The Tradesman's Lamentation: OR THE Mechanics Complaint.  

WHat Learned Doctor hath such Skill profound,  
Can raise up Trade which now lies on the ground  
Gasping for breath? Except some course be taken  
I fear, of it we shall be quite forsaken;  
Which holds not only up our City's Wall  
But Cititiz'ns too, who shortly else will fall:  
For Trading Chiefly doth uphold the Land,  
And Money gives it Legs whereon to stand;  
Both which are fled, and left's in desperation,  
Which is the Subject of this Lamentation.  
Walk any where, in Shops, i'th'Streets, or Lanes;  
Not One alone, but All in One complains,  
Money's so scarce, and Trading is so dead,  
That Tradesmen now can scarcely buy them bread,  
And to maintain them decent, and their Charge  
From beggary and want; it were a task too large  
For to recount their misery, I protest  
By this rude Pen it cannot be expressed.   

But stay; Methinks it seemeth somewhat strange,  
Though each thing's turned, that Trading too should change:  
For though Distractions we have had great store,  
Such Trade as then was, never will be more.  
We hoped those Flames had buried been in ashes,  
But they (like Lightning still break out in flashes;  
'Tis greatly feared (Trade making such a stand)  
Some greater Revolution's nigh at hand.   

Then what's the reason trading such a slave,  
Seeing we great Peace with every Nation have:  
The Spaniard sends us Gold, the Russian Silks good store,  
Methinks 'tis very strange that Trade should be so poor!  
I fear, 'tis this whereat the Tradesman frets,  
Great men are grown so high, they scorn to pay their debts:  
Then Tradesmen surely, must of force be poor,  
When as the Rich, run on the Poor-man's score.  
Nay, that's not all, for it is daily known,  
A man dares scarcely ask them for his own.  
Tradesmen must needs be poor I really think,  
When they are only paid with Dam and Sink;  
Who make a man believe they'd run him through:  
But God be thanked there's Law for such as you;  
Such Tricks as these seem very much unfit,  
T'eat Poor men's Meat, and give them ne'er a bit.  
This, this is it, that makes our Trading shake,  
And cause us poor Mechanics for to quake.  
Well, I could wish some course with't might be taken,  
T●at poor Men and Trade may not be quite forsaken.   

Another reason's here worse than the other,  
We are so hateful grown towards one another;  
Which caused is by some Fanatic brain,  
That does both Truth and Justice now disdain;  
Whether they be Trapanners, Pimping Sectists, Nippers,  
Tarpaulins, Currers, Quakers or Dippers,  
No matter what; They so much strife have made,  
They break the Peace and spoil our daily Trade.  
Well, I do hope ere long, that by degrees,  
Our Nation may be purged of such as these.   

To find a fourth, I need not long to stand,  
We have such Grand Intruders in our Land,  
Who take our Money, and our Trading too  
Out of our hands, and poor Tradesmen undo;  
Who do our daily Trading much entrench,  
Ask who they be? I answer, th' Dutch, and French:  
These take our maintenance from out our hands,  
Th' Dutch Fish our Sea, th' French fish our Trade by land  
Now Fellow-Subjects, these things are not fair,  
That nothing will go off that's English Ware:  
But if a French man puts it out to sale  
Though ne'er so bad, of is price he shall not fail;  
Our English must them give (oh 'tis a grief to tell!)  
One portion of their Wares, the other for to sell.  
Our English Subjects, by such means as these  
(Without a speedy help) their Freedom soon will lose.  
But to Conclusion I must haste a pace,  
And on this subject will no longer trace:  
But wish some remedy may soon be made  
To help the Poor, and to support our Trade:  
Then I, with Loyal hearts will ever sing  
Our Trade reflourishes;) GOD SAVE THE KING.   By J. Brokeman, formerly a rich (but now decayed) Tradesman.  

LONDON, Printed for the Author. 166●