There be several oils of a strong smell that I have been told of, and to be excellent to tempt fish to bite, of which I could say much. But I remember I once carried a small bottle from Sir George Hastings to Sir Henry Wotton, they were both chemical men, as a great present: it was sent, and receiv'd, and us'd, with great confidence; and yet, upon inquiry, I found it did not answer the expectation of Sir Henry; which, with the help of this and other circumstances, makes me have little belief in such things as many men talk of. Not but that I think that fishes both smell and hear, as I have express in my former discourse: but there is a mysterious knack, which though it be much easier than the philosopher's stone, yet is not attainable by common capacities, or else lies locked up in the brain or breast of some chemical man, that, like the Rosicrucians, will not yet reveal it. But let me nevertheless tell you, that camphire, put with moss into your worm-bag with your worms, makes them, if many anglers be not very much mistaken, a tempting bait, and the angler more fortunate. But I stepped by chance into this discourse of oils, and fishes smelling; and though there might be more said, both of it and of baits for Roach and Dace and other float-fish, yet I will forbear it at this time, and tell you, in the next place, how you are to prepare your tackling: concerning which, I will, for sport sake, give you an old rhyme out of an old fish book; which will prove a part, and but a part, of what you are to provide. My rod and my line, my float and my lead, My hook and my plummet, my whetstone and knife, My basket, my baits, both living and dead, My net, and my meat, for that is the chief: Then I must have thread, and hairs green and small, With mine angling purse: and so you have all. But you must have all these tackling, and twice so many more, with which, if you mean to be a fisher, you must store yourself; and to that purpose I will go with you, either to Mr. Margrave, who dwells amongst the book-sellers in St. Paul's Church-yard, or to Mr. John Stubs, near to the Swan in Goldinglane: they be both honest men, and will fit an angler with what tackling he lacks. Venator. Then, good master, let it be at--for he is nearest to my dwelling. And I pray let's meet there the ninth of May next, about two of the clock; and I'll want nothing that a fisher should be furnished with. Piscator. Well, and I'll not fail you, God willing, at the time and place appointed. Venator. I thank you, good master, and I will not fail you. And, good master, tell me what BAITS more you remember; for it will not now be long ere we shall be at Tottenham-High-Cross; and when we come thither I will make you some requital of your pains, by repeating as choice a copy of Verses as any we have heard since we met together; and that is a proud word, for we have heard very good ones.