Piscator. Marry, e en eat him to supper: we'll go to my hostess from
whence we came; she told me, as I was going out of door, that my
brother Peter, a good angler and a cheerful companion, had sent word
he would lodge there to-night, and bring a friend with him. My hostess
has two beds, and I know you and I may have the best: we'll rejoice
with my brother Peter and his friend, tell tales, or sing ballads, or make
a catch, or find some harmless sport to content us, and pass away a little
time without offence to God or man.

Venator. A match, good master, let's go to that house, for the linen
looks white, and smells of lavender, and I long to lie in a pair of sheets
that smell so. Let's be going, good master, for I am hungry again with
fishing.

Piscator. Nay, stay a little, good scholar. I caught my last Trout with a
worm; now I will put on a minnow, and try a quarter of an hour about
yonder trees for another; and, so, walk towards our lodging. Look you,
scholar, thereabout we shall have a bite presently, or not at all. Have
with you, Sir: o' my word I have hold of him. Oh! it is a great logger-
headed Chub; come, hang him upon that willow twig, and let's be
going. But turn out of the way a little, good scholar! toward yonder high
honeysuckle hedge; there we'll sit and sing whilst this shower falls so
gently upon the teeming earth, and gives yet a sweeter smell to the
lovely flowers that adorn these verdant meadows.