Stay, Friend.

What for?

Only t'unshacle your Rope, that hangs at your heels.

Prethee, Friend, let it alone.

Faith, I must help ye; for a good turn's never thrown away upon a good Man.

I tell ye, Fellow, I've no Fish, for there has been nothing but stormy Weather since yesterday, therefore don't expect any. Don't you see I've a wet Net, and nothing in't?

I want no Fish, but only a little serious Di∣scourse.

Po, I hate your baiting Impertinence, who e'r you are.

I must n't part wi'ye so.—Stay, Man.

I'll break your Neck.—Why a Pox d' ye hold me?

Hear me a little.

Not a Word.

Faith, but you must.

Another Time, as long as you please.

Oh, but 'tis a Matter of great Importance, and must n't be put off.

Speak then; what is't?

But does no Body dog us?

What's that to me?

O much.—Can y' advise m'in one point?

What Point? Prethee be quick.

I'll tell ye, upon Promise of not betraying me.

I promise I won't betray you, who e'r you are.

Observe then: I lately discover'd a Theft, and knew th' Owner o' the stolen Goods. Whereupon, I goes streight to Mr. Thief, and offers him this Propo∣sal: I know th' Owner, says I, o'your stolen Goods; and if you'll gi'me a share, I'll ne'r discover't to him. The Fel∣low gave no Answer. Now what think ye do I deserve? Half parts? I'll be judg'd by you.

Ay, Faith, and more too; or I'd discover the Rogue to th'Owner.

I'll follow your Advise: Now take notice, this all belongs to your Case.

Why, how can that be?

I knew th' Owner o' that Portmantle this long time.

What say ye?

And I know how it was lost.

And I how it was found; and the honest Man that found it, who now is become Master of't. In good Faith, 'tis nothing to you, to know the present Owner, as I do; nor to me, to know the former, as you do.—I'll part with't to no Man, therefore pray don't flatter your self.

What not to th' Owner, if he comes?

There's no Owner but my self: I say, don't fool your self, for I caught it a fishing.

Did ye so?

And is there any Fish which don't belong to me? All that I take, are m'own, and I do what I please with 'em, no man pretending to take 'em away, or come in for a Share. I sell 'em in open Market, as my own proper Goods. For sure the Sea's common to all Men.

I grant it: And why shou'd n't I come in for a common share of't, since it comes out of a common Place?

O Impudence, Impudence! If that be Law, poor Fishermen may go hang themselves: For when they carry their Fish to Market, the de'el a bit wou'd the People buy, but all come flocking in for their Shares, pretending they were catch'd i'the common Liberty.

How, brazen Face? What compare Portman∣tles to Fish? Is there no difference think ye?

'Tis n't i'my Power to catch what I please: When ever I throw in my Tackling, all's Fish that comes to the Net. And what's catch'd, is mine, in spight of any Man.

No by Iove, if you catch a Bag instead of a Fish.

A fine Foolosopher!

Good Mr. Sorcerer, did y'ever kn•… a Man car∣ry a Fish to Market call'd a Portmantle? You musn't think to follow as many Trades as you please. You wou'd n't be Bag-maker and Fisherman at the same time, wou'd ye? Either shew me a Fish call'd a Portmantle, or you carry nothing off without Scales, and that isn't bred i'the Sea.

Prethee, Fellow, didst ne'r hear of a Portmantle-Fish?

You Dog, there's no such Fish.

Gadzooks, but there is tho? and you'll give a Fisherman leave to know his own Trade. I confess 'tis a very scarce Fish, and very few of 'em are catch'd upon our Coasts.

You'd as good say nothing: Dost think t'im∣pose upo' me, Rogue?——What Colour is it of, pray?

There are very few o'this Colour. Others are red; when they grow big, they turn Black and Blue.

Very well.—Faith, if you han't a care, I shall change you to a Portmantle-Fish; make your Sides red first, then black and blue.

What unlucky Rogue have I happen'd on to day?

We stand wrangling and lose Time: Consider to whom you'll put the Bus'ness.

To the Portmantle.

Say ye so, Goodman Fool?

God bu'y, Sir Solomon.

You must n't carry it off so, with∣out putting it into a third Man's Hands, and leaving it to others determination.

Prethee, art mad?

As a March. Hare.

And I crazy, but not enough to part from my Goods.

Speak another Word, and I'll make Mustard o' your Brains.

Let m' alone, or I'll squeez out all the Blood o' your Belly like a Sponge. If you touch it, I'll take ye by the Heels, and dash ye as dead as a Herring.—Come, I'll fight wi'ye.

Hang fighting, now we may divide the Spoil.

You'll get nothing but a broken Head here; therefore don't provoke me.——Now I'll be gone.

I shall make your Ship tack about; therefore stay.

If you be at the Head, I'll keep at the Steer∣age.—Let go the Lines, Rogue.

Shall I so? Do you let go the Portmantle.

By George, you shan't be a Sowce the better for what's in't.

Your denial argues nothing, unless you gi' me a Share, put it to reference, or into other Hands.

What I caught at Sea?

And I found at Land.

At the Price o'my Trouble, Pains, Nets, and Boat.

If th'Owner shou'd come, shou'd I, who see you take it, be counted a less Thief than you?

No, without doubt.

Stay, Hang-dog.—By what Law must I be the Thief, and not the Sharer? make that out.

I don't understand your City Laws, not I; but only I know it belongs all to me.

And I know it belongs as much to me.

Hold a little, I've found out a Trick to pre∣vent your being either Thief or Sharer.

What's that?

Let me go quietly one way, and go you ano∣ther; you shall say nothing, and I'll give nothing; you shall be secret, and I'll be silent. I think 'tis the best and fairest Project i'the World. Hah, Boy?

Will you make me no Proposals?

I have already: Those are,

Stay, and let me make Proposals too.

Prethee, make the best o' your Way, and be gone.

Are y'acquainted hereabouts?

Wi' my Neighbours I am.

Whereabouts live ye?

O, a vast way up into the Fields.

Will ye put the Bus'ness to the Man o' this House?

Let go the Rope a little, and I'll think and consider of't.

Well then.

Good, good! Things go rarely: This rich Prize is every bit m'own. The Fool∣ish Fellow carries me to m' own Dung-hill, and refers all to m' own Master. I'll be sworn, he'll ne'r gi' three ha'pence from his own Servant. This poor Devil sure knows n't what he's about.—

What shou'd you do else?

Tho my Conscience tells me 'tis my Right, I'd rather do so, than gi' my self the Trouble o' beat∣ing ye.

Now I like ye.

Tho you summons me before an unknown Judge, if he does Justice, he's a notable, tho' unknown Man; if not, he's a most notably unknowing Man.