"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, gra**-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."