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?