Bright shines the sun; play, Beggars, play; Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
What noise of viols is so sweet, As when our merry clappers ring? What mirth doth want where Beggars meet? A Beggar's life is for a King. Eat, drink, and play, sleep when we list Go where we will, so stocks be mist. Bright shines the sun; play, Beggars, play, Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
The world is ours, and ours alone; For we alone have world at will We purchase not, all is our own; Both fields and streets we Beggars fill. Nor care to get, nor fear to keep, Did ever break a Beggar's sleep, Play, Beggars, play; play, Beggars, play; Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
A hundred head of black and white Upon our gowns securely feed If any dare his master bite He dies therefore, as sure as creed. Thus Beggars lord it as they please; And only Beggars live at ease. Bright shines the sun; play, Beggars, play; Here's scraps enough to serve to-day.
Venator. I thank you, good master, for this piece of merriment, and this song, which was well humoured by the maker, and well remembered by you.
Piscator. But, I pray, forget not the catch which you promised to make against night; for our countryman, honest Coridon, will expect your catch, and my song, which I must be forced to patch up, for it is so long since I learnt it, that I have forgot a part of it. But, come, now it hath done raining, let's stretch our legs a little in a gentle walk to the river, and try what interest our angles will pay us for lending them so long to be used by the Trouts; lent them indeed, like usurers, for our profit and their destruction.
Venator. Oh me! look you, master, a fish! a fish! Oh, alas, master, I have lost her.
Piscator. Ay marry, Sir, that was a good fish indeed: if I had had the luck to have taken up that rod, then 'tis twenty to one he should not have broken my line by running to the rod's end, as you suffered him. I would have held him within the bent of my rod, unless he had been fellow to the great Trout that is near an ell long, which was of such a length and depth, that he had his picture drawn, and now is to be seen at mine host Rickabie's, at the George in Ware, and it may be, by giving that very great Trout the rod, that is, by casting it to him into the water, I might have caught him at the long run, for so I use always to do when I meet with an over-grown fish; and you will learn to do so too, hereafter, for I tell you, scholar, fishing is an art, or, at least, it is an art to catch fish.