Ay, any Thing to get an honest Living,
Which 'faith I find it hard enough to do;
Times are so dull, and Traders are so plenty,
That Gains are small, and Profits come but slow.
M'Dole.
Are you experienc'd in this kind of Trade?
Know you the Principles by which it prospers,
And how to make it lucrative and safe?
If not, you're like a Ship without a Rudder,
That drives at random, and must surely sink.
Murphey.
I'm unacquainted with your Indian Commerce,
And gladly would I learn the Arts from you,
Who're old, and practis'd in them many Years.
M'Dole.
That is the curst Misfortune of our Traders,
A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way,
Who might as well turn Ministers of State.
But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you
Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive,
Which if all practis'd, we might all grow rich,
Nor circumvent each other in our Gains.
What have you got to part with to the Indians?
Murphey.
I've Rum and Blankets, Wampum, Powder, Bells,
And such-like Trifles as they're wont to prize.
M'Dole.