ined we were there, and as merry as they that fish'd, and I
am glad we are now with a dry house over our heads, for heark how it
rains and blows. Come Hostis, give us more Ale, and our Supper with
what haste you may, and when we have sup'd, lets have your Song,
_Piscator_, and the Ketch that your Scholer promised us, or else
_Coridon_ wil be doged.

_Pisc._ Nay, I will not be worse then my word, you shall not want my
Song, and I hope I shall be perfect in it.

_Viat._ And I hope the like for my Ketch, which I have ready too, and
therefore lets go merrily to Supper, and then have a gentle touch at
singing and drinking; but the last with moderation.

_Cor._ Come, now for your Song, for we have fed heartily. Come Hostis,
give us a little more drink, and lay a few more sticks on the fire, and
now sing when you will.

_Pisc._ Well then, here's to you _Coridon_; and now for my Song.

Oh the brave Fisher's life,
It is the best of any,
'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,
And 'tis belov'd of many:
Other joyes
are but toyes,
only this
lawful is,
for our skil
breeds no ill,
but content and pleasure.

In a morning up we rise
Ere _Aurora's_ peeping,
Drink a cup to wash our eyes,
Leave the sluggard sleeping;
Then we go
too and fro,
with our knacks
at our backs,
to such streams
as the _Thames_
if we have the leisure.

When we please to walk abroad
For our recreation,
In the fields is our abode,
Full of delectation:
Where in a Brook
with a hook,
or a Lake
fish we take,
there we sit
for a bit,
till we fish intangle.

We have Gentles in a horn,
We have Paste and worms too,
We can watch both night and morn.
Suffer rain and storms too:
None do here
use to swear,
oathes do fray
fish away.
we sit still,
watch our quill,
Fishers must not rangle.

If the Suns excessive heat
Makes our bodies swelter
To an _Osier_ hedge we get
For a friendly shelter,
where in a dike
_Pearch_ or _Pike_,
_Roch_ or _Dace_
we do chase
_Bleak_ or _Gudgion_
without grudging,
we are still contented.

Or we sometimes pass an hour,
Under a green willow,
That defends us from a showr,
Making earth our pillow,
There we may
think and pray