No More Learning

Says he,
take your Choice, which you will of all my Horses; you cannot have your
own. I ask'd him, why so? Because, says he, he is sold. Then I pretended
to be in a great Passion; God forbid, says I; as this Journey has
happen'd, I would not sell him, if any Man would offer me four Times his
Price. I fell to wrangling, and cry out, I am ruin'd: At Length he grew
a little warm too: What Occasion is there for all this Contention: You
set a Price upon your Horse, and I have sold him; if I pay you your
Money, you have nothing more to do to me; we have Laws in this City, and
you can't compel me to produce the Horse. When I had clamoured a good
While, that he would either produce the Horse, or the Man that bought
him: He at last pays me down the Money in a Passion. I had bought him
for fifteen Guineas, I set him to him at twenty six, and he had valued
him at thirty two, and so computed with himself he had better make that
Profit of him, than restore the Horse. I go away, as if I was vex'd in
my Mind, and scarcely pacified, tho' the Money was paid me: He desires
me not to take it amiss, he would make me Amends some other Way: So I
bit the Biter: He has a Horse not worth a Groat; he expected that he
that had given him the Earnest, should come and pay him the Money; but
no Body came, nor ever will come.

_Aul. _ But in the mean Time, did he never expostulate the Matter with
you?

_Ph. _ With what Face or Colour could he do that? I have met him over
and over since, and he complain'd of the Unfairness of the Buyer: But I
often reason'd the Matter with him, and told him, he deserv'd to be so
serv'd, who by his hasty Sale of him, had depriv'd me of my Horse. This
was a Fraud so well plac'd, in my Opinion, that I could not find in my
Heart to confess it as a Fault.

_Aul. _ If I had done such a Thing, I should have been so far from
confessing it as a Fault, that I should have requir'd a Statue for it.

_Ph. _ I can't tell whether you speak as you think or no; but you set me
agog however, to be paying more of these Fellows in their own Coin.




_The BEGGARS DIALOGUE. _


The ARGUMENT.

_The Beggars Dialogue paints out the cheating, crafty
Tricks of Beggars, who make a Shew of being full of
Sores, and make a Profession of Palmistry, and other Arts
by which they impose upon many Persons. Nothing is more
like Kingship, than the Life of a Beggar. _


IRIDES, MISOPONUS.

_Ir. _ What new Sort of Bird is this I see flying here? I know the Face,
but the Cloaths don't suit it. If I'm not quite mistaken, this is
_Misoponus_. I'll venture to speak to him, as ragged as I am. God save
you, _Misoponus_.

_Mis. _ Hold your Tongue, I say.

_Ir. _ What's the Matter, mayn't a Body salute you?

_Mis. _ Not by that Name.

_Ir. _ Why, what has happen'd to you? Are you not the same Man that you
was? What, have you changed your Name with your Cloaths?

_Mis. _ No, but I have taken up my old Name again.

_Ir. _ Who was you then?

_Mis. _ _Apitius_.

_Ir. _ Never be asham'd of your old Acquaintance, if any Thing of a
better Fortune has happen'd to you. It is not long since you belong'd to
our Order.

_Mis. _ Prithee, come hither, and I'll tell you the whole Story. I am not
asham'd of your Order; but I am asham'd of the Order that I was first of
myself.

_Ir. _ What Order do you mean? That of the _Franciscans_?

_Mis. _ No, by no Means, my good Friend; but the Order of the
Spendthrifts.

_Ir. _ In Truth, you have a great many Companions of that Order.

_Mis. _ I had a good Fortune, I spent lavishly, and when I began to be in
Want, no Body knew _Apitius_. I ran away for Shame, and betook myself to
your College: I lik'd that better than digging.

_Ir. _ Very wisely done; but how comes your Body to be in so good Case of
late? For as to your Change of Cloaths, I don't so much wonder at that.

_Mis. _ Why so?

_Ir. _ Because the Goddess _Laverna_ makes many rich on a sudden.

_Mis. _ What! do you think I got an Estate by Thieving then?

_Ir. _ Nay, perhaps more idly, by Rapine.

_Mis. _ No, I swear by your Goddess _Penia_, neither by Thieving, nor by
Rapine. But first I'll satisfy you as to the State of my Body, which
seems to you to be the most admirable.

_Ir. _ For when you were with us, you were all over full of Sores.

_Mis. _ But I have since made Use of a very friendly Physician.

_Ir. _ Who?

_Mis. _ No other Person but myself, unless you think any Body is more
friendly to me, than I am to myself.

_Ir. _ But I never knew you understood Physick before.

_Mis. _ Why all that Dress was nothing but a Cheat I had daub'd on with
Paints, Frankincense, Brimstone, Rosin, Birdlime, and Clouts dipp'd in
Blood; and what I put on, when I pleas'd I took off again.

_Ir. _ O Impostor! Nothing appear'd more miserable than you were. You
might have acted the Part of Job in a Tragedy.

_Mis. _ My Necessity made me do it, though Fortune sometimes is apt to
change the Skin too.

_Ir. _ Well then, tell me of your Fortune. Have you found a Treasure?

_Mis. _ No; but I have found out a Way of getting Money that's a little
better than yours.

_Ir. _ What could you get Money out of, that had no Stock?

_Mis. _ _An Artist will live any where. _

_Ir. _ I understand you now, you mean the Art of picking Pockets.

_Mis. _ Not so hard upon me, I pray; I mean the Art of Chymistry.

_Ir. _ Why 'tis scarce above a Fortnight, since you went away from us,
and have you in that Time learn'd an Art, that others can hardly learn
in many Years?

_Mis. _ But I have got a shorter Way.

_Ir. _ Prithee, what Way?

_Mis. _ When I had gotten almost four Guineas by your Art, I happened, as
good Luck would have it, to fall into the Company of an old Companion of
mine, who had manag'd his Matters in the World no better than I had
done. We went to drink together; he began, as the common Custom is, to
tell of his Adventures. I made a Bargain with him to pay his Reckoning,
upon Condition that he should faithfully teach me his Art. He taught it
me very honestly, and now 'tis my Livelihood.

_Ir. _ Mayn't a Body learn it?

_Mis. _ I'll teach it you for nothing, for old Acquaintance Sake. You
know, that there are every where a great many that are very fond of this
Art.

_Ir. _ I have heard so, and I believe it is true.

_Mis. _ I take all Opportunities of insinuating myself into their
Acquaintance, and talk big of my Art, and where-ever I find an hungry
Sea-Cob, I throw him out a Bait.

_Ir. _ How do you do that?

_Mis. _ I caution him by all Means, not rashly to trust Men of that
Profession, for that they are most of them Cheats, that by their _hocus
pocus_ Tricks, pick the Pockets of those that are not cautious.

_Ir. _ That Prologue is not fit for your Business.

_Mis. _ Nay, I add this further, that I would not have them believe me
myself, unless they saw the Matter plainly with their own Eyes, and felt
it with their Hands.

_Ir. _ You speak of a wonderful Confidence you have in your Art.

_Mis. _ I bid them be present all the While the Metamorphosis is under
the Operation, and to look on very attentively, and that they may have
the less Reason to doubt, to perform the whole Operation with their own
Hands, while I stand at a Distance, and don't so much as put my Finger
to it. I put them to refine the melted Matter themselves, or carry it to
the Refiners to be done; I tell them beforehand, how much Silver or Gold
it will afford: And in the last Place, I bid them carry the melted Mass
to several Goldsmiths, to have it try'd by the Touchstone. They find the
exact Weight that I told them; they find it to be the finest Gold or
Silver, it is all one to me which it is, except that the Experiment in
Silver is the less chargeable to me.

_Ir. _ But has your Art no Cheat in it?

_Mis. _ It is a mere Cheat all over.

_Ir. _ I can't see where the Cheat lies.

_Mis. _ I'll make you see it presently. I first make a Bargain for my
Reward, but I won't be paid before I have given a Proof of the Thing
itself: I give them a little Powder, as though the whole Business was
effected by the Virtue of that; but I never tell them how to make it,
except they purchase it at a very great Price. And I make them take an
Oath, that for six Months they shall not discover the Secret to any Body
living.

_Ir. _ But I han't heard the Cheat yet.

_Mis. _ The whole Mystery lies in one Coal, that I have prepared for this
Purpose. I make a Coal hollow, and into it I pour melted Silver, to the
Quantity I tell them before-Hand will be produc'd. And after the Powder
is put in, I set the Pot in such a Manner, that it is cover'd all over,
above, beneath, and Sides, with Coals, and I persuade them, that the Art
consists in that; among those Coals that are laid at Top, I put in one
that has the Silver or Gold in it, that being melted by the Heat of the
Fire, falls down among the other Metal, which melts, as suppose Tin or
Brass, and upon the Separation, it is found and taken out.

_Ir. _ A ready Way; but, how do you manage the Fallacy, when another does
it all with his own Hands?

_Mis. _ When he has done every Thing, according to my Direction, before
the Crucible is stirr'd, I come and look about, to see if nothing has
been omitted, and then I say, that there seems to want a Coal or two at
the Top, and pretending to take one out of the Coal-Heap, I privately
lay on one of my own, or have laid it there ready before-Hand, which I
can take, and no Body know any Thing of the Matter.

_Ir. _ But when they try to do this without you, and it does not succeed,
what Excuse have you to make?

_Mis. _ I'm safe enough when I have got my Money. I pretend one Thing or
other, either that the Crucible was crack'd, or the Coals naught, or the
Fire not well tempered. And in the last Place, one Part of the Mystery
of my Profession is, never to stay long in the same Place.

_Ir. _ And is there so much Profit in this Art as to maintain you?

_Mis. _ Yes, and nobly too: And I would have you, for the future, if you
are wise, leave off that wretched Trade of Begging, and follow ours.

_Ir. _ Nay, I should rather chuse to bring you back to our Trade.

_Mis. _ What, that I should voluntarily return again to that I have
escap'd from, and forsake that which I have found profitable?

_Ir. _ This Profession of ours has this Property in it, that it grows
pleasant by Custom. And thence it is, that tho' many have fallen off
from the Order of St. _Francis_ or St. _Benedict_, did you ever know
any that had been long in our Order, quit it? For you could scarce taste
the Sweetness of Beggary in so few Months as you follow'd it.

_Mis. _ That little Taste I had of it taught me, that it was the most
wretched Life in Nature.

_Ir. _ Why does no Body quit it then?

_Mis. _ Perhaps, because they are naturally wretched.

_Ir. _ I would not change this Wretchedness, for the Fortune of a King.
For there is nothing more like a King, than the Life of a Beggar.

_Mis. _ What strange Story do I hear? Is nothing more like Snow than a
Coal?

_Ir. _ Wherein consists the greatest Happiness of Kings?

_Mis. _ Because in that they can do what they please.

_Ir. _ As for that Liberty, than which nothing is sweeter, we have more
of it than any King upon Earth; and I don't doubt, but there are many
Kings that envy us Beggars. Let there be War or Peace we live secure, we
are not press'd for Soldiers, nor put upon Parish-Offices, nor taxed.
When the People are loaded with Taxes, there's no Scrutiny into our Way
of Living. If we commit any Thing that is illegal, who will sue a
Beggar? If we beat a Man, he will be asham'd to fight with a Beggar?
Kings can't live at Ease neither in War or in Peace, and the greater
they are, the greater are their Fears. The common People are afraid to
offend us, out of a certain Sort of Reverence, as being consecrated to
God.

_Mis. _ But then, how nasty are ye in your Rags and Kennels?

_Ir. _ What do they signify to real Happiness. Those Things you speak of
are out of a Man. We owe our Happiness to these Rags.

_Mis. _ But I am afraid a good Part of your Happiness will fail you in a
short Time.

_Ir. _ How so?

_Mis. _ Because I have heard a Talk in the Cities, that there will be a
Law, that Mendicants shan't be allow'd to stroll about at their
Pleasure, but every City shall maintain its own Poor; and that they that
are able shall be made to work.

_Ir. _ What Reason have they for this?

_Mis. _ Because they find great Rogueries committed under Pretence of
Begging, and that there are great Inconveniencies arise to the Publick
from your Order.

_Ir. _ Ay, I have heard these Stones Time after Time, and they'll bring
it about when the Devil's blind.

_Mis. _ Perhaps sooner than you'd have it.




_The FABULOUS FEAST. _


The ARGUMENT.

_The fabulous Feast contains various Stories and pleasant
Tales. _ Maccus _puts a Trick upon a Shoe-maker. A
Fruiterer is put upon about her Figs. A very clever Cheat
of a Priest, in relation to Money. _ Lewis _the Eleventh,
King of_ France, _eats some of a Country-Man's Turnips,
and gives him 1000 Crowns for an extraordinary large one
that he made a Present of to him. A certain Man takes a
Louse off of the King's Garment, and the King gives him
40 Crowns for it. The Courtiers are trick'd. One asks for
an Office, or some publick Employment. To deny a Kindness
presently, is to bestow a Benefit. _ Maximilian _was very
merciful to his Debtors. An old Priest Cheats an Usurer. _
Anthony _salutes one upon letting a Fart, saying the
Backside was the cleanest Part of the Body. _


POLYMYTHUS, GELASINUS, EUTRAPELUS, ASTÆUS, PHILYTHLUS,
PHILOGELOS, EUGLOTTUS, LEROCHARES, ADOLESCHES, LEVINUS.

_Pol. _ As it is unfitting for a well order'd City to be without Laws and
without a Governor; so neither ought a Feast to be without Orders and a
President.

_Ge. _ If I may speak for the rest, I like it very well.

_Po. _ Soho, Sirrah! bring hither the Dice, the Matter shall be
determin'd by their Votes; he shall be our President that _Jupiter_
shall favour. O brave! _Eutrapelus_ has it, the fittest Man that could
be chosen, if we had every individual Man of us thrown. There is an
usual Proverb, that has more Truth in't than good Latin, _Novus Rex nova
Lex, New Lords new Laws_. Therefore, King, make thou Laws.

_Eut. _ That this may be a merry and happy Banquet, in the first Place I
command, that no Man tell a Story but what is a ridiculous one. He that
shall have no Story to tell, shall pay a Groat, to be spent in Wine; and
Stories invented extempore shall be allow'd as legitimate, provided
Regard be had to Probability and Decency. If no Body shall want a Story,
let those two that tell, the one the pleasantest, and the other the
dullest, pay for Wine. Let the Master of the Feast be at no Charge for
Wine, but only for the Provisions of the Feast. If any Difference about
this Matter shall happen, let _Gelasinus_ be Judge. If you agree to
these Conditions, let 'em be ratified. He that won't observe the Orders,
let him be gone, but with Liberty to come again to a Collation the next
Day.

_Ge. _ We give our Votes for the Passing the Bill our King has brought
in. But who must tell the first Story?

_Eut. _ Who should, but the Master of the Feast?

_As. _ But, Mr. King, may I have the liberty to speak three Words?

_Eut. _ What, do you take the Feast to be an unlucky one?

_As. _ The Lawyers deny that to be Law that is not just.

_Eut. _ I grant it.

_As. _ Your Law makes the best and worst Stories equal.

_Eut. _ Where Diversion is the Thing aim'd at, there he deserves as much
Commendation who tells the worst, as he that tells the best Story,
because it affords as much Merriment; as amongst Songsters none are
admir'd but they that sing very well, or they that sing very ill. Do not
more laugh to hear the Cuckoo than to hear the Nightingal? In this Case
Mediocrity is not Praise-worthy.

_As. _ But pray, why must they be punish'd, that carry off the Prize?

_Eut. _ Lest their too great Felicity should expose them to Envy, if they
should carry away the Prize, and go Shot-free too.

_As. _ By _Bacchus, Minos_ himself never made a juster Law.

_Phily. _ Do you make no Order as to the Method of Drinking?

_Eut. _ Having consider'd the Matter, I will follow the Example of
_Agesilaus_ King of the _Lacedæmonians_.

_Phily. _ What did he do?

_Eut. _ Upon a certain Time, he being by Lot chosen Master of the Feast,
when the Marshal of the Hall ask'd him, how much Wine he should set
before every Man; If, says he, you have a great Deal of Wine, let every
Man have as much as he calls for, but if you're scarce of Wine, give
every Man equally alike.

_Phily. _ What did the _Lacedæmonian_ mean by that?

_Eut. _ He did this, that it might neither be a drunken Feast, nor a
querulous one.

_Phily. _ Why so?

_Eut. _ Because some like to drink plentifully, and some sparingly, and
some drink no Wine at all; such an one _Romulus_ is said to have been.
For if no Body has any Wine but what he asks for, in the first Place no
Body is compell'd to drink, and there is no Want to them that love to
drink more plentifully. And so it comes to pass that no Body is
melancholy at the Table. And again, if of a less quantity of Wine every
one has an equal Portion, they that drink moderately have enough; nor
can any Body complain in an Equality, and they that would have drank
more largely, are contentedly temperate.

_Eut. _ If you like it, this is the Example I would imitate, for I would
have this Feast to be a fabulous, but not a drunken one.

_Phily. _ But what did _Romulus_ drink then?

_Eut. _ The same that Dogs drink.

_Phily. _ Was not that unbeseeming a King?

_Eut. _ No more than it is unseemly for a King to draw the same Air that
Dogs do, unless there is this Difference, that a King does not drink the
very same Water that a Dog drank, but a Dog draws in the very same Air
that the King breath'd out; and on the contrary, the King draws in the
very same Air that the Dog breath'd out. It would have been much more to
_Alexander_'s, Glory, if he had drank with the Dogs. For there is
nothing worse for a King, who has the Care of so many thousand Persons,
than Drunkenness. But the Apothegm that _Romulus_ very wittily made Use
of, shews plainly that he was no Wine-Drinker. For when a certain
Person, taking Notice of his abstaining from Wine, said to him, that
Wine would be very cheap, if all Men drank as he did; nay, says he, in
my Opinion it would be very dear, if all Men drank it as I drink; for I
drink as much as I please.

_Ge. _ I wish our _John Botzemus_, the Canon of _Constance_, was here;
he'd look like another _Romulus_ to us: For he is as abstemious, as he
is reported to have been; but nevertheless, he is a good-humoured,
facetious Companion.

_Po. _ But come on, if you can, I won't say _drink and blow_, which
_Plautus_ says is a hard Matter to do, but if you can eat and hear at
one and the same Time, which is a very easy Matter, I'll begin the
Exercise of telling Stories, and auspiciously. If the Story be not a
pleasant one, remember 'tis a _Dutch_ one. I suppose some of you have
heard of the Name of _Maccus_?

_Ge. _ Yes, he has not been dead long.

_Po. _ He coming once to the City of _Leiden_, and being a Stranger
there, had a Mind to make himself taken Notice of for an arch Trick (for
that was his Humour); he goes into a Shoemaker's Shop, and salutes him.
The Shoemaker, desirous to sell his Ware, asks him what he would buy:
_Maccus_ setting his Eyes upon a Pair of Boots that hung up there, the
Shoemaker ask'd him if he'd buy any Boots; _Maccus_ assenting to it, he
looks out a Pair that would fit him, and when he had found 'em brings
'em out very readily, and, as the usual Way is, draws 'em on. _Maccus_
being very well fitted with a Pair of Boots, How well, says he, would a
Pair of double soal'd Shoes agree with these Boots? The Shoemaker asks
him, if he would have a Pair of Shoes too. He assents, a Pair is look'd
out presently and put on. _Maccus_ commends the Boots, commends the
Shoes. The Shoemaker glad in his Mind to hear him talk so, seconds him
as he commended 'em, hoping to get a better Price, since the Customer
lik'd his Goods so well. And by this Time they were grown a little
familiar; then says _Maccus_, Tell me upon your Word, whether it never
was your Hap, when you had fitted a Man with Boots and Shoes, as you
have me, to have him go away without paying for 'em? No, never in all my
Life, says he. But, says _Maccus_, if such a Thing should happen to you,
what would you do in the Case? Why, quoth the Shoemaker, I'd run after
him. Then says _Maccus_, but are you in Jest or in Earnest? In Earnest,
says the other, and I'd do it in Earnest too. Says _Maccus_, I'll try
whether you will or no. See I run for the Shoes, and you're to follow
me, and out he runs in a Minute; the Shoemaker follows him immediately
as fast as ever he could run, crying out, Stop Thief, stop Thief; this
Noise brings the People out of their Houses: _Maccus_ laughing, hinders
them from laying Hold of him by this Device, Don't stop me, says he, we
are running a Race for a Wager of a Pot of Ale; and so they all stood
still and look'd on, thinking the Shoemaker had craftily made that
Out-cry that he might have the Opportunity to get before him. At last
the Shoemaker, being tir'd with running, gives out, and goes sweating,
puffing and blowing Home again: So _Maccus_ got the Prize.

_Ge. _ _Maccus_ indeed escap'd the Shoemaker, but did not escape the
Thief.

_Po. _ Why so?

_Ge. _ Because he carried the Thief along with him.

_Po. _ Perhaps he might not have Money at that Time, but paid for 'em
afterwards.

_Ge. _ He might have indicted him for a Robbery.

_Po. _ That was attempted afterwards, but now the Magistrates knew
_Maccus_.

_Ge. _ What did _Maccus_ say for himself?

_Po. _ Do you ask what he said for himself, in so good a Cause as this?
The Plaintiff was in more Danger than the Defendant.

_Ge. _ How so?

_Po. _ Because he arrested him in an Action of Defamation, and prosecuted
him upon the Statute of _Rheims_ which says, that he that charges a Man
with what he can't prove, shall suffer the Penalty, which the Defendant
was to suffer if he had been convicted. He deny'd that he had meddled
with another Man's Goods without his Leave, but that he put 'em upon
him, and that there was no Mention made of any Thing of a Price; but
that he challeng'd the Shoemaker to run for a Wager, and that he
accepted the Challenge, and that he had no Reason to complain because he
had out-run him.

_Ge. _ This Action was pretty much like that of the Shadow of the Ass.
Well, but what then?

_Po. _ When they had had laughing enough at the Matter, one of the Judges
invites _Maccus_ to Supper, and paid the Shoemaker his Money. Just such
another Thing happen'd at _Daventerv_, when I was a Boy. It was at a
Time when 'tis the Fishmonger's Fair, and the Butchers Time to be
starv'd. A certain Man stood at a Fruiterer's Stall, or Oporopolist's,
if you'd have it in _Greek_. The Woman was a very fat Woman, and he
star'd very hard upon the Ware she had to sell. She, according as the
Custom is, invites him to have what he had a Mind to; and perceiving he
set his Eyes upon some Figs, Would you please to have Figs, says she?
they are very fine ones. He gives her a Nod. She asks him how many
Pound, Would you have five Pound says she? He nods again; she turns him
five Pound into his Apron. While she is laying by her Scales, he walks
off, not in any great haste, but very gravely. When she comes out to
take her Money, her Chap was gone; she follows him, making more Noise
than Haste after him. He, taking no Notice, goes on; at last a great
many getting together at the Woman's Out-cry, he stands still, pleads
his Cause in the midst of the Multitude: there was very good Sport, he
denies that he bought any Figs of her, but that she gave 'em him freely;
if she had a Mind to have a Trial for it, he would put in an Appearance.

_Ge. _ Well, I'll tell you a Story not much unlike yours, nor perhaps not
much inferior to it, saving it has not so celebrated an Author as
_Maccus_. _Pythagoras_ divided the Market into three Sorts of Persons,
those that went thither to sell, those that went thither to buy; both
these Sorts were a careful Sort of People, and therefore unhappy: others
came to see what was there to be sold, and what was done; these only
were the happy People, because being free from Care, they took their
Pleasure freely. And this he said was the Manner that a Philosopher
convers'd in this World, as they do in a Market. But there is a fourth
Kind of Persons that walk about in our Markets, who neither buy nor
sell, nor are idle Spectators of what others do, but lie upon the Catch
to steal what they can. And of this last Sort there are some that are
wonderful dextrous. You would swear they were born under a lucky Planet.
Our Entertainer gave us a Tale with an Epilogue, I'll give you one with
a Prologue to it. Now you shall hear what happen'd lately at _Antwerp_.
An old Priest had receiv'd there a pretty handsome Sum of Money, but it
was in Silver. A Sharper has his Eye upon him; he goes to the Priest,
who had put his Money in a large Bag in his Cassock, where it boug'd
out; he salutes him very civilly, and tells him that he had Orders to
buy a Surplice, which is the chief Vestment us'd in performing Divine
Service, for the Priest of his Parish; he intreats him to lend him a
little Assistance in this Matter, and to go with him to those that sell
such Attire, that he might fit one according to his Size, because he was
much about the same Stature with the Parson of his Parish. This being
but a small Kindness, the old Priest promises to do it very readily.
They go to a certain Shop, a Surplice is shew'd 'em, the old Priest
puts it on, the Seller says, it fits him as exactly as if made for him;
the Sharper viewing the old Priest before and behind, likes the Surplice
very well, but only found Fault that it was too short before. The
Seller, lest he should lose his Customer, says, that was not the Fault
of the Surplice, but that the Bag of Money that stuck out, made it look
shorter there. To be short, the old Priest lays his Bag down; then they
view it over again, and while the old Priest stands with his Back
towards it, the Sharper catches it up, and runs away as fast as he
could: The Priest runs after him in the Surplice as he was, and the
Shop-Keeper after the Priest; the old Priest cries out, Stop Thief; the
Salesman cries out, Stop the Priest; the Sharper cries out, Stop the mad
Priest; and they took him to be mad, when they saw him run in the open
Street in such a Dress: so one hindring the other, the Sharper gets
clear off.

_Eut. _ Hanging is too good for such a Rogue.

_Ge. _ It is so, if he be not hang'd already.