Piscator. Look you, Sir, there is a trial of my skill; there he is: that very
Chub, that I showed you, with the white spot on his tail. And I'll be as
certain to make him a good dish of meat as I was to catch him: I'll now
lead you to an honest ale-house, where we shall find a cleanly room,
lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck about the wall.
There my hostess, which I may tell you is both cleanly, and handsome,
and civil, hath dressed many a one for me; and shall now dress it after
my fashion, and I warrant it good meat.

Venator. Come, Sir, with all my heart, for I begin to be hungry, and
long to be at it, and indeed to rest myself too; for though I have walked
but four miles this morning, yet I begin to be weary; yesterday's hunting
hangs still upon me.

Piscator. Well, Sir, and you shall quickly be at rest, for yonder is the
house I mean to bring you to.

Come, hostess, how do you ? Will you first give us a cup of your best
drink, and then dress this Chub, as you dressed my last, when I and my
friend were here about eight or ten days ago ? But you must do me one
courtesy, it must be done instantly.

Hostess. I will do it, Mr. Piscator, and with all the speed I can.

Piscator. NOW, Sir, has not my hostess made haste? and does not the
fish look lovely?

Venator. Both, upon my word, Sir; and therefore let's say grace and fall
to eating of it.