Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten; In folly rise, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds, Thy coral clasps, and amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy love. What should we talk of dainties, then, Of better meat than's fit for men? These are but vain: that's only good Which God hath blessed and sent for food. But could youth last, and love still breed; Had joys no date, nor age no need; Then those delights my mind might move To live with thee, and be thy love. Mother. Well! I have done my song. But stay, honest anglers; for I will make Maudlin sing you one short song more. Maudlin! sing that song that you sung last night, when young Coridon the shepherd played so purely on his oaten pipe to you and your cousin Betty. Maudlin. I will, mother. I married a wife of late, The more's my unhappy fate: I married her for love, As my fancy did me move, And not for a worldly estate: But oh! the green sickness Soon changed her likeness; And all her beauty did fail. But 'tis not so With those that go Thro'frost and snow As all men know, And carry the milking-pail. Piscator. Well sung, good woman; I thank you. I'll give you another dish of fish one of these days; and then beg another song of you. Come, scholar! let Maudlin alone: do not you offer to spoil her voice. Look! yonder comes mine hostess, to call us to supper. How now! is my brother Peter come? Hostess. Yes, and a friend with him. They are both glad to hear that you are in these parts; and long to see you; and long to be at supper, for they be very hungry. The third day-continued On the Trout Chapter V Piscator, Peter, Venator, Coridon Piscator. Well met, brother Peter! I heard you and a friend would lodge here to-night; and that hath made me to bring my friend to lodge here too. My friend is one that would fain be a brother of the angle: he hath been an angler but this day; and I have taught him how to catch a Chub, by dapping with a grasshopper; and the Chub he caught was a lusty one of nineteen inches long. But pray, brother Peter, who is your companion? Peter. Brother Piscator, my friend is an honest countryman, and his name is Coridon; and he is a downright witty companion, that met me here purposely to be pleasant and eat a Trout; and I have not yet wetted my line since we met together: but I hope to fit him with a Trout for his breakfast; for I'll be early up. Piscator. Nay, brother, you shall not stay so long; for, look you! here is a Trout will fill six reasonable bellies.