No More Learning

_Phil. _ It is sometimes for a Man's Advantage to have pilfering Hands;
and the old Proverb is a Witness, that that is a Vice that is
Cousin-German to yours of Lying.

_Pseud. _ Both these Vices are supported by good Authorities: One has
_Ulysses_, so much commended by _Homer_, and the other has _Mercury_,
that was a God, for its Example, if we believe the Poets.

_Phil. _ Why then do People in common curse Liars, and hang Thieves?

_Pseud. _ Not because they lie or steal, but because they do it
bunglingly or unnaturally, not rightly understanding the Art.

_Phil. _ Is there any Author that teaches the Art of Lying?

_Pseud. _ Your Rhetoricians have instructed in the best Part of the Art.

_Phil. _ These indeed present us with the Art of well speaking.

_Pseud. _ True: and the good Part of speaking well, is to lie cleverly.

_Phil. _ What is clever Lying?

_Pseud. _ Would you have me define it?

_Phil. _ I would have you do it.

_Pseud. _ It is to lie so, that you may get Profit by it, and not be
caught in a Lie.

_Phil. _ But a great many are caught in lying every Day.

_Pseud. _ That's because they are not perfect Masters of the Art.

_Phil. _ Are you a perfect Master in it?

_Pseud. _ In a Manner.

_Phil. _ See, if you can tell me a Lie, so as to deceive me.

_Pseud. _ Yes, best of Men, I can deceive you yourself, if I have a Mind
to it.

_Phil. _ Well, tell me some Lie or other then.

_Pseud. _ Why, I have told one already, and did you not catch me in it?

_Phil. _ No.

_Pseud. _ Come on, listen attentively; now I'll begin to lie then.

_Phil. _ I do listen attentively; tell one.

_Pseud. _ Why, I have told another Lie, and you have not caught me.

_Phil. _ In Truth, I hear no Lie yet.

_Pseud. _ You would have heard some, if you understood the Art.

_Phil. _ Do you shew it me then.

_Pseud. _ First of all, I call'd you the best of Men, is not that a
swinging Lie, when you are not so much as good? And if you were good,
you could not be said to be the best, there are a thousand others better
than you.

_Phil. _ Here, indeed, you have deceiv'd me.

_Pseud. _ Well, now try if you can catch me again in another Lie.

_Phil. _ I cannot.

_Pseud. _ I want to have you shew that Sharpness of Wit, that you do in
other Things.

_Phil. _ I confess, I am deficient. Shew me.

_Pseud. _ When I said, now I will begin to lie, did I not tell you a
swinging Lie then, when I had been accustomed to lie for so many Years,
and I had also told a Lie, just the Moment before.

_Phil. _ An admirable Piece of Witchcraft.

_Pseud. _ Well, but now you have been forewarn'd, prick up your Ears,
listen attentively, and see if you can catch me in a Lie.

_Phil. _ I do prick them up; say on.

_Pseud. _ I have said already, and you have imitated me in lying.

_Phil. _ Why, you'll persuade me I have neither Ears nor Eyes by and by.

_Pseud. _ When Mens Ears are immoveable, and can neither be prick'd up
nor let down, I told a Lie in bidding you prick up your Ears.

_Phil. _ The whole Life of Man is full of such Lies.

_Pseud. _ Not only such as these, O good Man, for these are but Jokes:
But there are those that bring Profit.

_Phil. _ The Gain that is got by Lying, is more sordid, than that which
is got by laying a Tax on Urine.

_Pseud. _ That is true, I own; but then 'tis to those that han't the Art
of lying.

_Phil. _ What Art is this that you understand?

_Pseud. _ It is not fit I should teach you for nothing; pay me, and you
shall hear it.

_Phil. _ I will not pay for bad Arts.

_Pseud. _ Then will you give away your Estate?

_Phil. _ I am not so mad neither.

_Pseud. _ But my Gain by this Art is more certain than yours from your
Estate.

_Phil. _ Well, keep your Art to yourself, only give me a Specimen that I
may understand that what you say is not all Pretence.

_Pseud. _ Here's a Specimen for you: I concern myself in all Manner of
Business, I buy, I sell, I receive, I borrow, I take Pawns.

_Phil. _ Well, what then?

_Pseud. _ And in these Affairs I entrap those by whom I cannot easily be
caught.

_Phil. _ Who are those?

_Pseud. _ The soft-headed, the forgetful, the unthinking, those that live
a great Way off, and those that are dead.

_Phil. _ The Dead, to be sure, tell no Tales.

_Pseud. _ If I sell any Thing upon Credit, I set it down carefully in my
Book of Accounts.

_Phil. _ And what then?

_Pseud. _ When the Money is to be paid, I charge the Buyer with more than
he had. If he is unthinking or forgetful, my Gain is certain.

_Phil. _ But what if he catches you?

_Pseud. _ I produce my Book of Accounts.

_Phil. _ What if he informs you, and proves to your Face he has not had
the Goods you charge him with?

_Pseud. _ I stand to it stiffly; for Bashfulness is altogether an
unprofitable Qualification in this Art. My last Shift is, I frame some
Excuse or other.

_Phil. _ But when you are caught openly?

_Pseud. _ Nothing's more easy, I pretend my Servant has made a Mistake,
or I myself have a treacherous Memory: It is a very pretty Way to jumble
the Accounts together, and this is an easy Way to impose on a Person: As
for Example, some are cross'd out, the Money being paid, and others have
not been paid; these I mingle one with another at the latter End of the
Book, nothing being cross'd out. When the Sum is cast up, we contend
about it, and I for the most Part get the better, tho' it be by
forswearing myself. Then besides, I have this Trick, I make up my
Account with a Person when he is just going a Journey, and not prepared
for the Settling it. For as for me, I am always ready. If any Thing be
left with me, I conceal it, and restore it not again. It is a long Time
before he can come to the Knowledge of it, to whom it is sent; and,
after all, if I can't deny the receiving of a Thing, I say it is lost,
or else affirm I have sent that which I have not sent, and charge it
upon the Carrier. And lastly, if I can no Way avoid restoring it, I
restore but Part of it.

_Phil. _ A very fine Art.

_Pseud. _ Sometimes I receive Money twice over, if I can: First at Home,
afterwards there where I have gone, and I am every where. Sometimes
Length of Time puts Things out of Remembrance: The Accounts are
perplexed, one dies, or goes a long Journey: And if nothing else will
hit, in the mean Time I make Use of other People's Money. I bring some
over to my Interest, by a Shew of Generosity, that they may help me out
in lying; but it is always at other People's Cost; of my own, I would
not give my own Mother a Doit. And tho' the Gain in each Particular may
be but small; but being many put together, makes a good round Sum; for
as I said, I concern myself in a great many Affairs; and besides all,
that I may not be catch'd, as there are many Tricks, this is one of the
chief. I intercept all the Letters I can, open them, and read them. If
any Thing in them makes against me, I destroy them, or keep them a long
Time before I deliver them: And besides all this, I sow Discord between
those that live at a great Distance one from another.

_Phil. _ What do you get by that?

_Pseud. _ There is a double Advantage in it. First of all, if that is not
performed that I have promised in another Person's Name, or in whose
Name I have received any Present, I lay it to this or that Man's Door,
that it was not performed, and so these Forgeries I make turn to a
considerable Account.

_Phil. _ But what if he denies it?

_Pseud. _ He's a great Way off, as suppose at _Basil_; and I promise to
give it in _England. _ And so it is brought about, that both being
incensed, neither will believe the one the other, if I accuse them of
any Thing. Now you have a Specimen of my Art.

_Phil. _ But this Art is what we Dullards call Theft; who call a Fig a
Fig, and a Spade a Spade.

_Pseud. _ O Ignoramus in the Law! Can you bring an Action of Theft for
Trover or Conversion, or for one that having borrow'd a Thing forswears
it, that puts a Trick upon one, by some such Artifice?

_Phil. _ He ought to be sued for Theft.

_Pseud. _ Do but then see the Prudence of Artists. From these Methods
there is more Gain, or at least as much, and less Danger.

_Phil. _ A Mischief take you, with your cheating Tricks and Lies, for I
han't a Mind to learn 'em. Good by to ye.

_Pseud. _ You may go on, and be plagu'd with your ragged Truth. In the
mean Time, I'll live merrily upon my thieving, lying Tricks, with Slight
of Hand.




_The SHIPWRECK. _


The ARGUMENT.

Naufragium _exposes the Dangers of those that go to Sea;
the various and foolish Superstition of Mariners. An
elegant Description of a Storm. They indeed run a Risque
that throw their valuable Commodities into the Sea.
Mariners impiously invoke the Virgin_ Mary, _St. _
Christopher, _and the Sea itself. Saints are not to be
pray'd to, but God alone. _


ANTONY _and_ ADOLPH.

_Ant. _ You tell dreadful Stories: Is this going to Sea? God forbid that
ever any such Thing should come into my Mind.

_Adol. _ That which I have related, is but a Diversion, in Comparison to
what you'll hear presently.

_Ant. _ I have heard Calamities enough already, my Flesh trembles to hear
you relate them, as if I were in Danger myself.

_Adol. _ But Dangers that are past, are pleasant to be thought on. One
thing happen'd that Night, that almost put the Pilot out of all Hopes of
Safety.

_Ant. _ Pray what was that?

_Adol.
_ The Night was something lightish, and one of the Sailors was got
into the Skuttle (so I think they call it) at the Main-Top-Mast, looking
out if he could see any Land; a certain Ball of Fire began to stand by
him, which is the worst Sign in the World to Sailors, if it be single;
but a very good one, if double. The Antients believed these to be
_Castor_ and _Pollux_.

_Ant. _ What have they to do with Sailors, one of which was a Horseman,
and the other a Prize-Fighter?

_Adol. _ It was the Pleasure of Poets, so to feign. The Steersman who sat
at the Helm, calls to him, Mate, says he, (for so Sailors call one
another) don't you see what a Companion you have by your Side? I do see,
says he, and I pray that he may be a lucky one. By and by this fiery
Ball glides down the Ropes, and rolls itself over and over close to the
Pilot.

_Ant. _ And was not he frighted out of his Wits?

_Adol. _ Sailors are us'd to terrible Sights. It stopp'd a little there,
then roll'd itself all round the Sides of the Ship; after that, slipping
through the Hatches, it vanished away. About Noon the Storm began to
increase. Did you ever see the _Alps_?

_Ant. _ I have seen them.

_Adol. _ Those Mountains are Mole Hills, if they be compar'd to the Waves
of the Sea. As oft as we were toss'd up, one might have touch'd the Moon
with his Finger; and as oft as we were let fall down into the Sea, we
seem'd to be going directly down to Hell, the Earth gaping to receive
us.

_Ant. _ O mad Folks, that trust themselves to the Sea!

_Adol. _ The Mariners striving in Vain with the Storm, at length the
Pilot, all pale as Death comes to us.

_Ant. _ That Paleness presages some great Evil.

_Adol. _ My Friends, says he, I am no longer Master of my Ship, the Wind
has got the better of me; all that we have now to do is to place our
Hope in God, and every one to prepare himself for Death.

_Ant. _ This was cold Comfort.

_Adol. _ But in the first Place, says he, we must lighten the Ship;
Necessity requires it, tho' 'tis a hard Portion. It is better to
endeavour to save our Lives with the Loss of our Goods, than to perish
with them. The Truth persuaded, and a great many Casks of rich
Merchandize were thrown over-Board. _Ant. _ This was casting away,
according to the Letter.

_Adol. _ There was in the Company, a certain _Italian_, that had been
upon an Embassy to the King of _Scotland_. He had a whole Cabinet full
of Plate, Rings, Cloth, and rich wearing Apparel.

_Ant. _ And he, I warrant ye, was unwilling to come to a Composition with
the Sea.

_Adol. _ No, he would not; he had a Mind either to sink or swim with his
beloved Riches.

_Ant. _ What said the Pilot to this?

_Adol. _ If you and your Trinkets were to drown by yourselves, says he,
here's no Body would hinder you; but it is not fit that we should run
the Risque of our Lives, for the Sake of your Cabinet: If you won't
consent, we'll throw you and your Cabinet into the Sea together.

_Ant. _ Spoken like a Tarpawlin.

_Adol. _ So the Italian submitted, and threw his Goods over-Board, with
many a bitter Curse to the Gods both above and below, that he had
committed his Life to so barbarous an Element.

_Ant. _ I know the Italian Humour.

_Adol. _ The Winds were nothing the less boisterous for our Presents, but
by and by burst our Cordage, and threw down our Sails.

_Ant. _ Lamentable!

_Adol. _ Then the Pilot comes to us again.

_Ant. _ What, with another Preachment?

_Adol. _ He gives us a Salute; my Friends, says he, the Time exhorts us
that every one of us should recommend himself to God, and prepare for
Death. Being ask'd by some that were not ignorant in Sea Affairs, how
long he thought the Ship might be kept above Water, he said, he could
promise nothing, but that it could not be done above three Hours.

_Ant. _ This was yet a harder Chapter than the former.

_Adol. _ When he had said this, he orders to cut the Shrouds and the Mast
down by the Board, and to throw them, Sails and all, into the Sea.

_Ant. _ Why was this done?

_Adol. _ Because, the Sail either being gone or torn, it would only be a
Burden, but not of Use; all our Hope was in the Helm.

_Ant. _ What did the Passengers do in the mean Time?

_Adol. _ There you might have seen a wretched Face of Things; the
Mariners, they were singing their _Salve Regina_, imploring the Virgin
Mother, calling her the Star of the Sea, the Queen of Heaven, the Lady
of the World, the Haven of Health, and many other flattering Titles,
which the sacred Scriptures never attributed to her.

_Ant. _ What has she to do with the Sea, who, as I believe, never went a
Voyage in her Life?

_Adol. _ In ancient Times, _Venus_ took Care of Mariners, because she was
believ'd to be born of the Sea and because she left off to take Care of
them, the Virgin Mother was put in her Place, that was a Mother, but not
a Virgin.

_Ant. _ You joke.

_Adol. _ Some were lying along upon the Boards, worshipping the Sea,
pouring all they had into it, and flattering it, as if it had been some
incensed Prince.

_Ant. _ What did they say?

_Adol. _ O most merciful Sea! O most generous Sea! O most rich Sea! O
most beautiful Sea, be pacified, save us; and a Deal of such Stuff they
sung to the deaf Ocean.

_Ant. _ Ridiculous Superstition! What did the rest do?

_Adol. _ Some did nothing but spew, and some made Vows. There was an
_Englishman_ there, that promis'd golden Mountains to our Lady of
_Walsingham_, so he did but get ashore alive. Others promis'd a great
many Things to the Wood of the Cross, which was in such a Place; others
again, to that which was in such a Place; and the same was done by the
Virgin _Mary_, which reigns in a great many Places, and they think the
Vow is of no Effect, unless the Place be mentioned.

_Ant. _ Ridiculous! As if the Saints did not dwell in Heaven.

_Adol. _ Some made Promises to become _Carthusians_. There was one who
promised he would go a _Pilgrimage_ to St. _James_ at _Compostella_,
bare Foot and bare Head, cloth'd in a Coat of Mail, and begging his
Bread all the Way.

_Ant. _ Did no Body make any Mention of St. _Christopher_?

_Adol. _ Yes, I heard one, and I could not forbear laughing, who bawling
out aloud, lest St. _Christopher_ should not hear him, promised him, who
is at the Top of a Church at _Paris_, rather a Mountain than a Statue, a
wax Taper as big as he was himself: When he had bawl'd out this over and
over as loud as he could, an Acquaintance of his jogg'd him on the
Elbow, and caution'd him: Have a Care what you promise, for if you
should sell all you have in the World, you will not be able to pay for
it. He answer'd him softly, lest St. _Christopher_ should hear him, you
Fool, says he, do you think I mean as I speak, if I once got safe to
Shore, I would not give him so much as a tallow Candle.

_Ant. _ O Blockhead! I fancy he was a _Hollander_.

_Adol. _ No, he was a _Zealander_.

_Ant. _ I wonder no Body thought of St. _Paul_, who has been at Sea, and
having suffered Shipwreck, leapt on Shore. For he being not unacquainted
with the Distress, knows how to pity those that are in it.

_Adol. _ He was not so much as named.

_Ant. _ Were they at their Prayers all the While?

_Adol. _ Ay, as if it had been for a Wager. One sung his _Hail Queen_;
another, _I believe in God_. There were some who had certain particular
Prayers not unlike magical Charms against Dangers.

_Ant. _ How Affliction makes Men religious! In Prosperity we neither
think of God nor Saint. But what did you do all this While? Did you not
make Vows to some Saints?

_Adol. _ No, none at all.

_Ant. _ Why so?

_Adol. _ I make no Bargains with Saints. For what is this but a Bargain
in Form? I'll give you, if you do so and so; or I will do so and so, if
you do so and so: I'll give you a wax Taper, if I swim out alive; I'll
go to _Rome_, if you save me.

_Ant. _ But did you call upon none of the Saints for Help?

_Adol. _ No, not so much as that neither.

_Ant. _ Why so?

_Adol. _ Because Heaven is a large Place, and if I should recommend my
Safety to any Saint, as suppose, to St. _Peter_, who perhaps, would hear
soonest, because he stands at the Door; before he can come to God
Almighty, or before he could tell him my Condition, I may be lost.

_Ant. _ What did you do then?

_Adol. _ I e'en went the next Way to God the Father, saying, _Our Father
which art in Heaven_. There's none of the Saints hears sooner than he
does, or more readily gives what is ask'd for.

_Ant. _ But in the mean Time did not your Conscience check you? Was you
not afraid to call him Father, whom you had offended with so many
Wickednesses?

_Adol. _ To speak ingenuously, my Conscience did a little terrify me at
first, but I presently took Heart again, thus reasoning with myself;
There is no Father so angry with his Son, but if he sees him in Danger
of being drowned in a River or Pond, he will take him, tho' it be by the
Hair of the Head, and throw him out upon a Bank. There was no Body among
them all behaved herself more composed than a Woman, who had a Child
sucking at her Breast.

_Ant. _ What did she do?

_Adol. _ She only neither bawl'd, nor wept, nor made Vows, but hugging
her little Boy, pray'd softly. In the mean Time the Ship dashing ever
and anon against the Ground, the Pilot being afraid she would be beat
all to Pieces, under-girded her with Cables from Head to Stern.

_Ant. _ That was a sad Shift!

_Adol. _ Upon this, up starts an old Priest about threescore Years of
Age, his Name was _Adam_. He strips himself to his Shirt, throws away
his Boots and Shoes, and bids us all in like Manner to prepare ourselves
for swimming. Then standing in the middle of the Ship, he preach'd a
Sermon to us, upon the five Truths of the Benefit of Confession, and
exhorted every Man to prepare himself, for either Life or Death. There
was a _Dominican_ there too, and they confess'd those that had a Mind to
it.

_Ant. _ What did you do?

_Adol. _ I seeing that every thing was in a Hurry, confess'd privately to
God, condemning before him my Iniquity, and imploring his Mercy.

_Ant. _ And whither should you have gone, do you think, if you had
perished?

_Adol. _ I left that to God, who is my Judge; I would not be my own
Judge. But I was not without comfortable Hopes neither. While these
Things were transacting, the Steersman comes to us again all in Tears;
Prepare your selves every one of you, says he, for the Ship will be of
no Service to us for a quarter of an Hour. For now she leak'd in several
Places. Presently after this he brings us Word that he saw a Steeple a
good Way off, and exhorts us to implore the Aid of that Saint, whoever
it was, who had the protection of that Temple. They all fall down and
pray to the unknown Saint.

_Ant. _ Perhaps he would have heard ye, if ye had call'd upon him by his
Name.

_Adol. _ But that we did not know. In the mean Time the Pilate steers the
Ship, torn and leaking every where, and ready to fall in Pieces, if she
had not been undergirt with Cables, as much as he could toward that
Place.

_Ant. _ A miserable Condition.

_Adol. _ We were now come so near the Shoar, that the Inhabitants of the
Place could see us in Distress, and ran down in Throngs to the utmost
Edge of the Shoar, and holding up Gowns and Hats upon Spears, invited us
to make towards them, and stretching out their Arms towards Heaven,
signified to us that they pitied our Misfortune.

_Ant. _ I long to know what happened.

_Adol.