How ignorant had we been of the beauty of Florence, of the
monuments, urns, and rarities that yet remain in and near unto old and
new Rome, so many as it is said will take up a year's time to view, and
afford to each of them but a convenient consideration! And therefore it
is not to be wondered at, that so learned and devout a father as St.
Jerome, after his wish to have seen Christ in the flesh, and to have
heard St. Paul preach, makes his third wish, to have seen Rome in her
glory; and that glory is not yet all lost, for what pleasure is it to see the
monuments of Livy, the choicest of the historians; of Tully, the best of
orators; and to see the bay trees that now grow out of the very tomb of
Virgil! These, to any that love learning, must be pleasing. But what
pleasure is it to a devout Christian, to see there the humble house in
which St. Paul was content to dwell, and to view the many rich statues
that are made in honour of his memory! nay, to see the very place in
which St. Peter and he lie buried together! These are in and near to
Rome. And how much more doth it please the pious curiosity of a
Christian, to see that place, on which the blessed Saviour of the world
was pleased to humble himself, and to take our nature upon him, and to
converse with men: to see Mount Sion, Jerusalem, and the very
sepulchre of our Lord Jesus! How may it beget and heighten the zeal of
a Christian, to see the devotions that are daily paid to him at that place!
Gentlemen, lest I forget myself, I will stop here, and remember you,
that but for my element of water, the inhabitants of this poor island
must remain ignorant that such things ever were, or that any of them
have yet a being.

Gentlemen, I might both enlarge and lose myself in such like
arguments. I might tell you that Almighty God is said to have spoken to
a fish, but never to a beast; that he hath made a whale a ship, to carry
and set his prophet, Jonah, safe on the appointed shore. Of these I might
speak, but I must in manners break off, for I see Theobald's House. I cry
you mercy for being so long, and thank you for your patience.

Auceps. Sir, my pardon is easily granted you: I except against nothing
that you have said: nevertheless, I must part with you at this park-wall,
for which I am very sorry; but I assure you, Mr. Piscator, I now part
with you full of good thoughts, not only of yourself, but your recreation.
And so, Gentlemen, God keep you both.

Piscator. Well, now, Mr. Venator, you shall neither want time, nor my
attention to hear you enlarge your discourse concerning hunting.

Venator. Not I, Sir: I remember you said that Angling itself was of great
antiquity, and a perfect art, and an art not easily attained to; and you
have so won upon me in your former discourse, that I am very desirous
to hear what you can say further concerning those particulars.

Piscator. Sir, I did say so: and I doubt not but if you and I did converse
together but a few hours, to leave you possessed with the same high and
happy thoughts that now possess me of it; not only of the antiquity of
Angling, but that it deserves commendations; and that it is an art, and
an art worthy the knowledge and practice of a wise man.