_Via_. Trust me Master, it is a choice Song, and sweetly sung by honest _Maudlin_: Ile bestow Sir _Thomas Overbury's_ Milk maids wish upon her, _That she may dye in the Spring, and have good store of flowers stuck round about her winding sheet_. The Milk maids mothers answer. _If all the world and love were young, And truth in every Shepherds tongue? These pretty pleasures might me move, To live with thee, and be thy love. But time drives flocks from field to fold: When rivers rage and rocks grow cold, And_ Philomel _becometh dumb, The Rest complains of cares to come. The Flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward Winter reckoning yeilds A honey tongue, a heart of gall, Is fancies spring, but sorrows fall. Thy gowns, thy shooes, thy beds of Roses, Thy Cap, thy Kirtle, and thy Posies, Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and Ivie buds, Thy Coral clasps and Amber studs, All these in me no means can move To come to thee, and be thy Love. But could youth last, and love stil breed, Had joys no date, nor age no need; Then those delights my mind might move To live with thee, and be thy love_. _Pisc_. Well sung, good woman, I thank you, I'l give you another dish of fish one of these dayes, and then beg another Song of you. Come Scholer, let Maudlin alone, do not you offer to spoil her voice. Look, yonder comes my Hostis to cal us to supper. How now? is my brother _Peter_ come? _Host_. Yes, and a friend with him, they are both glad to hear you are in these parts, and long to see you, and are hungry, and long to be at supper. CHAP. III. _Piscat_. Wel met brother _Peter_, I heard you & a friend would lodg here to night, and that has made me and my friend cast to lodge here too; my friend is one that would faine be a brother of the _Angle_: he has been an _Angler_ but this day, and I have taught him how to catch a _Chub_ with _daping_ a _Grashopper_, and he has caught a lusty one of nineteen inches long. But I pray you brother, who is it that is your companion? _Peter_. Brother _Piscator_, my friend is an honest Country man, and his name is _Coridon_, a most downright witty merry companion that met me here purposely to eat a _Trout_ and be pleasant, and I have not yet wet my line since I came from home: But I wil fit him to morrow with a _Trout_ for his breakfast, if the weather be any thing like. _Pisc_. Nay brother, you shall not delay him so long, for look you here is a _Trout_ will fill six reasonable bellies. Come Hostis, dress it presently, and get us what other meat the house wil afford, and give us some good Ale, and lets be merrie. _The Description of a_ Trout. [Illustration]