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CORIDON. man's life. PETER.

And then mine shall be the praise of a CountryWhat will the rest sing of?

I will promise you, I will sing another song in praise of Angling to-morrow night; for we will not part till then; but fish to-morrow, and sup together: and the next day every man leave fishing, and fall to his business.

VENATOR. 'Tis a match; and I will provide you a song or a catch against then, too, which shall give some addition of mirth to the company; for we will be civil and as merry as beggars.

PISCATOR. 'Tis a match, my masters. Let's e'en say grace, and turn to the fire, drink the other cup to whet our whistles, and so sing away all sad thoughts. Come on, my masters, who begins? I think it is best to draw cuts, and avoid contention. PETER. It is a match. Look, the shortest cut falls to Coridon. CORIDON. Well, then, I will begin, for I hate contention.

Coridon's Song.

Oh the sweet contentment
The countryman doth find!
Heigh trolollie lollie loe,
Heigh trolollie lee.
That quiet contemplation
Possesseth all my mind:

Then care away,

And wend along with me.

For Courts are full of flattery,
As hath too oft been tried;

Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c.
The city full of wantonness,
And both are full of pride:
Then care away, &c.

But oh, the honest countryman
Speaks truly from his heart,

Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c.

His pride is in his tillage,
His horses, and his cart:

Then care away, &c.

Our clothing is good sheep-skins,
Grey russet for our wives;

Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c.
'Tis warmth and not gay clothing
That doth prolong our lives:
Then care away, &c.

The ploughman, tho' he labour hard,
Yet on the holyday,

Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c.
No emperor so merrily
Does pass his time away:
Then care away, &c.

To recompense our tillage,
The heavens afford us showers;
Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c.
And for our sweet refreshments
The earth affords us bowers:
Then care away, &c.

VARIATION.] 8 for we will be merry.-Till 5th edit.

8vo, 1669; and in Choice Ayres, Songs, and Dialogues, to sing to the Theorbo, Lute, and Bass Viol, folio, 1675: also in Dr Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 357; but in the latter with a mistake, in the last line of the third stanza, of the word Pentarchye for Pentateuch.-H.

The cuckow and the nightingale
Full merrily do sing,

Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c.
And with their pleasant roundelays
Bid welcome to the spring:

Then care away, &c.

This is not half the happiness
The countryman enjoys;

Heigh trolollie lollie loe, &c. Though others think they have as much, Yet he that says so lies:

Then come away,

Turn countrymen with me.

Jo. CHALKHILL.*

PISCATOR. Well sung, Coridon, this song was sung with mettle; and it was choicely fitted to the occasion: I shall love you for it as long as I know you. I would you were a brother of the angle; for a companion that is cheerful, and free from swearing and scurrilous discourse, is worth gold. I love such mirth as does not make friends ashamed to look upon one another next morning; nor men, that cannot well bear it, to repent the money they spend when they be warmed with drink. And take this for a rule you may pick out such times and such companies, that you make yourselves merrier for a little than a great deal of money; for "'Tis the company and not the charge that makes the feast ;" and such a companion you prove: I thank you for it.

But I will not compliment you out of the debt that I owe you, and therefore I will begin my song, and wish it may be so well liked.

John Chalkhill, of whom and his family a notice will be found in the Life of Walton, prefixed to this volume. "To this song the merry chorus of Hey trolly lo' is attached as a burthen, which was then in much repute. A song, entitled Troly Lo, is printed by Ritson (Antient Songs from Hen, III. to the Revolution, 1790, p. 92) from à MS. in the Sloane Collection, No. 1584, commencing :

So well ys me be gone, troly lole so

Well ys me be gone troly loley.'

"In A new and merry Enterlude called the Triall of Treasure, 1567, where a drinking chaunt of Luste like a gallant' has the following lines:

Hey rowse, fill all the pottes in the house,
Tushe man, in good felowship let vs be mery,
Looke vp like a man or it is not worth a louse,
Hey how troly lowe, hey dery, dery.

In the comedy of The late Lancashire Witches, 1634, the song to the familiars, Mawsy,
Puckling, &c. invites them to

Suck our blouds freely, and with it be jolly,

While merrily we sing, Hey trolly lolly.

And in Brome's comedy of The Jovial Crew, or the Merry Beggars, 1641, is the following catch, afterwards inserted in nearly every musical collection of that period :—

There was an old fellow at Waltham Cross,

Who merrily sung when he liv'd by the loss;

He never was heard to sigh with hey-ho,

But sent it out with a haigh trolly lo.

He chear'd up his heart, when his goods went to wrack,
With a heghm, boy, heghm, and a cup of old sack.

In the Weekly Journal of 30th July 1715, there is mention of a noted female offender, prostitute, and housebreaker, called Trolly Lolly, who had been tried at nine assizes, and always saved herself from the capital part of the offence by pregnancy."-Eu. H.

The Angler's Song.

As inward love breeds outward talk,

The hound some praise, and some the hawk,
Some, better pleas'd with private sport,
Use tennis, some a mistress court:

But these delights I neither wish,
Nor envy, while I freely fish.

Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride;
Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide:
Who uses games shall often prove
A loser; but who falls in love,

Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare:

My angle breeds me no such care.

Of recreation there is none

So free as fishing is alone;

All other pastimes do no less

Than mind and body both possess:
My hand alone my work can do,
So I can fish and study too.

I care not, I, to fish in seas,

Fresh rivers best my mind do please,
Whose sweet calm course I contemplate,
And seek in life to imitate :

In civil bounds I fain would keep,

And for my past offences weep.

And when the timorous Trout I wait
To take, and he devours my bait,
How poor a thing, sometimes I find,
Will captivate a greedy mind:

And when none bite, I praise the wise
Whom vain allurements ne'er surprise.

But yet, though while I fish, I fast,
I make good fortune my repast;
And thereunto my friend invite,
In whom I more than that delight:

Who is more welcome to my dish
Than to my angle was my fish.

As well content no prize to take,
As use of taken prize to make :
For so our Lord was pleased, when
He fishers made fishers of men ;

Where, which is in no other game,
A man may fish and praise his name.

The first men that our Saviour dear
Did choose to wait upon him here,

Blest fishers were, and fish the last
Food was that he on earth did taste:
I therefore strive to follow those
Whom he to follow him hath chose.

W. B.*

CORIDON. Well sung, brother, you have paid your debt in good coin. We anglers are all beholden to the good man that made this song: come, hostess, give us more ale, and let's drink to him. And now let's every one go to bed, that we may rise early but first let's pay our reckoning, for I will have nothing to hinder me in the morning; for my purpose is to prevent the sunrising.

PETER. A match. Come, Coridon, you are to be my bedfellow. I know, brother, you and your scholar will lie together. But where shall we meet to-morrow night? for my friend Coridon and I will go up the water towards Ware.

PISCATOR. And my scholar and I will go down towards Waltham.

CORIDON.

Then let's meet here, for here are fresh sheets that smell of lavender; and I am sure we cannot expect better meat, or better usage in any place.

PETER. 'Tis a match.

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Good-night to everybody.

These initials, apparently of William Basse, occur in the first edition only, and prove that Walton, in saying that this song was lately made at my request" by that composer, did not refer to the music only. In the Life and Remains of Dean Bathurst, by Warton, 8vo., 1761, are verses" To Mr W. Basse upon the intended publication of his Poems, Jan. 13, 1651," to which Warton adds in a note, "I find no account of this writer or his poems.

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PISCATOR. Good-morrow, good hostess, I see my brother

Peter is still in bed. Come, give my scholar and me1 a morning-drink, and a bit of meat to breakfast: and be sure to get a dish of meat or two against supper, for we shall come home as hungry as hawks. Come, scholar, let's be going.

VENATOR. Well now, good master, as we walk towards the river, give me direction, according to your promise, how I shall fish for a Trout.

PISCATOR. My honest scholar, I will take this very convenient opportunity to do it.

The Trout is usually caught with a worm, or a minnow, which some call a penk, or with a fly, viz., either a natural or an artificial fly: concerning which three, I will give you some observations and directions.

And, first, for worms.

Of these there be very many sorts:

VARIATIONS.

I and me a cup of ale, and be sure you get us a good dish of meat, &c.- 1st edit. 2 Viator. Good master, as we walk towards the water, will you be pleased to make. the way seem shorter by telling me first the nature of the Trout, and then how to catch him?

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