TH3 VUL9AR TRAD3

"Give me the merchants of the Indian mines

That trade in metal of the purest mold

The wealthy Moor that in the eastern rocks

Without control can pick his riches up

And in his house heap pearl like pebble-stones

Receive them free and sell them by the weight

Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts

Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds

Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds

And seld-seen costly stones of so great price

As one of them, indifferently rated

And of a carat of this quantity

May serve in peril of calamity

To ransom great kings from captivity

This is the ware wherein consists my wealth

And thus methinks should men of judgment frame

Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade

And as their wealth increaseth, so enclose

Infinite riches in a little room

But now how stands the wind?

Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill?

Ha! To the east? Yes, see how stands the vanes!

East and by south; why then I hope my ships

I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles

Are gotten up by Nilus' winding banks

Mine argosy from Alexandria

Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail

Are smoothly gliding down by Candy shore

To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea."