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.

Venator. Well sung, master; this day s fortune and pleasure, and the
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 himself from talking with me that he might be
so perfect in this song; was it not, master?

Piscator. 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 with the help of mine
own invention, who am not excellent at poetry, as my part of the song
may testify; but of that I will say no more, lest you should think I mean,
by discommending it, to beg your commendations of it. And therefore,
without replications, let's hear your catch, scholar; which I hope will be
a good one, for you are both musical and have a good fancy to boot.

Venator. Marry, and that you shall; and as freely as I would have my
honest master tell me some more secrets of fish and fishing, as we walk