 | More fooles yet |  |
A familiar Tobacconist.
Signior Snuffe that rare Tobacconist,Who many a whiffe hath to the ayre dismist,
Doth oft frequent Apoticaries shoppes,
To minister Tobacco to his sloppes.
And to the smoake-monger this speach he bends,
Sir giues the best, as farre as this extends.
With damme him if he paid it not to morrow.
Tush ile haue none of your lowe vallued trash,
Reserue it for your gulls, or those want cash.
Giue me of your rich leafe, or by this light
You shall expulse me and my custome quite:
So you respect me now, a pipe I pray,
Ile none of that, reach one of Snells I say.
Y'are payd, farewell. Adue penurious asse,
That doth thy substance into vapour passe:
Such is thy fate, if could thou't pawne thy cloake,
To warme thee by Tobaccoes fire and smoke.
| More fooles yet | |