Nay, the very colours of _Caterpillers_ are, as one has observed, very elegant and beautiful: I shal (for a taste of the rest) describe one of them, which I will sometime the next month, shew you feeding on a Willow tree, and you shal find him punctually to answer this very description: "His lips and mouth somewhat yellow, his eyes black as Jet, his ore-head purple, his feet and hinder parts green, his tail two forked and black, the whole body stain'd with a kind of red spots which run along the neck and shoulder-blades, not unlike the form of a Cross, or the letter X, made thus cross-wise, and a white line drawn down his back to his tail; all which add much beauty to his whole body." And it is to me observable, that at a fix'd age this _Caterpiller_ gives over to eat, and towards winter comes to be coverd over with a strange shell or crust, and so lives a kind of dead life, without eating all the winter, and (as others of several kinds turn to be several kinds of flies and vermin, the Spring following) [view Sir _Fra. Bacon_ exper. 728 & 90 in his Natural History] so this _Caterpiller_ then turns to be a painted Butterflye. Come, come my Scholer, you see the River stops our morning walk, and I wil also here stop my discourse, only as we sit down under this Honey-Suckle hedge, whilst I look a Line to fit the Rod that our brother _Peter_ has lent you, I shall for a little confirmation of what I have said, repeat the observation of the Lord _Bartas_. _God not contented to each kind to give, And to infuse the vertue generative, By his wise power made many creatures breed Of liveless bodies, without_ Venus _deed. So the cold humour breeds the_ Salamander, _Who (in effect) like to her births commander With child with hundred winters, with her touch Quencheth the fire, though glowing ne'r so much. So in the fire in burning furnace springs The fly_ Perausta _with the flaming wings; Without the fire it dies, in it, it joyes, Living in that which all things else destroyes_. [Sidenote: Gerb. Herbal. Cabdem] _So slow_ Boötes _underneath him sees In th'icie Islands_ Goslings _hatcht of trees, Whose fruitful leaves falling into the water, Are turn'd ('tis known) to living fowls soon after. So rotten planks of broken ships, do change To_ Barnacles. _Oh transformation strange! 'Twas first a green tree, then a broken hull, Lately a Mushroom, now a flying Gull_. _Vi_. Oh my good Master, this morning walk has been spent to my great pleasure and wonder: but I pray, when shall I have your direction how to make Artificial flyes, like to those that the _Trout_ loves best? and also how to use them?