Part 8

Viat. I thank you good Master for this observation; but now what shal be done with my Chub or Cheven that I have caught.

Pisc. Marry Sir, it shall be given away to some poor body, for Ile warrant you Ile give you a Trout for your supper; and it is a good beginning of your Art to offer your first fruits to the poor, who will both thank God and you for it.

And now lets walk towards the water again, and as I go Ile tel you when you catch your next Chub, how to dresse it as this was.

viat. Come (good Master) I long to be going and learn your direction.

Pisc. You must dress it, or see it drest thus: When you have scaled him, wash him very cleane, cut off his tail and fins; and wash him not after you gut him, but chine or cut him through the middle as a salt fish is cut, then give him four or five scotches with your knife, broil him upon wood-cole or char-cole; but as he is broiling; baste him often with butter that shal be choicely good; and put good store of salt into your butter, or salt him gently as you broil or baste him; and bruise or cut very smal into your butter, a little Time, or some other sweet herb that is in the Garden where you eat him: thus used, it takes away the watrish taste which the Chub or Chevin has, and makes him a choice dish of meat, as you your self know, for thus was that dressed, which you did eat of to your dinner.

Or you may (for variety) dress a Chub another way, and you will find him very good, and his tongue and head almost as good as a Carps; but then you must be sure that no grass or weeds be left in his mouth or throat.

Thus you must dress him: Slit him through the middle, then cut him into four pieces: then put him into a pewter dish, and cover him with another, put into him as much White Wine as wil cover him, or Spring water and Vinegar, and store of Salt, with some branches of Time, and other sweet herbs; let him then be boiled gently over a Chafing-dish with wood coles, and when he is almost boiled enough, put half of the liquor from him, not the top of it; put then into him a convenient quantity of the best butter you can get, with a little Nutmeg grated into it, and sippets of white bread: thus ordered, you wil find the Chevin and the sauce too, a choice dish of meat: And I have been the more careful to give you a perfect direction how to dress him, because he is a fish undervalued by many, and I would gladly restore him to some of his credit which he has lost by ill Cookery.

Viat. But Master, have you no other way to catch a Cheven, or Chub?

Pisc. Yes that I have, but I must take time to tel it you hereafter; or indeed, you must learn it by observation and practice, though this way that I have taught you was the easiest to catch a Chub, at this time, and at this place. And now we are come again to the River; I wil (as the Souldier sayes) prepare for skirmish; that is, draw out my Tackling, and try to catch a Trout for supper.

Viat. Trust me Master, I see now it is a harder matter to catch a Trout then a Chub; for I have put on patience, and followed you this two hours, and not seen a fish stir, neither at your Minnow nor your worm.

Pisc. Wel Scholer, you must indure worse luck sometime, or you will never make a good Angler. But what say you now? there is a Trout now, and a good one too, if I can but hold him; and two or three turns more will tire him: Now you see he lies still, and the sleight is to land him: Reach me that Landing net: So (Sir) now he is mine own, what say you? is not this worth all my labour?

Viat. On my word Master, this is a gallant Trout; what shall we do with him?

Pisc. Marry ee'n eat him to supper: We'l go to my Hostis, 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 lodg there to night, and bring a friend with him. My Hostis has two beds, and I know you and I may have the best: we'l rejoice with my brother Peter and his friend, tel tales, or sing Ballads, or make a Catch, or find some harmless sport to content us.

Viat. A match, good Master, lets go to that house, for the linen looks white, and smels of Lavender, and I long to lye in a pair of sheets that smels so: lets be going, good Master, for I am hungry again with fishing.

Pisc. Nay, stay a little good Scholer, I caught my last Trout with a worm, now I wil put on a Minow and try a quarter of an hour about yonder trees for another, and so walk towards our lodging. Look you Scholer, thereabout we shall have a bit presently, or not at all: Have with you (Sir!) on my word I have 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 Scholer, towards yonder high hedg: We'l sit whilst this showr falls so gently upon the teeming earth, and gives a sweeter smel to the lovely flowers that adorn the verdant Meadows.

Look, under that broad Beech tree I sate down when I was last this way a fishing, and the birds in the adjoining Grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an Echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow cave, near to the brow of that Primrose hil; there I sate viewing the Silver streams glide silently towards their center, the tempestuous Sea, yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots, and pibble stones, which broke their waves, and turned them into some: and sometimes viewing the harmless Lambs, some leaping securely in the cool shade, whilst others sported themselvs in the cheerful Sun; and others were craving comfort from the swolne Udders of their bleating Dams. As I thus sate, these and other sighs had so fully possest my soul, that I thought as the Poet has happily exprest it:

I was for that time lifted above earth; And possest joyes not promis'd in my birth.

As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second pleasure entertained me, 'twas a handsome Milk-maid, that had cast away all care, and sung like a Nightingale; her voice was good, and the Ditty fitted for it; 'twas that smooth Song which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least fifty years ago; and the Milk maid's mother sung an answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleigh in his younger days.

They were old fashioned Poetry, but choicely good, I think much better then that now in fashion in this Critical age. Look yonder, on my word, yonder they be both a milking again: I will give her the Chub, and persuade them to sing those two songs to us.

Pisc. God speed, good woman, I have been a-fishing, and am going to Bleak Hall to my bed, and having caught more fish then will sup my self and friend, will bestow this upon you and your daughter for I use to sell none.

Milkw. Marry, God requite you Sir, and we'l eat it cheerfully: will you drink a draught of red Cow's milk?

Pisc. No, I thank you: but I pray do us a courtesie that shal stand you and your daughter in nothing, and we wil think our selves stil something in your debt; it is but to sing us a Song, that that was sung by you and your daughter, when I last past over this Meadow, about eight or nine dayes since.

Milk. what Song was it, I pray? was it, Come Shepherds deck your heads: or, As at noon Dulcina rested: or Philida flouts me?

Pisc. No, it is none of those: it is a Song that your daughter sung the first part, and you sung the answer to it.

Milk. O I know it now, I learn'd the first part in my golden age, when I was about the age of my daughter; and the later part, which indeed fits me best, but two or three years ago; you shal, God willing, hear them both. Come Maudlin, sing the first part to the Gentlemen with a merrie heart, and Ile sing the second.

The Milk maids Song.

_Come live with me, and be my Love, And we wil all the pleasures prove That vallies, Groves, or hils, or fields, Or woods and steepie mountains yeelds.

Where we will sit upon the Rocks, And see the Shepherds feed our flocks, By shallow Rivers, to whose falls Mellodious birds sing_ madrigals.