This may by some misfortune be their lot,
Although that any way I wish it not.
But farewell bottles neuer to returne,
Weepe you in Sacke, whilst I in Al•• will mourne;
Yet though you haue no reason, wit, or sence,
I'le sencelesse caide you for your vile offence,
That from your foster Father me would slide
So dwell with Ignorance, a blind sold guide.
For who in Britaine knew (but I) to vse you,
And who but I knew how for to abuse you;
My speech to you, no action sure can beare,
From Scandala magratum I am cleare.
When Vpland Tradesmen thus dares take in hand
A watry businesse, they not vnderstand:
It did presage things would turne topsie turny,
And the conclusion of it would be scuruie,
But leauing him vnto the course of Fate,
Bottles let you and I a while debate,
Call your extrauaga••t wild humours home,
And thinke but whom you are departed from;
I that for your sakes haue giuen stabs and stripes,
To glue you sucke from Hogsheads and from Pipes,
I that with p••ines and care you long haue nurst,
Oft fill'd you with the best, and left the worst.
And to maintaine you full, would often peirce,
The best of Batts, a Puncheon, or a Teirce,
Whil'st Pipes and Sack buts were the Instruments
That I playdon, to fill your full contents.
With Bastart, Sack, with Allegant, and Rhenish,
Your hungry mawes I often did replenish.
With Malmesie, Muskadell, and Corcica,
With White, Red, Claret, and Liatica,
With Hollocke, Sherant, Mallig, Canara,
I stufe your sides vp with a surserara,
That though the world was hard, my care was still,
To search and labour you might haue your fill,
That when my Master did or sup or dine,
He had his choyce of fifteene sorts of Wine.
And as good wines they were I dare be bold.
As any Seller in this Land did hold.
Thus from these Bottles I made honour spring.
Besitting for the Castle of a King.
This Royastie my labour did maintaine.
When I had meat and wages for my paine.
Ingratefull Bettles, take it not amisse
That I, of your vnkindnesse tell you this,
Sure if you could speake, you could say in briefe,
Your greatest want, was still my greatest griefe.
Did I not often in my bosome hugge you,
And in mine armes would (like a Father) hugge you,
Haue I not run through Tempests, Gusts, and Stormes.
And me with danger in strange various former,
All times and tydes, with, and against the streame.
Your welfare euer was my labours sheame.
Sleet, Raine, Haile, Winde, or Winters frosty chaps,
Ioues Lightning, or his dreadfull Thunderclaps,
When all the Elements in one consoire,
Sad earth, sharpe ayre, rough water, flashing fire.
Haue warr'd on one another, as if all
This world of nothing, would to nothing fall.
When showring Haile-shot, from the storming heau'n
Nor blustering Gusts by AEols belching driuen,
Could hold me backe, then oft I searcht and sought,
And found, and vnto you the purchase brought.
All weathers, faire, foule, Sunshine, wet and dry,
I trauail'd still, your paunches to supply.
Oft haue I fought, and swagger'd in your Right,
And fill'd you still by eyther sleigh••t or might.
And in th'Exchequer I stood for your Cause,
Else had you beene confounded by the Lawes.
I did produce such witnesses which crost
The Merchants sute, else you had quite beene lost,
And (but for me) apparantly 'tis knowne,
You had beene Kicksie winsie ouer throwne,
And for my Seruice and my much paines taken,
I am cashier'd, abandon'd, and forsaken.
I knew it well, and said, and swore it too.
That he that bought you, would himselfe vndoe,
And I was promist, that when he gaue o're,
That I should fill you, as I did before,
For which foure yeares with patience I did stay,
Expecting he would breake or run away.
Which though it be falne out as I expected,
Yet neuerthelesse my Seruice is rejected,
Let men judge if I haue not cause to write
Against my Fortune, and the worlds despight,
That in my prime of strengh, so long a space,
I toyl'd and drudg'd, in such a gainelesse place,
Whereas the best part of my life I spent,
And to my power gaue euery man content,
In all which time which I did then remaine,
I gaue no man occasion to complaine,
For vnto all that know me, I appeale,
To speake if well or ill I vs'd to deale,
Or if there be the least abuse in me,
For which I thus from you should sundred bee.
For though my profit by you was but small,
Yet sure my Gaine was Loue in generall.
And that I doe not lye nor speake amisse,
I can bring hundreds that can witnesse this,
Yet for all this, I euer am put off,
And made a scorne, a By-word and a scoffe.
It must some villaines information be,
That hath maliciously abused me,