Well, Scholar, I have almost tired myself, and, I fear, more than almost
tired you. But I now see Tottenham High-Cross; and our short walk
thither shall put a period to my too long discourse; in which my meaning
was, and is, to plant that in your mind with which I labour to possess
my own soul; that is, a meek and thankful heart. And to that end I have
shewed you, that riches without them, do not make any man happy. But let
me tell you, that riches with them remove many fears and cares. And
therefore my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or
contentedly poor: but be sure that your riches be justly got, or you
spoil all. For it is well said by Caussin, "He that loses his
conscience has nothing left that is worth keeping". Therefore be sure
you look to that. And, in the next place, look to your health: and if
you have it, praise God, and value it next to a good conscience; for
health is the second blessing that we mortals are capable of; a blessing
that money cannot buy; and therefore value it, and be thankful for it.
As for money, which may be said to be the third blessing, neglect it
not: but note, that there is no necessity of being rich; for I told you,
there be as many miseries beyond riches as on this side them: and if you
have a competence, enjoy it with a meek, cheerful, thankful heart. I
will tell you, Scholar, I have heard a grave Divine say, that God has
two dwellings; one in heaven, and the other in a meek and thankful
heart; which Almighty God grant to me, and to my honest Scholar. And so
you are welcome to Tottenham High-Cross.
Venator. Well, Master, I thank you for all your good directions; but for
none more than this last, of thankfulness, which I hope I shall never
forget. And pray let's now rest ourselves in this sweet shady arbour,
which nature herself has woven with her own fine fingers; 'tis such a
contexture of woodbines, sweetbriar, jasmine, and myrtle; and so
interwoven, as will secure us both from the sun's violent heat, and from
the approaching shower. And being set down, I will requite a part of
your courtesies with a bottle of sack, milk, oranges, and sugar, which,
all put together, make a drink like nectar; indeed, too good for any but
us Anglers, And so, Master, here is a full glass to you of that liquor:
and when you have pledged me, I will repeat the Verses which I promised
you: it is a Copy printed among some of Sir Henry Wotton's, and
doubtless made either by him, or by a lover of angling. Come, Master,
now drink a glass to me, and then I will pledge you, and fall to my
repetition; it is a description of such country recreations as I have
enjoyed since I had the happiness to fall into your company.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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