  Pisc. Well, Scholar, I have held you too long about these Cadis, and my spirits are almost spent, and so I doubt is your patience; but being we are now within sight of Totenham, where I first met you, and where wee are to part, I will give you a little direction how to colour the hair of which you make your lines, for that is very needful to be known of an Angler; and also how to paint your rod, especially your top, for a right grown top is a choice Commoditie, and should be preserved from the water soking into it, which makes it in wet weather to be heavy, and fish ill favouredly, and also to rot quickly. Take a pint of strong Ale, half a pound of soot, and a like quantity of the juice of Walnut-tree leaves, and an equal quantitie of Allome, put these together into a pot, or pan, or pipkin, and boil them half an hour, and having so done, let it cool, and being cold, put your hair into it, and there let it lye; it wil turn your hair to be a kind of water, or glass colour, or greenish, and the longer you let it lye, the deeper coloured it will bee; you might be taught to make many other colours, but it is to little purpose; for doubtlesse the water or glass coloured haire is the most choice and most useful for an Angler. But if you desire to colour haire green, then doe it thus: Take a quart of smal Ale, halfe a pound of Allome, then put these into a pan or pipkin, and your haire into it with them, then put it upon a fire and let it boile softly for half an hour, and then take out your hair, and let it dry, and having so done, then take a pottle of water, and put into it two handful of Mary-golds, and cover it with a tile or what you think fit, and set it again on the fire, where it is to boil softly for half an hour, about which time the scum will turn yellow, then put into it half a pound of Copporis beaten smal, and with it the hair that you intend to colour, then let the hair be boiled softly till half the liquor be wasted, & then let it cool three or four hours with your hair in it; and you are to observe, that the more Copporis you put into it, the greener it will be, but doubtless the pale green is best; but if you desire yellow hair (which is only good when the weeds rot) then put in the more Mary-golds, and abate most of the Copporis, or leave it out, and take a little Verdigreece in stead of it. This for colouring your hair. And as for painting your rod, which must be in Oyl, you must first make a size with glue and water, boiled together until the glue be dissolved, and the size of a lie colour; then strike your size upon the wood with a bristle brush or pensil, whilst it is hot: that being quite dry, take white lead, and a little red lead, and a little cole black, so much as all together will make an ash colour, grind these all together with Linseed oyle, let it be thick, and lay it thin upon the wood with a brush or pensil, this do for the ground of any colour to lie upon wood. For a Green. Take Pink and Verdigreece, and grind them together in Linseed oyl, as thick as you can well grind it, then lay it smoothly on with your brush, and drive it thin, once doing for the most part will serve, if you lay it wel, and be sure your first colour be thoroughly dry, before you lay on a second. Well, Scholer, you now see Totenham, and I am weary, and therefore glad that we are so near it; but if I were to walk many more days with you, I could stil be telling you more and more of the mysterious Art of Angling; but I wil hope for another opportunitie, and then I wil acquaint you with many more, both necessary and true observations concerning fish and fishing: but now no more, lets turn into yonder Arbour, for it is a cleane and cool place. Viat. 'Tis a faire motion, and I will requite a part of your courtesies with a bottle of Sack, and Milk, and Oranges and Sugar, which all put together, make a drink too good for anybody, but us Anglers: and so Master, here is a full glass to you of that liquor, and when you have pledged me, I wil repeat the Verses which I promised you, it is a Copy printed amongst Sir Henry Wottons Verses, 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 discription of such Country recreations as I have enjoyed since I had the happiness to fall into your company. Quivering fears, heart tearing cares, Anxious sighes, untimely tears, Fly, fly to Courts, Fly to fond wordlings sports, Where strain'd Sardonick smiles are glosing stil And grief is forc'd to laugh against her will. Where mirths but Mummery, And sorrows only real be. Fly from our Country pastimes, fly, Sad troops of humane misery, Come serene looks, Clear as the Christal Brooks, Or the pure azur'd heaven that smiles to see The rich attendance on our poverty; Peace and a secure mind Which all men seek, we only find. Abused Mortals did you know Where joy, hearts ease, and comforts grow, You'd scorn proud Towers, And seek them in these Bowers, Where winds sometimes our woods perhaps may shake, But blustering care could never tempest make, No murmurs ere come nigh us, Saving of Fountains that glide by us. Here's no fantastick Mask nor Dance, But of our kids that frisk, and prance; Nor wars are seen Unless upon the green Two harmless Lambs are butting one the other, Which done, both bleating, run each to his mother: And wounds are never found, Save what the Plough-share gives the ground. Here are no false entrapping baits To hasten too too hasty fates Unles it be The fond credulitie Of silly fish, which, worldling like, still look Upon the bait, but never on the hook; Nor envy, 'nless among The birds, for price of their sweet Song. Go, let the diving Negro seek For gems hid in some forlorn creek, We all Pearls scorn, Save what the dewy morne Congeals upon each little spire of grasse, Which careless Shepherds beat down as they passe, And Gold ne're here appears Save what the yellow Ceres bears. Blest silent Groves, oh may you be For ever mirths blest nursery, May pure contents For ever pitch their tents Upon these downs, these Meads, these rocks, these mountains, And peace stil slumber by these purling fountains Which we may every year find when we come a fishing here. Pisc. Trust me, Scholer, 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 wil requite you with a very good Copy of Verses; it is a farewel to the vanities of the world, and some say written by D'r. D, but let them bee writ by whom they will, he that writ them had a brave soul, and must needs be possest with happy thoughts at the time of their composure. Farwel ye guilded follies, pleasing troubles, Farwel ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles; Fame's but a hollow eccho, gold pure clay, Honour the darling but of one short day. Beauty (th'eyes idol) but a damask'd skin, State but a golden prison, to live in And torture free-born minds; imbroider'd trains Meerly but Pageants, for proud swelling vains, And blood ally'd to greatness is alone Inherited, not purchas'd, nor our own. Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood & birth, Are but the fading blossomes of the earth. I would be great, but that the Sun doth still, Level his rayes against the rising hill: I would be high, but see the proudest Oak Most subject to the rending Thunder-Stroke; I would be rich, but see men too unkind Dig in the bowels of the richest mind; I would be wise, but that I often see The Fox suspected whilst the Ass goes free; I would be fair, but see the fair and proud Like the bright Sun, oft setting in a cloud; I would be poor, but know the humble grass Still trampled on by each unworthy Asse: Rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorn'd, if poor; Great, fear'd; fair, tempted; high, stil envi'd more I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither, Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair, poor I'l be rather. Would the world now adopt me for her heir, Would beauties Queen entitle me the Fair, Fame speak me fortunes Minion, could I vie Angels w'th India, w'th a speaking eye Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike Justice dumb As wel as blind and lame, or give a tongue To stones, by Epitaphs, be call'd great Master, In the loose Rhimes of every Poetaster Could I be more then any man that lives, Great, fair, rich, wise in all Superlatives; Yet I more freely would these gifts resign, Then ever fortune would have made them mine And hold one minute of this holy leasure, Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure. Welcom pure thoughts, welcome ye silent groves, These guests, these Courts, my soul most dearly loves, Now the wing'd people of the Skie shall sing My chereful Anthems to the gladsome Spring; A Pray'r book now shall be my looking glasse, In which I will adore sweet vertues face. Here dwell no hateful locks, no Pallace cares, No broken vows dwell here, nor pale fac'd fears, Then here I'l sit and sigh my hot loves folly, And learn t'affect an holy melancholy. And if contentment be a stranger, then I'l nere look for it, but in heaven again. Viat. Wel Master, these be Verses that be worthy to keep a room in every mans memory. I thank you for them, and I thank you for your many instructions, which I will not forget; your company and discourse have been so pleasant, that I may truly say, I have only lived, since I enjoyed you and them, and turned Angler. I am sorry to part with you here, here in this place where I first met you, but it must be so: I shall long for the ninth of May, for then we are to meet at Charls Brandons. This intermitted time wil seem to me (as it does to men in sorrow,) to pass slowly, but I wil hasten it as fast as I can by my wishes, and in the mean time the blessing of Saint Peters Master be with mine. Pisc. And the like be upon my honest Scholer. And upon all that hate contentions, and love quietnesse, and vertue, and Angling. FINIS. |
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