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us, because it is a sacrifice so pleasing to him that made that Sun, and us, and still protects us, and gives us flowers, and showers, and stomachs, and meat, and content, and leisure to go a-fishing.

Well, Scholar, I have almost tired myself, and, I fear, more than almost tired you: but I now see Tottenham High-Cross; and our short walk thither shall put a period to my too long discourse; in which my meaning was, and is, to plant that in your mind, with which I labour to possess my own soul: that is, a meek and thankful heart. And, to that end, I have shewed you that riches without them do not make any man happy. But let me tell you, that riches with them remove many fears, and cares; and therefore my advice is, that you endeavour to be honestly rich, or contentedly poor: but be sure that your riches be justly got, or you spoil all. For it is well said by Caussin, " he that "loses his conscience, has nothing left that is "worth keeping." Therefore be sure you look to that. And, in the next place, look to your health: and if you have it, praise God, and value it next to a good conscience; for health is the second blessing that we mortals are capable of; a blessing that money cannot buy; and therefore value it, and be thankful for it. As for money, which may be said to be the third blessing, neglect it not: but note, that there is no necessity of being rich: for I told you, there be as many miseries beyond riches* as on this side them: and, if you have a compe

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tence, enjoy it with a meek, cheerful, thankful, heart. I will tell you, Scholar, I have heard a grave Divine say, that God has two dwellings, one in Heaven, and the other in a meek and thankful heart. Which Almighty God grant to me, and to my honest Scholar: and so you are welcome to Tottenham High-Cross.

Ven. Well, Master, I thank you for all your good directions; but for none more than this last of thankfulness, which I hope I shall never forget. And pray let's now rest ourselves in this sweet shady arbour, which Nature herself has woven with her own fine fingers; 'tis such a contexture of Woodbines, Sweetbriar, Jessamine, and Myrtle, and so interwoven, as will secure us both from the sun's violent heat, and from the approaching shower; and, being sat down, I will requite a part of your courtesies with a bottle of Sack, Milk, Oranges, and Sugar; which all put together, make a drink like Nectar, indeed, too good for any body but us Anglers; and so, Master, here is a full glass to you of that liquor; and when you have pledged me, I will repeat the verses which I promised you; it is a copy printed amongst some of Sir Henry Wotton's, and doubtless made either by him, or by a lover of Angling. Come, Master, now drink a glass to me, and then I will pledge you, and fall to my repetition; it is a description of such country recreations as I have enjoyed since I had the happiness to fall into your company. , . 'x;.

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Quicering fears, heart-tearing cares,
Animus sighs, untimely tears,

Fly, fly to courts,

Fly to fond worldlings' sports,
Where strain'd Sardonic smiles are glosing still,
And grief is fore d to laugh against her will.

Where mirth's but mummery,

And sorrows only real be.

Fly from our country pastimes, fly,
Sad troops of human misery:

Come serene looks,

Clear as the crystal brooks,
Or the pure azur'd heaven that smiles to see
The rich attendance on our poverty;

Peace and a secure mind,

Which all men seek, we only find.

Abused mortals, did you know

Where joy, heart's-ease and comforts grow,

You'd scorn proud towers,

And seek them in these bowers; Where winds sometimes our woods perhaps may shake, But blustering care could never tempest make,

Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us,

Saving, of fountains that glide by lis.

Here's no fantastic masque, nor dance,
But of our kids that frisk and prance;

Nor wars are seen,

Unless upon the green

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