the court of the Duke of Calliflorida, among many crea­tures of woorthy commendation, there was one especiall faire Lady of so honourable a spirit, and excellent a wit, as gaue the wise admiration, in her conference, and the vali­ant, happines in her fauour: this pure Diamond among a number of faire iewels, I meane this kinde of Angelicall creature, among a troope of swéet Ladies, as shee could not but be honoured of many, so was shee especially followed with the affectionate seruice of one woorthy Caualiero, a­boue many other: much there was to bee commended in them both, but let this for my discourse suffice, shee was ex­céeding faire and wise, and he no lesse kinde then trulie va­liant, but as it seemed by that which was written of them, his vnderstanding was inferiour to her wit, whose beautie had the commaund of his resolution.

[Page] Long had this poore Gentleman with the silence of loue followed this princely Lady: who more fauouring his dis­cretion, then reuealing her owne conceite, tooke this occa­sion one faire euening in a pleasant Garden, to single her selfe from company, and in a solitary walke, espying her seruant all alone, met him sodainly at a halfe turne, when putting vp her Maske to salute his reuerence with a word of fauour, as though her comming thether had beene by chaunce, which was done in deede of set purpose, shee en­tertained the time with this spéech.

Sir, quoth she, thus you see the course of the world: each conceite hath his crosse, and a woman a crosse conceite to a thousand. I am snre you little thought, choosing out this solitary walke, for the better passage of your meditations, to méete so vnhappily, and vnlooked for, with the subiect of so much trouble. The poore Gentleman little expecting ei­ther so kinde a companion, or so swéet a speech, with no lit­tle gladnes, made the Lady this aunswere. Good Madam, to make a trouble of comfort, were so vnkinde a constructi­on of happines, as howsoeuer other conceiue of it, I desire not to be acquainted with it: but when the hart of a poore Souldiour, had rather with his sword make way for his Mistres honour, then with his tongue for his owne fauour. Let me humbly perswade so farre with your good discreti­on, that if in the kindnes of your commaund, you will vouchsafe the employment of my seruice, I doe not doubt but that in the proofe of my action, you will easily sée my af­fection, which in the onely hope of your good countenance, shall set vp the rest of my worlds honour: To which short spéech the Lady no lesse quicke witted, then well reade, made him this sodaine aunswere. Oh sir, Souldiours ge­nerally are of that imperious humour, that they had rather commaund a looke then yéeld to a tittle: and in mine opi­nion, if Cupid were now aliue, Mars would cut his bow­string, ere he should doe any good with his arrowes, so [Page] that by want of the company of good spirits, Diana might kéepe alone in the Woods, while Venus might make her will in her Chamber. Truly Madame, aunswered the Knight, I know not what fed the Poets wits, to faine such fables as are written: but for my selfe while in your ver­tue, I behold the obiect of my honour, I will rather diuote my seruice to your worthines, then trouble my selfe with trifles that I dare not trust, as are the fictions of idle heads, or the painted couers of inward imperfections. Sir Knight quoth the Lady, by the little sight of our eye, wee behold a great circuite of the earth: and shall not the spirit of our vn­derstanding through the eye of our minde, behold the light of that truth, that may leade the care of our reason, to the content of onr conceite? I hope the best: and though as a mist may dim the sight of the eye, and dissembling the sence of the mind, yet for that I will try before I doubt, and com­maund before I fauour: let the patience of your discretion attend the pleasure of my employment: and for all courses what soeuer fall out, if I doe you good, be glad, not proud of it, and open not your window to the Sunne, when she hath power to sende her beames through the glasse: and so not entertaining your seruice, till I may acquaint you with my best content: I pray you walke aside for this time: For I sée a Gallant, that I must talke with, and will soone be rid of. The good Knight vnwilliug, by any motion of discontent to put out the fire, that was now in kindling with humble thanks tooke his leaue, and left his Lady to her new Louer: who no sooner came neere her, but obseruing all fine ceremonies, with kissing his hand, in putting off his hat, with a Passa measure pace comming toward her swéet presence, gréetes her with this salutation. Faire Ladie, the Quintescence of your beauties excel­lence, hath so enflamed the spirit of my affection, that ex­cept I haue fauour in your eyes, my hart will surely con­sume to ashes: and therefore if my seruice may haue ac­ceptation [Page] in your contentment, I will not be behind with my good will to execute the office of your commaund. The Lady with a blushing smile at this wise Gentlemans for­mality, made him this quicke and quipping aunswer. Sir, if your new coyned eloquence were not too farre out of the way of mine vnderstanding, I would fit you an aunswere to your motion: but since silence can best talke with wood­den Rethoricke, I pray you sir if you haue any thing to say to me, let me plainely know your meaning: Why, quoth this Whippet, if I should tell you I loue you, and you be­léeue it not, if you beléeue it, and yet regard it not, if you regard it, and yet confesse it not: what shall I be the bet­ter to speake plainliar then I haue reason? Well sir, quoth the Lady, to this aboundance of little wit, if I did like to study vpon such Riddles, I should perhaps trouble my selfe to finde out a fit aunswere for the cipher of reason. But to tell you plaine, your loue I knowe not, your selfe I loue not, your words I regard not, and how you take it I care not: But if you haue any thing to say to any other ende, I will heare you as I thinke good, and aunswere you as I sée cause. Why then Madam, quoth he, to tell you plaine, my Lord your Father saw you out of his window walking with Signor Felio, and vpon the sodaine willed me to come for you. Well sir, quoth the Lady, nothing dismaide at the message, I am ready to attend his pleasure, though I wish he had sent a fitter seruant to mine humour. But to make as short tale as I may sending word by this odde Gallant, that she would forth-with attend his pleasure, calling to her a Gentlewoman, that shee sawe sitting in an Ar [...]our somewhat néere vnto her, taking her in her attendance, a­way shee goes to her good Father, who with a naturall kindnes dissembling his discontent, in suspect of the talk had betwixt her and Don Felio, with a smiling countenance entertained her with this welcome: taking her by the hand, and leading her into his Gallery, he began in priuat [Page] thus to fall in talke with her. My best girle, whom aboue all the children that I haue, I most estéeme in the true ioy of my hart, and well woorthy, for thy good caridge in all courses, as well for thy dutie towards mée, as thy reputa­tion in the world, I must confesse, I neuer had cause to su­spect thy discretion in anie cause of dislike, but if a Fathers care prooue a kinde of iealousie, excuse the error in aboun­dance of loue, and tell me truth to a question that I wil put vnto thee. The swéet Ladie, not willing to delay her Fa­ther with long circumstance, with a modest countenaunce, not once altering her colour, but keeping the care of her wit, intreated his commaundement of her dutie: who in kinde manner made her this speech. I haue béene heere in my Gallary walking most part of this euening, and looking out at one of these windowes, I espied Don Felio all alone, walking a turne or two in the long walke, where hée had béene but a while, when you found him in his Muses, and entertained him, or he you, I knowe not with what confe­rence. The man is one that I loue, and will be gladde to preferre to any honour that he deserueth, but I pray thee tel mée, what was the substance of your talke?

Truely Father, quoth Madam Fianta, for so was her name, I would gladly tell it you if I might presume vpon her patience, and not doubt your displeasure, I will ac­quaint you with asmuch as I can remember. The Duke expecting another matter then she deliuered, with a dissem­bled countenaunce of promised content, willed her boldlie to say her minde. Then good Father quoth the Lady, thus it is: little thinking to find any creature in that walk, whē fingling my selfe from my company, I tooke my Booke of Da plisses in my hand, and meant to contemplate some di­uine contentations, béeing néere vnto him ere I was a­ware, and loth either to disgrace him with entreating his absence, or vpon the suddaine to withdrawe my selfe from his companie, in such good maner as it might well beseeme [Page] him, he saluted me with this spéech. Honourable Ladie, I am sorry that it is my ill happe to become a trouble is your contentiue solitarines: but howe dooth my good Ladie, and your good Father? Him quoth I, in good health I left not long since, and my selfe you sée, not troubled with good cō ­panie: but what shoulde make Don Felio to chuse thys so­lemne place for his solace? Alas Madam, quoth the poore Knight, I dare speake to your Ladiship, who in the pitty of your vertue haue euer béene a good furtherer of all sutes of your Fathers seruants: so ill hath béen my hap, that after the spending of many yeeres, loosing of no little blood, and wasting of some part of my little substance, nowe there is no vse for mée in his warres, to make my aduenture vppon the enemie, my yéeres growing to that height, that I must before the declining of my best age, put my wits to some worke for the better reléefe of my poore carkasse, and main­taining of my meane estate: hauing had a long sute vnto him, which by the crosnesse of my backe friends I am al­most now out of hope to enioy, I am deuising not far hence néere vnto the Cittie, in a large Orchard that I haue be­longing to my house, to set vp an Ape-baiting: which bee­ing a new matter, and neuer in practise, at least, that euer I haue heard in this Countrie, will tole a world of wise peo­ple together, who shall pay euerie one for his comming in, howsoeuer they repent it at their going out: nowe I will tell you in what maner it shall be. I will haue an Ape tied to a great logge, which shall be rounde about besette with Bée-hiues, and when the Ape is sette among them, his na­ture is to catch at any thing that buzzeth in his care, now when on Bée hath béene about him, and hee fall to catch and misse, that Bee will bring another, and that another, till in a little time Iacke will be so stunge, that what with mowing, crying, and skipping, he will make sport enough for a penny. Now before the sport begin, there shall at the enterance into the Garden sitte a blinde man, and a deafe [Page] woman, disputing an argument of loue, and at the further end of the Alley, a Bagpipe and a Gittr [...]n, play Trench­more to a Tinkers dogge. Now will not this doo well for a deuise, to helpe a poore man to a little mony?

Nowe fie Sir, quoth I, lay away this melancholy hu­mour, I will rather be your friend to my Father, and help you to a farre better matter, then you shall purchase by this badde or base inuention: and therefore I pray you to lay a­side your determination in this poynt, till you heare fur­ther from mee of my Father.

The good olde Prince, little thinking his pretty Mon­kie could vpon the suddaine haue deuised this Apish tale, giuing credite to her discourse, made her this ioyfull aun­swere. My deere Fianta, I must confesse, he hath had back-friends in his fortune, yet hath not his desert lien dead in my fauour: for no longer then yesterday, haue I signed, and caused my seale to be set to the graunt of his sute, which to morrow thou shalt giue him, with my purse full of gold, for hée is one that I loue deerelie, how soeuer I make shew of lesse matter: soone at night forget not to come to me for it. And so with a few other good words, left her to her best cō ­pany to her liking: who the next morning, hauing recei­ued her fathers blessing, with his bountifull tokens of fa­uour to his seruant, secretlie sent to the Knight, to meet her in the walke where he left her. The message not a little welcome, made him not long in comming to his déere Mi­stresse, of whō receiuing for the terme of three-score yeeres, the gift of a statelie house, with diuers goodly Lordshippes and Parks to the same belonging, with his purse full of mony, the better to defray his charges, with humble thanks to his gracious Maister, and no lesse to his deere Mistresse, who had thoroughly acquainted him with the course shee had taken for him, according to her secret direction hastend himselfe into the Country, where after a few loue-letters that had passed betwixt them, within a little time the Duke [Page] died, and his daughter (with her dowrie) made a match with her true Knight. Oh fine tale quoth the Angler, made vpon the fingers ends: for it coulde not be but there were many crosse tricks in the Cardes ere the game went about, but you see the time is short, and therefore you doe well to abridge the best. But now Sir, if in kindnes I may, I pray you let mee intreat a little of your trauaile, what you haue noted in your passage to and fro. Sir quoth the Scholler, to tell you a little heere & there what I haue séene and no­ted, I am contented: and therefore to be short, I will tell you in one Country where I came I sawe a strange won­der: for where as in many other Countries men did vse to eate vp the shéepe, in that Country sheep had eaten vp both the men & their houses. For in the pastures, where I sawe great flocks of sheepe féeding, I might néere vnto certaine foote-pathes, behold heere and there a péece of an olde stone causie, which had béen in times past some stréete or by lane, in some Towne or Uillage, but nowe there was neither house nor towne, nor man left, more then the Sheepheard, and his sheepish Maister to looke vpon them: this was one of my first notes. In an other Country I found by y^e spéech of the people, a great alteration of men, for a number of Gentlemen of auncient race, by the wretched course of for­tune, or folly of their owne or theyr friends indiscretion, were gone from the Court to the Cart, and the sonne of What lacke you, was become the onely right worshipfull. This is my second note.

Well Sir quoth the Angler, touching your first note, let me tell you, that the Wethers wooll sticks not in the Gra­ziers teeth, and a good purse with quiet, makes one plough worth two swords. But on I pray you with some more of your notes, for I like these very well. I will tell you quoth the Scholler, in one Country where I came, I sawe the Woods so braue it with great trées, and the Barnes so flo­rish with sheaues of Corne, that a number of poore people [Page] died with hunger and cold. Alas quoth the Angler, that is too common in many Countries: but indeede it is pittie to see such dogged mindes among Christians, or at least, such as make profession of Christianitie: but on I pray you with your discourse. In an other Country quoth the Scholler, I saw one yeere such bloodshed, that there hath béen warres there euer since. Alas quoth the Angler, the massacre in Paris can be your witnesse for that truth: where the deuill and the Pope made the Duke of Guise the chiefe murthe­rer. In another Country quoth the scholler, I sawe men giuen so to drinke, that God to punish theyr sinne, drowned a great part of the Land.

You say true, quoth the Angler, they that poure so much liquor into their owne bellies, deserue to haue some water in their beds: but procéede I pray you. In an other Coun­trey I saw many pretty accidents, though of no great im­portance, yet worth the noting: of which one I remem­ber, which I am perswaded will make you smile to heare, if at the least I can hit neere the manner of it, as I heard it. I pray you hartily quoth the Angler, let me be behol­ding to you for it. Not so, quoth the Scholler, but to con­tent your kindnes, thus it was. Hauing trauailed long vp­pon a rainy day, and after a weary iourney beeing some­what wet, come into mine Inne, beeing brought into the Parlour to mine Hoast, who it séemed by his shéepe-furd short gowne, to be the Officer for the Parish, I meane the pinching of bread, and nicking of pots, besides, priso­ning of theeues, carrying beggers to the stocks, and wat­ching of the Towne at midnight, that it ranne not ouer the bridge, for lacke of a gate to kéepe it in before morning, and keeping the kay of the Cage, and the Cucking-stoole, after the manner of some formall Constable: this substan­tiall Yeoman, who as it should seeme to be the Sonne of some Flesh-monger, as Muttons, Béefes, and such like commodious kinde of Beasts, who together with his In­kéeping, [Page] and the helpe of Maide Marian, a good Hostes to draw on gesse, could with his grosse nodle, making a night gowne of an Oxe-hide, kéepe himselfe warme in a colde Winter, and purchase not onely the house that he dwelt in, for this young Gentleman his biggest Sonne, but some olde Ruddocks for his young Roiles, hauing brought vp this his heire for sometime at the free Schoole, and a little before his death put him to the Uniuersity, made this ci­pher of wisedome, to obserue his Fathers rule, in the edu­cation of a Sonne of his, who a little after my comming in, came home to his Father from the Acadeime, as it see­med, being sent for by his Parents, against the Christmas hollidayes, to be posed by Maister Parson: but to be short, after wee had supped, mine Hoast calling for a chaire for himselfe, and an other for me, to enuiron a good warme banke, of Sea-coale fire, few gesse being that night in the house, began to examine his Sonne of his study in this ma­ner. Come hether Sirra, how haue you spent these fiue last yeares, that I haue beene at no little charge with you for your learning? Let me heare you what haue you read, since you gaue ouer your Grammer, and your Cato, and those toyes. Sir, quoth the Boy, with a crooked curtsie, I first read Logick: Logick, quoth the old man, a vengeance on it, what should you doe with it, an onely cunning of wit to play the knaue with a plaine meaning: a proper trick of treason, to maintaine a lye against truth. Well, what next? Forsooth, quoth the Boy Rethorick: iust quoth the old man, an other fine peece of learning to teach a lewd minde to paint out a false tale with faire words: but what more? Forsooth, quoth the Boy, the next was naturall Philosophy. What, quoth hee, doost thou meane to be a Phisition? Use abstinence, and keepe good diet, and care not a pin for the Apothicary. But on with the rest: what else? Forsooth, quoth he, Moral Philosophy: What, quoth the olde man, to learne to léere, and looke bigge, to curtsie, [Page] and kisse the hand, to be at your siluer forke, and your pick­tooth? Sirra, it is not for your Fathers sonne, to trouble his head with these trifles, your Father followes the Cart, and thou art not shaped for a Courtier: but well, is this all: or is there any more yet? Yea forsooth, quoth the yong man, I haue reade a little of Arithmatique: that quoth the olde Sir, I shall finde by the account of your battai­ling: where, if In primis, and Item, make Totalis, aboue allowance, I will take you from your booke, and teach you another profession: but what else? Forsooth quoth hee, I haue a little looked into Musique. How now, quoth his Father, what, art thou mad, to be a Fidler? A head full of Crochets kept neuer wit in good compasse: but on I pray thée with the rest? Forsooth, quoth the Stripling, I haue reade somwhat of Geomatry. Oh quoth the Father, I like that well, thou meanest to saue charges, when thou hast timber of thine owne, thou wilt not be beholding to the Plough-wright: but a little more. What else? For­sooth quoth he, my Tutor was beginning me with Astro­logie. What quoth the olde man, teach thée to goe to Ten­nis with the whole world? No, the ball is too bigge for the best Racket of his braine: but haue you looked nothing in­to Astronomy? Yes forsooth quoth he, and whereto, quoth his Father? To learne to lye in an Almanacke, to cosen fooles with faire weather. But what haue you learned of Diuinity? Forsooth quoth the youth but little as yet, onely a few rules of Cathechising: yea so I thought, quoth olde Twagge? Well, this is a wretched world, to sée how new Schoole-men, haue a new fashion in their teaching: they were wont to teach little children when I went first to schoole, before they learned one letter, to say, Christes crosse be my speede aud the holy Ghost, but nowe among a number, Christ, his Crosse, and his holy Spirit, is so little taught among little schollers, that it is almost forgot a­mong great Maisters. But leauing spelling and put toge­ther, [Page] which is eastlie learned in a Horne-booke, let me tell you some-what of all your studies that you neuer heard yet at schoole, and if you marke it well, perhaps it shall do you no hurt. Begin first with Diuinitie, learne to know God, and know all, know not him, and know nothing: Learne to know him in his power, to loue him in his mercie, to ho­nour him in his goodnes, to beleeue him in his worde, and to confesse him in his glory. Apply this knowledge to your comfort, and be thankfull for your blessing in his grace: know him I say, humbly, loue him faithfully, serue him truly, and pray to him hartily, and so in despight of the de­uill, how euer the world goe with thée, thou shalt be sure of the ioyes of heauen. Now, for your Logick, learne to maintaine a truth, and to confound the contrary: For Re­thorick, onely learne this out of it, that to speake much in a few words, is a good note of a wise Scholler. Now for Arithmatique, it is not amisse in time of hast to make a reckoning quickly: but take héede, that reckoning with­out an Hoast, put not thy purse to a new expence. For Mu­sique, a merry hart is worth tenne crowdes, and a Bag­pipe. And for Philosophy, it is better to vse her effects, then know her secrets: And for Moralities, be not too sawcie with thy betters, nor too familiar with base people, coy to thy friends, nor too kinde to fooles, and with a little obser­uation of times and places, thou shalt be a Philosopher without booke. Now for Geometry, rather learne, and stu­dy to purchase Land, then build houses: for it is a cost will soone decay, and titles in these dayes are tickle holdes to trust to. Now for Astrologie, rather loue a Mole-hill of thine owne, then a Mountatne of thy neighbours: and for Astronimy, rather kéepe thée in the warmth of the Sunne, then follow the shadow of the Moone: and whatsoeuer you learne by the booke, be sure to haue this alwayes by hart: Crumena sine pecunia, quasi corpus sine anima: A purse without money is like a body without a soule: and there­fore [Page] whatsoeuer you remember, forget not your purse, I meane your money: for when I was young, I saw manie doo so much in many things, that there was almost nothing doone, (I meane for worldly matters) without it. I re­member, not a mile from the towne where I dwelt, I saw a swéet young soule married to a sower old Sir, onelie for mony, & hard at the townes end many a proper man make his will vpon the gallowes, and onely for mony. I sawe a knaue that had cosend his father, loose his cares on the pil­lary for many. I saw some drawne, hangd and quartered, for clipping of money. Some misers growe mad to part with their money, and poore beggers starue and die, with lacke of meate and drinke, and money. Why let mée tell thée, if thou doost continue at thy learning, it will paint thy studie, and fornish thee with bookes, it will clothe thy back and féede thy belly, it will guilde thy spéech, and giue fame to thy wit, make roome for thy presence, and kéepe a cushi­on in thy seate: thou shalt sit vppermost at the Table, feede on the best dish, and not be contradicted in thy spéech, but welcome with a world of kindnesse, where wanting that Earths chiefe ornament, thou shalt haue a sachell full of holes, a studie without glasse-windowes, bookes without couers, and a thred-bare Ierken without a cloake, thy belly pincht with lacke of victualls, thy head ake with fruitlesse studie, and thy hart sick with griefe of minde, thy welcome cold in most companies, thy place belowe thy inferiours in worth, shouldered of euery Iack, and sometime stand with out a stoole: and therefore, if thou be a Diuine, get a Be­nefice, if a Phisition, get a sute, if a Geometritian, gette an office of surueying, if whatsoeuer, get mony, and then serue God, and followe what study thou wilt. So the time cal­ling to bed, the old woman loth to wast fire and candle, bad shut vp doores & away: when the good man with a browne loafe gape, and a hey ho at the end of it, betaking me to my chamber, got himselfe to his Goose-rest. Where leauing [Page] him to short with his sow, I heard no more of his good ma­stership, but in the morning, hauing hast of my way, taking order for my charges, gaue a farewell to the flying Ostrich, which was the Armes of his Inkéeping, faire painted vp­pon the signe-post.

Now trulie Sir, quoth the Angler, I thanke you for your merry tale, I thinke hee was some kinsman, or of his race, that you told me you had red of, who at his death left his sonne such a lesson to looke to his money. I thinke Sir quoth the Scholler, they were birds of one feather, though they liued not at one time: but it is strange to sée somtime, what sharpnes of wit a man shall méete with in such a bald noddle. You say true Sir quoth the Angler, but it is pittie that euer good Wine should come into a fustie vessell: but might I intreate you for one discourse more, of some acci­dent that you met with in your trauaile, and so with the set­ting of the sunne I will take vp mine angle, and intreate your company to my poore house, where hauing béen a schol­ler & a trauailer, I hope you will take your welcome with a few dishes. Sir quoth the scholler, for one discourse more I will not denie you, but for my trouble at your house, I must intreate your pardon for this night, to morrow it may be, I will waite on you as I come by you: for this night I am inuited at the Kéepers of the great Parks, where ha­uing past my word, I would keepe my promise.

Sir, quoth the Angler, vse your discretion, now to mor­row, or at an other time, your welcome is set downe, and your company desired, and therefore I beseech you, while I shall enioy the benefite of your good companie, let me be beholding to you for your discourse. Then Sir, you shall vnderstand quoth the Scholler, that in the time of my tra­uaile, comming (by occasions) as well into the Pallaces of Princes, as the cottages of poore people, it was my hap, yea I may well say, that vnder heauen it was my greatest hap­pines that of this worlde I euer founde, to light into the [Page] courtlike house of a right worthy honourable Lady, the de­sert of whose commendations, far exceeding the stile of my study, I must leaue to better wits to dilate of, while I poore­lie speake of the little world of my wonder. For in her eye was the seate of pittie, in her hart the honour of vertue, and in her hand the bounty of discretion: to see her countenance the comfortlesse, argued a diuine spirit, to heare her speak, which was neuer idle, prooued an oracle of wit, to beholde her presence, might speake of a miracle in nature: to bee short, except Plato, I knew no such philosopher: except the excepted, I meane the Lady of Ladies in this world, the honour of women, and wonder of men, the teacher of witt, and the amazer of the wise, the terrifier of the proude, and the comforter of the oppressed, the beautie of Nature, the wonder of Reason, and the ioy of honour: the hand-maid of God, the heauenly creature of the Earth, and the most wor­thie Queene in the world, the princely Goddesse, or diuine Princesse, the gracious soueraigne of the blessed Iland of England: except I say this sun of the earths skie, I knowe not a starre of that state that can compare light with thys Lady: while her thoughts keepe the square of such discreti­on, that no idle humour dare enter the list of her conceit. What praise can be giuen to that spirit, that hath so ordered the carefull course of her sences? she doth all things as shee did them not, and vseth the world as shee esteemed it not, Honour is her seruaunt, Uertue is her loue, Truth is her studie, and Meditation is her exercise: yet is shée affable, with such curtesie, as winnes honor in humilitie: to make an abridgement of her prayses, in a few words of her woor­thines, let this suffice, that Nature and Wit, Uertue and Honour, Pitty and Bounty, Care and Kindnesse, haue so wrought together in the perfecting of a peerelesse creature, that I may bite my tongue, and burne my penne, lay vp my little wits, and wish for a more diuine spirit, to enter into the conceit of her desert, ere I further shew my weak­nesse, [Page] to speake of the wonder of her commendation. But a­mong many good parts, whereof her praise is top ful, I wil tell you one action, and not the least, that fell out in my time of attendance on her fauour: Her house beeing in a maner a kind of little Court, her Lorde in place of no meane com­maund, her person no lesse then worthily and honourablie attended, as well with Gentlewomen of excellent spirits, as diuers Gentlemen of fine cariage, besides all other ser­uants, each of such respect in his place, as well might giue praise to the Gouernours, where honor setteth rules of such discretion. It might perhaps seeme teadious, to set downe the truth of such perticulers as deserued a generall cōmen­dation, where first, God daily serued, religion trulie prea­ched, all quarrels auoyded, peace carefully preserued, swea­ring not heard of, where truth was easilie beléeued, a table fully furnished, a house richly garnished, honor kindly en­tertained, vertue highly estéemed, seruice well rewarded, and the poore blessedly relieued, might make much for the truth of my discourse, while Enuie can but fret at her con­fession: but least in blowing at a coale I doo but put out the fire, and obscure her praise, that may bee pend by a better spirit, let this suffice for the sum of my speech, that where the eye of honour, did set the rule of gouernment, kindnesse was a companion in euery corner of the house: now, to this little Earths kind of Paradise, among many sundry kinde of people, came by chaunce a poore Gentleman in the ruine of his fortune, by the deuise of a close conueyance of an ima­gined friend brought in, hauing more wit then discretion, in the nature of a good foole, to giue this Lady cause of laugh­ter: who no sooner sounded the substance of his wit, but with the deepe eye of her rare iudgement, percing into the hum­ble vertue of his spirit, pittying his fortune, and perceiuing his want, made vse of his seruice in a better sence, and in the diuine nature of her blessed spirit, determined the mean of his aduauncement. With her countenaunce she graced [Page] him, with good words she fauoured him, with her bountie, shee relieued him, and would suffer no man to hurt him: for séeing honestie want maintenaunce, and vertue oppressed with malice, she did not like a helping hand to fill vp a halfe penny purse with a poore reckoning, but like herselfe in the absolute power of her honourable spirit, shée comforted the afflicted minde, reuiued the hart halfe dead, and as it were drawne out of the ditch of misery, sette the spirite in the warme sunne of Gods blessing. Thus did this Princesse entertaine thys poore Gentleman, till by the faction of the malicious, the delightfull working of the enuious, & the de­sart of his owne vnworthinesse, finding in the deceiuing of this his bright sun, the sinking of his too happy fauour, sup­ping vp his sorrowe to himselfe, taking leaue for a time, to trauaile about a little idle busines, in a cold snowy day pas­sing ouer an vnknowne plaine, not looking well to his way, or beeing ordained to the misery of such mis-fortune, fell so déepe downe into a Saw-pitte, that hee shall repent the fall while hee liues: for neuer since daring to presume, but in prayers to thinke on his faire Princesse, and liuing in poore Cottages, to looke towards that Court-like pallace, he hath gone vp & downe like a shadowe without substance, a purse without money, and a body without a spirit.

For euer since, as he hath often told me, if he haue come among men, it hath beene like a Faire of rude people, com­pared to the sweet company of that house, if in the company of women, like a meeting of Gossips, in respect of the gra­cious spirits of the sweete creatures of that little paradice: and if by chaunce in his weary passage, hee hath had any priuate conference, with some espetiall bird of the Coun­trey, yet for all the best notes that euer he heard, they were all Sparrowes to his Nightingale. For according to the dispositions of their minds, hee might see the weakenes of their spirits: as some would talke of nothing, but the new fashion, pinning of ruffes, starching rebaters, the Outlan­dish [Page] tire, and the long bodies: the fine stuffe, and the pret­tie pinke, the Lawne shadow, and the cutworke Lace: o­ther of the pyed Cow, the bay Horse, the black Sheepe, and the branded Pig: another? her Malt in the Kill, her Oates in the scuttle, and her Rye in the sheafe, her Cheese in the presse, and her Butter in the cherme. Now with this ga­limawfrey of such good matter, as filled his eares with more sound then good sence, must he satis-fie his sorrowfull hart, that, when it got him alone by him selfe, with calling to minde the excellent matter, that in variety of methode he had often heard from the mouth of his Minerua, would so fall into a sighing, that had not the heauens the better blest it, it would surely haue burst asunder. For, say quoth he, that though some few I found of extraordinary good spi­rits, yet among a number of these Countrey daunces, I did light on such a Galiard, as had a trick aboue Trenchmour, and could speake more to the purpose, then many of the wiues of the Parish, who hauing red many English books, could tell pretty tales of idle people, yet compare this Chri­stall with my Diamond, she would quickly shew her dun­nes: and among all other things, if by the reuenue of a pretty Dairy, she could priuily put vp three pence to spend at a blind bridaile, if perhaps in a good humour, she had a minde to pleasure a poore friend, it would come so dropping out of her fingers, as though it hoong at her hart blood: and then perhaps with such a lesson to it, to take heede of vn­thriftines, with a shrug of the shoulders at the hardnes of the world, that it would breake the hart of a good minde, to thinke on the misery of such Almes.

And then calling to mind the golden showres of his La­dies fauours, bled inwardly in the hart, with such drops of vnseene teares, as makes him like Adam out of Paradice, hope of no happines, till hee come at heauen: Or like the [Page] Phenix, liue in ashes, till he may get life by the vertue of his bright Sunne againe: and now this is only his world­ly comfort, that she liueth, whom his hart honoureth, and his soule prayeth for, though his vnworthy eye, be abando­ned the blessing of his sences admiration: Who though he liue in the dungeon of sorrowes darknes, will neuer cease prayer to the heauens for his bright Sunnes eternall bles­sednes: and that as her name doth liue onely in the high Meridianis, so her soule may be blessed in the highest Caelis. Alas poore wretch, quoth the Angler, why doe your eyes water your chéekes, at the shutting vp of this discourse? If it be your selfe, be not dismaide, Princes haue gracious spirits, and great powers, who at the time of their plea­sure will comfort patience in misery: and after the woe of a long Winter, giue the fruite of a little Spring, howso­euer hope hit on a good Sommer: and therefore continue thy constancie, in thy prayer to remember the happines of thy harts honour, and feare not, but vertue will one day haue a glaunce of fauour: and therefore if I may aduise thee, let not mal-content bréede a madnes, to driue thee from thy selfe to a worse companion. Serue God, and care not for the world: for I am perswaded, that shee that is made of so many exceedings, cannot but at her good time make thée happy in her comfort, who though a while shee shut vp the hand of her bounty: yet will send thée a little of that Quintescence, that will saue thée from a deadly swound, howsoeuer sorrow possesse thée. And therefore be her bead-man in thy prayers, till she make imployment of thy further seruice. And now since I see the Sunne growes so low, as will scarse giue vs light to our lodging: let me at this parting challenge your promise, that to morrow you will visite my poore cabine: which with all kindnes that I can deuise, shall be alwayes with my selfe at your com­maund. Thus with harty thanks each to other, with a few good words of either side, taking a kinde leaue, the Angler [Page] takes vp his hooke, & away they part from the Riuer side. From whence when they were gone in a manner out of sight, a certaine odde Diogenes of the world, like a forlorne creature on the earth, throwne lately out of the fortune of his Mistres fauour, getting a Paper-booke vnder his arme, and a penne and Inke vnder his girdle, in a melancholike humour, meaning to trouble the Muses, with some dole­full Ballad, to the tune of all a greene willow, sitting downe on a little mole-hill, among a thick growne plot of Ozters vnseene, in steede of his intended peece of Poetry, writ as fast as he could this dis­course that hee heard betwixt this Angler, and the Scholler.