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Thís copy of Parkhurst, in the possession of Mr. Douce, was given by the author to “Thomas Buttes,” who has written in it the following cu, rious Acrostic on his own name :

T-he longer lyfe that man on earth enjoyes,
H-is God so much the more hee dooth offende;
O-ffending God, no doubt, mannes soule destroyes;
M-annes soule destroyed, his torments have no ende,
A-nd endles torments sinners must endure,
S-ith synne Gods wrath agaynst us doth procure.

B-eware, therefore, ( wretched sinfull Wight
U-se well thy toongue, doo well, think not amysse ;
T-o God praye thou to guyde thee by his spright,
T-hat thou mayest treade the path of perfect blisse.
E-mbrace thou Christe, by faythe and fervent love,
S-o shalt thou reyne with hym in heaven above.

Thomas Buttes

havyng the first letter of everie lyne begynnyng with a letter of his name.

The reader who wishes for farther particulars of Parkhurst and his book, may consult

Herbert's Ames, vol. 1. p. 656.
Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. 111.

p. 432.

Wood's Athena Oxonienses, vol. 1. p. 179.

Parkhurst's work is also quoted in Boys's tenth Sermon after Trinity, p. 447.



THIS personage adds another name to the Catalogue of English Poets. I do not find him any where mentioned, and yet he was the author of other productions than this about to be described. At least it may be so presumed from the following stanza in the commencement of

this poem.

What hath bewitched late thy powers,

Whiche thou wast wont to use,
Or where is now becom the fruite

Of thy acquainted muse.

I give the title page of this poem.

A BRIEFE DISCOURSE OF THE LYFE AND DEATH OF THE LATE RIGHT HighI AND HONORABLE SIR WILLIAM PAWLET, Knight, Lord Saint John, Erle of Wilshire, Marques of Winchester, Knight of the honorable Order of the Garter, one of the Queenes Majesties Privie Counsel, and Lorde Highe Treasurer of Englande.

Which deceased the tenth day of Marche, Anno 1571, and was buried at Basing the 28 day of Aprill. Auno. MDLXXII.


Printed at London by Richard Johnes.

Anno 1579."


I am content to bend my pen,

In rurall ryme to paynte
The tale that thou haste toulde to me,

And of thy hevy playnt ;

And wyll denie in hermonie

Contention for to make;
I bet the playne songe, no whit els

To pricke do undertake.

To set in partes the learned must,

That art can rightly use,
And let them descant who so list,

That my good wyll refuse.

Thou toldest me of his vertuous lyfe

· A tale both long and wyse,
And how that God preserved hym

In many an enterprise.

How styll by friendship he dyd seeke

His foes his friends to make;
And their redoubled shames came on,
As they dyd brew to bake.

&c. &c.



PERHAPS there does not exist in the circle of English Literature a rarer book than this which I am about to describe. It is quoted no where but by Isaac Walton, in his Complete Angler, where it is ascribed to Jo. Davors, esq. Of this person I can no where find

any account. He has even escaped the indefatigable penetration and industry of Ritson. The book is so rare that Sir John Hawkins confesses he could never procure a sight of it.

My friend Mr. Douce had given me the opportunity of describing it, when I afterwards found a less perfect copy in the British Museum.



The choicest tooles, baits and seasons for the taking of any fish, in pond or river, practised, and familiarly opened in three Bookes. By J. D. Esquire.

Augmented with many approved experiments, by W. Lauson.

London. Printed by T. H. for John Harison, and are to be sold by Francis Coles, at his Shop in the Old Bayly. 1652."


As I never heard of any other copies than that of Mr. Douce, and one belonging to the Museum, and as I know the book has eluded the diligent researches of some of our most acute and persevering collectors, I think the following specimen will be acceptable, at least to the lovers of the Art of Angling :


Now that the Angler may the better know
Where he may find each fish he may require;
Since some delight in waters still and slow,
And some do love the mud and slimy mire;
Some others where the stream doth swiftly flow,
Some stony ground, and gravell some desire :

Here shall he learn how every sort doth seeke
To haunt the layre that doth his nature like.

Carp, Eele, and Tench do love a muddy ground,
Eeles under stones or hollow roots do lie,
The Tench among thick weeds is soonest found,
The fearfull Carp into the deep doth flie,
Bream, Chub, and Pike, where clay and sand abound,
Pike loves great pooles and places full of frie:

The Chub delights in stream or shady tree,
And tender Bream in broadest lake to be.

The Salmon swift the rivers sweet doth like,
Where largest streams into the sea are led,
The spotted Trout the smaller brooke doth seek,
And in the deepest hole there hides his head,

The prickled Pearch in every hollow creek

Hard by the banke and sandy shore is fed, VOL.II.


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