The Downfall of Temporising Poets, unlicenst Printers, upstart Booksellers, trotting Mercuries, and bawling Hawkers.  
Being a very pleasant Dialogue between Lightfoot the Mercury, and Suck-bottle the Hawker, Red-nose the Poet being Moderator between them; the corruptions of all which by their conference is plainly described.  
Printed merrily, and may be read unhappily, betwixt Hawk and Bussard. 1641.   

The downfall of temporizing Poets, Printers, Booksellers, trotting Mercuries, and bawling Hawkers: expressed in a Dialogue, between Lightfoot the Mercury, and Suck-Bottle the Hawker: Red-nose the Poet being Moderator.  Lightfoot. 
HOw now Suck-bottle, how goes the world with you? methinks you are grown very witted of late, thy cheeks look as thin as a Shrove-tuesd pan-cake; surely thou hast  the privilege of the Ale-tap, or will mother Nip at the bunch of Grapes score no longer? Tell me the cause of thy dejected countenance.  Suck-bottle. 
A pox on you Lightfoot, if it had not been for you I might have been now merry and frolic, with my pipe and my pot; but now alas the case is altered: the Fiddlers go a begging.  Lightf. 
Sirrah Suck-bottle, do not you lay the cause of your downful upon me, for if it had not been for your tearing throat, my basket with papers would have filled my purse with crowns; whereas now I could scarce get money e●●ugh to buy sshooes to tr●t from the Exchange to Westminster, and from Westminster to the Old Bailie, from the Old Bailie to Paul's Churchyard, and from thence to Westminster again: it is well known to the whole world, that what we got we took pains for, like true Adamites we got our living by the sweat of our brows.  Suck-B. 
You were true Adamites indeed; for some of you had scarce  enough to cover your nakedness; it was better sport than to see a Bear-baiting, to hear a male and female Mercury scolding together. I oncc going in Smithfield, one called rogue, the other whore; one coming by wished the Devil to take them both: the woman with her tippet standing up, her tongue being almost weary with Billingsgate work, going out of doors, chanced to slip, and in stead of a woman's smock, shown a man's shirt on her back. And this is the gentility of your worshipful Mercuries, both male and female: and then to make up the matter, you solely endeavoured to pull down the admirable Corporation, or rather Bacchanalian Society of most reverend wand'ring Stationers.  Lightf. 
You may well call yourselves wand'ring Stationers, for there was scarce one of you that could say, at such a house I will lodge to night: one of you came out of a hedge, mother out of Newgate, a third out of the New-prison, and the fourth not being above a month out of Bedlam, roundly, profoundly, and sound cries out with a voice made of cannon proof, Come buy a new Book, a new Book, newly come forth; these are the most admirable proprieties which belong to your most admired Corporation.  Suck-b. 
Light foot, cease thy railing, Light foot look where How now Mars comes, the Regent Master of all Ballad-singers, he who thinks his Muse came from Helicon, when as it is well known the first original of it was taken out of a Tan-pit, I say, let this worthy Patron of Strangullion Poetry moderate the cause, betwixt us two, for why, we are both at variance.  Enter Poet. Poet. 
What is the matter most worthy Gentlemen? me thinks ye should rather deplore one another's late misfortunes, than to deride at each others misery, I privately heard all your discourse, which will be a laughter to the whole world.  
You Master Lightfoot call Master Suck-bottle Knave, and Master Suck bottle calls you Knave, and as for my part, I think ye are both Knaves, for why, neither of ye both deal honestly, I will show you a reason for it, as for you Mercuries, instead of binding of Bibles you have changed your Trades to bind one another to that you never had, your good behaviours I mean, moreover there are amongst you double dealers, for why? you have been mere Male and Female, one upon another, now for you Gentlemen Hawkers, or rather wandering Booksellers, whose mouths are like open sepulchers, for why? they are always gaping, as for your hands, they are open also to take money, when ye can get it, ye are beholding to traiters, for had they not been bad, you had never took so much good money. But who was the better for it? not yourselves I am sure: for why, you have spent it all at the Alehouse; and now, be it spoken to each one of your comforts, the next time you cry books about London, your reward shall be the whipping post; for why, there must be nothing sold without Licence.  Lightf. 
Master Poet, your tongue runs before your wit, you tell us of our faults, but never look upon your own. I saw the other day a Poet in print, shiting out of the Devil's breech: you are very religious men, rather than you will lose half a crown, you will write against your own Fathers. You will make men's wills before they be sick, and hang them before they are in prison, and cut off heads before you know why or wherefore. You have an indifferent strong Corporation: 23 of you sufficient writers, besides Martin Parker. This alteration notwithstanding hath made all your breeches make buttons: two or three of you if they had not trusted unto their legs, it is ten to one if they had not take acquaintance with the Gatehouse, and then have lent the Pillory an ear or two. I think Master Poet I am even with you.  Poet. 
Saucy Mercury, the arrantest knave of forty, if it had not been for us Poets, your wife's petticoats had not been so laced, nor you black cloaked: we shall have you shortly cry a pox on the Printer, and then go hang yourselves, and save young Gregory a labour. There is a zealous Brother near Warwick lane, will help you to make up the number finely.  Suck-b. 
Master Poet, let me desire you to cease, I have heard you thus long with patience, let us all three be friends, and be brothers in adversity I am the oldest Hawker amongst two hundred threescore and seventeen honest men and true, come, how say you, are we friends?  Poet. 
Well spoken Sim Suck-bottle, I were not worthy the name of a Poet if I would not condescend to be friends, so the band of amity were made in an Alehouse or a Tavern.  Light. f. 
Have you any money Poet?  Poet. 
Money? I wonder when you ever see Poets have money two days together, I sold a copy last night, and have spent the money, and now have another copy to sell, but a pox on't, no body will buy it because it is not licenceable, come, I know thou hast money Light foot.  Lightf. 
By this light not I.  Poet. 
Nor you Suck-bottle?  Suck-B. 
Why I? I was drunk last night, and never a new book being out to day, I am quite broke.  Poet. 
Why then here be three broken gentlemen of us.  Light. f. 
Thy fall O Poet, makes poor Light foot mad.  Suck-b. 
Thy fall O Poet, maketh Suck bottle sad.  Poet. 

If Mercuries be mad, and Hawkers sad,  
I'm sure no reason I have to be glad.  
Farewell kind Brothers, 'tis a cursed fate,  
One hour should make five so unfortunate,  
Poet, Bookseller, Mercury, Hawker,  
And Printer, which but lately was a talker,  
How much he got, but fortune late hath frowned,  
All five are fall'n, all five do kiss the ground.    
FINIS.