Classic Poem

The commodites and nycetees of Venicyans and Florentynes, with there galees. The vij. chapitle.

The grete galees of Venees and Fflorence
Be wel ladene wyth thynges of complacence,
Alle spicerye and of grocers ware,
Wyth swete wynes, alle manere of chaffare,
Apes, and japes, and marmusettes taylede,
Nifles, trifles, that litelle have availede,
And thynges wyth whiche they fetely blere oure eye,
Wyth thynges not enduryng that we bye;
Ffor moche of thys chaffare that is wastable
Mighte be forborne for dere and dyssevable.
And that I wene, as for infirmitees,
In oure Englonde is suche comoditees,
Wythowten helpe of any othere londe,
Whych by wytte and practike bethe ifounde,
That alle humors myght be voyded sure;
Whych that we gledre wyth oure Englysh cure,
That wee shulde have no nede to skamonye,
Turbit, euforbe, correcte, diagredie,
Rubarde, sene, and yet they bene to nedefulle;
But I knowe thynges also spedefulle,
That growene here, as these thynges seyde;
Lett of this matere no mane be dysmayde,
But that a man may voyde infirmytee
Wythoute degrees fet fro beyonde the see.
And yett there shulde excepte be ony thynge,
It were but sugre, truste to my seyinge.
He that trustith not to my seyinge and sentence,
Lett hym better serche experience.
In this mater I wole not ferthere prese,
Who so not beleveth, let hym leve and sease.
Thus these galeise for this lykynge ware,
And etynge ware, bere hens oure beste chaffare,
Clothe, wolle, and tynne, whiche, as I seyde beforrie,
Oute of this londe werste myghte be forborne.
Ffor eche other londe of necessite
Have grete nede to by some of the thre;
And wee resseyve of hem into this cooste
Ware and chaffare that lyghtlye wol be loste.
And wolde Jhesu that oure lordis wolde
Considre this wel, both yonge and olde;
Namelye olde, that have experience,
That myghte the yonge exorten to prudence.
What harme, what hurt, and what hinderaunce
Is done to us unto youre grete grevaunce,
Of suche londes and of suche nacions?
As experte men knowe by probacions;
By wretynge as discured oure counsayles,
And false coloure alwey the countertayles
Of oure enmyes, that dothe us hinderinge
Unto oure goodes, oure realme, and to the kynge;
As wysse men have shewed welle at eye,
And alle this is colowred by marchaundrye.