Reader, Here you'l plainly see Iudgement perverted By these three A Priest, A Judge, A Patentee. Written by Thomas Heywood |
 |
Of Monopolists.
|
 | Reader, Here you'l plainly see Iudgement perverted By these three |  |
5
Of Monopolists.
How comes this swarme of Locusts to appeare
More this, then any other Temperate yeere,
This crew of moaths and cankers that bereaves
Our flourishing Orchard both of fruit and leaves?
Who do not onely vex us here about,
But pester all the Trees the Realme throughout?
I mean those Drones, that fly about in mists,
Divelish Projectors, damn'd Monopolists,
Who now are hid in holes and keepe a loofe,
Being indeed not Parliamentall proofe.
Yet may we finde them in our bread, our meat,
In every draught or bit wee drinke or eat.
Our Bevers and the Bootes wee plucke on, whether
We have them made of Calve-skin, or Neats Leather,
Our Salt and Oatmeal, Porridge are not free,
But they from their ingredience must have fee:
Our cloath, stuffe, lace, points, tagges, even to a pinne,
Nay even the linen next unto our skinne,
And needle it is sow'd with: they make Boote,
Of everything we wear, from head to foote.
Nay I may speake it to them (with a pox)
I find them even in my Tobacco box.
More this, then any other Temperate yeere,
This crew of moaths and cankers that bereaves
Our flourishing Orchard both of fruit and leaves?
Who do not onely vex us here about,
But pester all the Trees the Realme throughout?
I mean those Drones, that fly about in mists,
Divelish Projectors, damn'd Monopolists,
Who now are hid in holes and keepe a loofe,
Being indeed not Parliamentall proofe.
Yet may we finde them in our bread, our meat,
In every draught or bit wee drinke or eat.
Our Bevers and the Bootes wee plucke on, whether
We have them made of Calve-skin, or Neats Leather,
Our Salt and Oatmeal, Porridge are not free,
But they from their ingredience must have fee:
Our cloath, stuffe, lace, points, tagges, even to a pinne,
Nay even the linen next unto our skinne,
And needle it is sow'd with: they make Boote,
Of everything we wear, from head to foote.
Nay I may speake it to them (with a pox)
I find them even in my Tobacco box.
To leave your petty feoffors and feoffees,
And come to your brave skarlet Patentees.
Who when our sope of sweetest oyle was made,
By which they drove a good and wholsom Trade.
These by an ingrost Patent coveting gaine,
Compos'd it all of stinking rape, and traine:
For what care they, so it may make them rich,
To fill our bodyes full of scabs and itch.
Which was a great cause, as some Artists guest,
To bring amongst us a contagious pest.
And then thinkes one, where sope hath fayl'd without,
Balderdash wines within, will worke no doubt.
And come to your brave skarlet Patentees.
6
By which they drove a good and wholsom Trade.
These by an ingrost Patent coveting gaine,
Compos'd it all of stinking rape, and traine:
For what care they, so it may make them rich,
To fill our bodyes full of scabs and itch.
Which was a great cause, as some Artists guest,
To bring amongst us a contagious pest.
And then thinkes one, where sope hath fayl'd without,
Balderdash wines within, will worke no doubt.
And then comes in (that project once begun)
New inposts upon every Pipe and Tun.
The price of French and Spanish winds are raisd,
How ever in their worth deboyst and craisd.
The subject suffers in each draught he swallows,
For which may they be doomb'd unto the gallows.
New inposts upon every Pipe and Tun.
The price of French and Spanish winds are raisd,
How ever in their worth deboyst and craisd.
The subject suffers in each draught he swallows,
For which may they be doomb'd unto the gallows.
Abel and Cain were shepheards (the Text saies)
But which is strange, turnd Vintners in these days.
The wicked Caine his brother Abel slew:
Which in these brother Vintners proves not true.
For unto this day, Caine keepes up his signe,
But Abel lyes drownd in his Medium wine.
Projecting Kilvert (some say) was the cause,
Who making new Lords, had devisd new lawes.
But those that would the ancient custome vary,
Shall now ('tis thought) be made exempleary.
But which is strange, turnd Vintners in these days.
The wicked Caine his brother Abel slew:
Which in these brother Vintners proves not true.
For unto this day, Caine keepes up his signe,
But Abel lyes drownd in his Medium wine.
Projecting Kilvert (some say) was the cause,
Who making new Lords, had devisd new lawes.
But those that would the ancient custome vary,
Shall now ('tis thought) be made exempleary.
| Reader, Here you'l plainly see Iudgement perverted By these three | |