And if ‘twas so, ‘twas wondrous taking. This antick humour so prevailed, Tho’ many ‘gainst it _greatly_ railed, ‘Mongst all degrees of female kind That nothing else could please their mind. Tell ‘em the following of such fashion Wou’d beggar and undo the nation And ruin all our labouring poor That must or starve, or beg at door, They’d not at all regard your story, But in their painted garments glory; And such as were not Indian proof They scorn’d, despised, as paltry stuff; And like gay peacocks proudly strut it, When in our streets along they foot it. * * * * * And happy thrice would England be, If, while they’re living, we could see Our noble ladies but beginning To wear our wool of finest spinning, Or in such silks our workmen make, For which our merchants cloth to take; Which soon would bring them in such fashion As they’d be worn throughout this nation, By all degrees, and sex, and ages, From highest peers to lowest pages; Nor would the meanest trull, or besses, Delight to wear these Indian dresses, Which certainly would profit bring To them, their tenants, and their king. To show how enormous was the trade with the East Indies at the end of the century, we need only examine the records of sales of the cargoes of three ships at the East India House in 1700. In this we omit all mention of sugar, tea, coffee, bezoar stones, ambergris, drugs of all sorts, sweetmeats, gems, musk, aloes, carpets, rugs, and all kinds of woven silk and cotton goods. The other goods, “besides great quantities unsold of toyes and small goods,” fetched over £200,000, which at the present day might represent three-quarters of a million sterling: